The people I warned about are now putting porn spam links in tiny print at the bottom of the stuff they copy from cnet. Contact The_Walrus for more details if you need them.

Why are people posting stuff here that they should maybe be posting in their own blog. Is BCUK really for Aliaster and his addiction problems I think not. These posts would be better in his blog and not here. If he did this he would probably get comments and readers. Doing this will make people wary that he is a possible spammer or an attention seeker. Think about it a bit Aliaster..

I feel lost and confused. I am trying so hard to cut back on the time I spend on Facebook. It was not healthy for me to be on there so much and although I have been on there quite a bit I have managed to spend most of my days avoiding it to a large extent. The problem, however is that the productivity which I assumed would take it's place has not been forthcoming. Spending 30 hours or more a week on Facebook led me to assume that simply cutting down on that would allow me to achieve far more productive goals. Unfortunately my concentration has not been as focussed as I hoped. Two nights ago I got so drunk that I spent all of yesterday feeling ill and being sick in a bin as I lay in bed. As I said in a previous blog, getting drunk doesn't make you alcoholic but am I in danger of substituting one excess for another? I know I can be successful all I need is focus but that is probably true of most people.

Have you noticed the real people on here are currently outnumbered by a load of people whose names don't match their gender, who have no friends, and whose postings consist only of news stories cut from cnet?

What are they up to?

I'm feeling hugely disappointed with myself today. For months I have been spending far too much time flirting and looking for casual cyber sex on Facebook. I fell into it and it griped me. At times I have managed to resolutely promise myself that I would last a fortnight or a few days without visiting my Facebook page but even when I succeeded it proved to be a delay rather than a cure. I don't always miss Facebook when I use don't it, this can often be the downfall. I assume that I'm no longer addicted, I think that I'm safe to browse my page again and without warning I find myself at the mercy of my screen, unable to leave my computer for even a moment. I feel disgusted at how I act, so shamed, cheating on my girlfriend sickens me, harassing innocent women makes my heart sink, leading girls along as they assume I'm single makes me despise myself and flirting with old obese women because I can't find anyone else makes me pity what I have become. I started to write this blog as a form of therapy. I hoped that writing down my thoughts from day to day would allow me to untangle the complex knot of emotions and desires that make up my addiction and it seamed to work. For the first time in as long as i can remember I have spent several days at my computer, concentrating on my work and not being sucked into Facebook. I have allowed myself to view and respond to messages but have not felt compelled to enter long or overtly sexual conversations. I felt cured and it was liberating. I'm no expert but have seen enough TV programs on the subject to know this is a common and dangerous stage for an addict. I also recognize that on some level I am an addict. Yesterday I felt as though writing my blog was an unnecessary waste of my time as I had much to do and felt so completely cured. I spent yesterday morning productively getting on with my work, then at around 2pm, bored with my tasks allowed myself a few minutes on Facebook. I soon became involved with highly flirtatious conversations, I find it a thrill to tell women stories. I find it empowering to find a woman who gives short coy answers and as I write they give in. Their responses becoming longer and more graphic, Women sitting at a desk unable to move because i have made them so horny, I find it hugely arousing, it's amazing fun but I cannot control it. Women log off and on through their day, then after apparently having a very enjoyable time wish me goodbye. I, however, find myself unable to log-off, going from one conversation to the next, then another. Yesterday, after allowing myself a few minutes to look at my Facebook account at about 2pm I ended up sat flirting and writing to women until 3.30 am the following day. I almost couldn't comprehend how I had sat for so long almost unaware of the passing of time, surely another sign of my addiction. I barely left the screen, I had a slice of toast at 10pm as my evening meal and logged-off only when I was almost asleep, long after I had any real desire to chat. Where in my brain did this come from? Why did I have so little control over my actions? I'm not a weak person. I have courage and know right from wrong. I'm the sort of person that if i make a mistake, I hold my hands up and say sorry but I don't know why I don't have the courage or desire to fight this curse. All battles that are won and lost are done so in this way, it is only when you overcome your enemies desire to fight that you can claim victory and at times I feel as though I have a need to have sex that has almost totally overcome my desire to resist

I feel kind of better already, I don't know if anyone read my last post and to some extent it doesn't really matter. Just writing down how I feel about my addiction to sex has really helped. Ok I know there are worse things to be addicted to and I'm not suggesting that my life has bean ripped apart as happens with some addictions but my time and thoughts have been controlled in a way that I don't like. Jobs that I've promised my girlfriend I would do have gone undone as I browse scantily clad women on facebook tagging hundreds in the hope that a few would reply. Surely spending day after day from early morning to late at night is not a healthy existence. Which is why I'm on here to blog, to work through my thoughts and the tangled knot of emotions that keep me wasting my time and although in a non-tactile way cheating on my girlfriend.

I think I'm addicted to sex. Well I know I am but I'm not like a real addict and I'm not even 100% sure that it's sex that I'm addicted to. I don't go round bars looking for vulnerable females hoping they're too drunk to say no and I don't make slutty remarks about every woman I see. I respect women and really love my girlfriend which in a way seams to prove that I must be addicted. I know sex is natural and so much fun but I want a choice, I don't think that's unreasonable. At the moment my problem is with facebook and an application called social me, though my desire goes back further and has followed a number of different forms. When I was a teen I would sit in bed hoping that something semi pornographic would be shown on TV, probably like many teens, but I seamed unable to give up. I'd watch TV until the morning longing for a Spanish film or Cultural review with just a hint of sex. I was always shy and never forwards with girls, I was 15 before I had a girlfriend and 19 before I lost my virginity. I never bought porn or even saw it when I was younger. When I was about 17 I walked my dog past a group of younger teens who had a porn mag, they were ripping pages out and discarding them on the street. That night I waited in my bedroom until my mother was asleep then crept out of the house and collected the discarded pages. It felt thrilling but low, it felt very very low. The thoughts I had surprised me a little. Firstly I felt turned on at the graphic images of sex, so unashamed and seemingly on offer to me, but I also felt ashamed that I was using dirty used porn from off the street. However, possibly the most surprising feeling was one of jealousy. I was 17 and the lads who had had the magazine can't have been older than 14. Had they bought it? How had they had the confidence to buy a magazine that I would be too ashamed to buy and how did they have the confidence to share it jokingly or otherwise with their friends. Possibly the strongest feeling I had at using dirty discarded porn was the feeling of shame that I wasn't enough of a man to buy my own.

hope i don't make anybody miserable, but i wanted to ask whether anybody has had experience of alcoholism in their family, particularly their parents. i ask this because both my parents were alcoholics, and on wednesday it will be the first anniversary of my father's death. i am also starting to chronicle my experiences, though i haven't put it in my blog yet.

thanks, mazzy

'Until one is committed there is always hesitency,
the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative, and creation,
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans:-
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in ones favour all manner of unforseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no one could have dreampt would come their way.

Whatever you can do
or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.'
_____________________________

Attributed to Goethe, I first became familiar with this piece in 1987.

As soon as I made the committment to live and work in my studio without heat and running water, all sorts of things did occur to help me. A whole stream of events did ensue because of my decision. Unforseen incidents, meetings and material assistance came to me in the most amazing ways. Remember 'none of us are creative enough to know how things will actually turn out.

Jean Frohling came into my life. Twenty years older than me, she was an interior designer - an amazing woman. She taught me about prioritising and taking the little steps which ultimately lead to big results.

An artist in Philadelphia who I hardly knew told Bonnie Paul, an art agent, about my work. Through her I received commissions for large corporate murals. We are still close friends.

On one occasion during the renovation process when I was very cold and very low...not knowing where my next dollar would come from. Someone rang the bells to the studio. When I opened the upstairs window - a man yelled up to me. I am .....the Taxman!!!!!! and then he said, and I have some money you are owed. What a moment.

On another occasion, and at an all time low, I found a letter in my box from the artist Howard Thorne. Howard was someone I had admired from afar. He exemplified to me what it was to be a real artist. We had never spoken. In the letter he said 'I have just seen some of your portraits - and I would say to you, never stop painting......' More about Howard later.

My dear friend Carol Peterson, who I met on the Staten Island Ferry all those years before, turned up one day with two thousand dollars in cash.

There are so many more stories.

Tomorrow I will begin to describe how I actually raised the money to renovate the studio.
-------------------------

With the care team in place, I go to London today - I will stay with my good friend Jane Carter, and then give a workshop tomorrow for the Richmond Group.

Status Quo re my Mother.

A Bientot

I have somehow forgotten what bcuk blog is for. Can some in the group write the aims and purpose of this group. It would be nice to refresh your memory once in a while so that all posts keep to the aims and purpose of starting this group. There is nothing written on the 'About this blog page'. Thanks.