One hundred days of solitude

A new year, a new decade, a new start. I've decided that 2010 will be my year readers. It will be the year that I make a difference. Strike out and put my marker on the world.

It's nearly one year since I started out on my quest to become a Citizen Journalist. I have decided to avoid the easy post of doing a 'Best of', so popular with a number of my peers. I'm not going to go over the same ground. I'm going to forge new territories and push back the boundaries. There are leaders and followers, but I am a lone wolf. Albeit a lone wolf who currently has 44 great followers - each of whom I adore more than I can possibly describe.

I was thinking about what project I could next sink my teeth into. It needed to be something that didn't totally consume all of my time and money. I'm back at work now, which is bad enough in itself, but it also sucks up a lot of my creativity.

Unfortunately, my muse Dippy is still out of the country, saving Platypusses. In fact, she won't be back in blighty until mid-February at the earliest. I suppose it's for the best, I found the 12 Drugs of Christmas project quite challenging. It's not that I didn't enjoy taking drugs and being part of something positive like climate change, but it wasn't mine. I didn't have ownership of the art and art is a very personal persuit.

My new campaign is an extremely personal persuit. I have decided to take it upon myself to make sure I do one thing in particular just once per day, for the first 100 days of the year, then not make a particular point of NOT doing it for the next hundred.

For the first 100 days of 2010 I will be worshipping at the alter of the Nordic God Onan.

Just once per day, I will see to it that I carry out the self-sacrifice of self pleasure. Having a wank is something we all take for granted, although not Cliff Richard, if you believe the PR. I reckon he does though, probably while thinking about Tim Henman. I personally doubt that I'd be able to raise things with the image of Tim pumping his fist in celebration. But it takes all sorts, I suppose that's the great thing about being a human being. That and opposable thumbs. Which come in very handy whilst wanking.

Anyway, I've got to say the first five days of the year have been a walk in the park, what with coming off the drugs and Dippy being out of the country, I've barely had to even bother with porn. I did seek inspiration from my excellent follower Ellie's blog and yesterday I had a look at some fake topless shots of Kelly Brook on the internet, but nothing too anotomically revealing.

Apparently men find boobs attractive because it reminds us, on an animalistic level, of an arse. Bear with me readers, I'm not making this up! When our forebears started to walk around on two feet, mankind's take on rumpypumping changed, we started facing our mates, but the females with the bigger chests got more mates because our cavemen ancestors were still drawn to the cleavage. Which begs the question, why aren't there more homosexuals? In fact, if we likes arses so much, wouldn't that be counterintuitive in terms of breeding and hence evolution?

I dunno, but all this talk of boobs and bums has started the fires burning!

I'm off for a quick one off the wrist readers.

Happy New Year!

Baz
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