Wednesday, yes, it's Wednesday already.

Last post was Sunday, wasn't it? Forgive me, the old memory's been a bit fuzzy of late. Anyway, no big developments recently, the life of Barnes continues. I saw my friend Chuck the other day - we met for lunch (which he paid for, phew!) and of course he gave me the "Everett, you've got to get a job speech" (easy for Mister steady accountant to say).
Though a job would be beneficial, especially if I want to carry on this blog.
*Heavy sigh.*
Chuck is one of my only friends - yes, I know that sounds pitiful and dramatic, but it's true. Ever since I upped sticks, left my home and flock and moved to the city, I've been bit of a recluse.
Left my flock. There, I've said it. I knew it would come out sooner or later. (Charlie is shaking his head at me right now - "Attention seeker," he's saying. Internet, meet Charlie. Charlie says hi.)
Tell it to me straight, do I look mad now?
Ok, to clear something up - until four years ago, I was a priest. Following in my evangelistic father's footsteps,  preaching at our local church and generally doing my best to spread the good word in as affable a manner as possible.
I was really very happy with my life, despite my father's frankly frightening fervour (oh my, look at that alliteration!)
And then one day, "I lost my way" as my dad later described it. Not without reason, mind. We were both to blame, but that doesn't stop me hating him, and hating myself, and hating the whole of Paverstown.

Oh look, I've gone and made myself miserable now. Even Charlie has pissed off.
Sorry guys.
- Everett.

Well would you look at that - two posts in as many days. To be honest, last night, I thought I'd have forgotten all about this the next day.
Apparently not.
Nothing much happened to today, I woke up late, ate, drank, watched a very bad movie on the box.
Chatted with Charlie. I'll try and get a transcript of one of those up sometime.
And that's about it. Another very boring day in the very boring life of Everett Barnes.
I'll attempt to do something more interesting in the coming days, for now...
See you around kids, "Millais".

Trust me, neither of us is going to enjoy this.

Hello there.
As you may have gathered, if you happen to be looking at this blog, my name is Everett Barnes. Hey, isn't that funny - the word "blog" gets flagged as a miss-spelled word, on a blog. Never mind. I do this sometimes - get sidetracked I mean - usually by choice.
The Everett comes from the painter: John Everett Millais. My father was a great fan, so he honoured the great man by naming his oldest son after him. His twin passions for art and literacy are the only two that I've fully embraced, and still have an interest in. He had a third great love, and that was God. More on that later, I think. I suppose I talk about myself, and what possessed me to overcome my Luddite leanings and enter the world of blogging. That second topic is easily answered - I'm bored, I'm lonely, and I'm borderline suicidal. Okay, was that dramatic enough for you? I'm also quite poor - well, not living on the street poor, but constant fights with my landlord poor. Jobless, unemployable poor. That means I can't afford a psychiatrist. (Then again, I'm not sure if I can afford my internet connection for much longer!) If I could afford a shrink - I doubt I'd visit one. Keeping  my emotions bottled up is something I'm good at - venting over the internet makes it easier. I suppose it's because it's rather impersonal.
So, anyway, I guess I need some kind of outlet - somewhere I can vent and whine.

But that's not all. I'd like to be able to talk about the things I love. Art, books, music Perhaps the occasional amusing anecdote. Right.
I was going to talk about me - wasn't I? Well - basics: I'm twenty-eight, a healthy five foot seven - with my Grand-father's grey eyes, and brown hair that's stayed short ever since my brief ponytail phase (I thought it made me look like Jeff Bridges at the time). I've an undying love for the music of Paul Simon (hence the title of this blog) and Chris Issak. We'll add films with Johns' Wayne and Cusack, books that make me think, and T.V shows that don't.
I'm running out of things to say here (no doubt in an hour I'll come up with a dozen new topics)- so I might as well whip out the shocker.
I'm haunted. An angel called "Charlie" spends his days by my side.
Alright, that's not strictly true - he's a figment of my imagination - which has been producing apparitions since I was seven - apparitions that are as real to me as the brick walls of my apartment building. The most enduring and endearing of these is "Fat Charlie the Archangel" (prizes if you know the reference).
I've never known - and have no wish to know - exactly what's scientifically wrong with me - I've always called it "natural hallucination". (For any medics out there, don't worry - I've been checked for tumours and other serious illnesses.)
They can be frankly terrifying and very inconvenient sometimes - but I wouldn't ever be rid of them. I don't want them gone.
So there's the outline. You may not be interested, you may not believe me. I don't really care much - at least, not right now.
I'll try and update - but don't expect any kind of frequency. I have to admit, though, I did kinda enjoy this.
See you around,
                         "Millais."