DAY ONE (part two)

Hi all,

Just a quickie to finish off Day One of 2012: A Fictional Diary.

At the moment, I've written off 189 A4 pages now. So it's good so far. Hopefully soon, I can translate my scribble to a netbook and printer and get some of my trusted group to read what I've written.

Anyway, here is:

TWENTY TWELVE: A FICTIONAL DIARY
CHAPTER ONE
DAY ONE
PART TWO

I'm worth at the moment 644 worths.

Worths are the beall and endall in this place. I'm for the moment worth something. But once I put things together, I will know my real worth.

I live alone, I have no friends, just enemies. I keep myself to myself. I have no contact, well, not electronically or mechanically. It's a reason why Rev. Timothy and the congregation at church, they're all cool. I have acquaintences anyhow, not forgetting CFBS, she's cool too. But I have more enemies than acquaintences.

I sleep for most of the rest of the day. The only disturbances being my neighbours goading me for not seeing in the New Year and the fireworks live. It's not my problem. Beings should allowed to be themselves. First day gone.

Why I do get the feeling that is going to happen which will change everything. But I don't do future, just the here and now.

MORE NEXT TIME.
See you then.
Chris

A QUICK UPDATE

Hi all,

Just a quick update, my writing challenge is really taking off. As I write I've written nearly 158 A4 pages since January 1st 2012.

I'm going to write the first part of the first page of the first chapter. See if you like it.

TWENTY TWELVE (a fictional diary)
CHAPTER ONE: ONE to THIRTY-ONE

DAY ONE
WEIGHT: 16 stone 1 pound
WORTH: 644

6.30am: Alarm goes off and I'm up. Not quite awake yet. Hit the shower and sploo off the old year.

After breakfast, I make my way out, the balcony walkway is littered with the discarded remenancies of the night and early before.

I head for the J.Line to go to my first port of call. People call out 'Happy New Year' to me. 'HNY' I reply back. Jamaica Road to Blackfriars Union Cut Cross. Buy a paper. Pilgrims off bottom.

Church. The Reverand Scott Timothy welcomes me. Get down to business. Hymn numbers up, Hymn books, service books and reading sheets out and collated. 23 in today. Good congregation. Cleared up afterwards, before a well earned coffee.

To CFBS's for lunch. She makes the kind of things I like, she has food for me, it's good to see her.

Back home at three. I have done good. Oh let me introduce myself.

The name's Ramsworth, Nigel Tobias Ramsworth. I'm a Aspergic Syndromic, in my mid-forties, living in London South East Quadrant Sixteen.

MORE NEXT TIME

Bye for now.

Chris.

NEW YEAR, NEW DIRECTION

Hi and Happy New Year, folks, sorry, I've been away, but I've doing some thinking. I want to try this out on you. This year, I'm going try and be positive. One of my true passions is writing. But I've set myself a challenge, to write a fictional diary.

Well, here goes. I'm going to show you the opening to the diary.

TWENTY TWELVE (a fictional diary)

INTRODUCTION: TEN MINUTES TO TWENTY TWELVE

There's a hammering on my flat door. I'm half-asleep, trying to get to sleep. There's voices outside.

"Wake up in there, come and see in the New Year".

I sit up in bed and in the dark I wait. The hammering continues.

"Come on out and see in the New Year".

I stay put. The hammering's getting heavier and the voices louder.

"What's the matter with you?".

I'm not giving in to these over-optomistic thugs. I stagger to the radio in the front room, just in time to hear Big Ben start the cycle.

"Come out and see in the New Year". THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

As the first bong sounds and the people cheer "Happy New Year", the voices shout, "Come out and see the fireworks", THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!, I've dropped off on the sofa. They keep shouting and hammering, but all this is to no avail. I am asleep at last.

What do you think? Let me know if you want more.

Until the next time

Big love

Chris