Wednesday 4 March 2009
This morning I experienced more lucid dreams this time including hanging out in a female friend’s bedroom while she gets ready to go out. The going out then apparently involves watching baseball in some kind of enlarged front room on a huge plasma TV screen with Americans I recognise (departed friends) present. This causes me to act mouthy and obnoxious, ripping the piss out of the sport much to their relaxed and restrained but vocal chagrin.
The walk from my car to the station is a real struggle this morning, I feel very out of shape at the moment. By the time I reach North Station the trains are screwed up again this morning, which in a way benefits me as I hobble into the station late but still it is only a sign of bad things and an imbalance in the cost vs delivery equation.
On the train I sit opposite a wino David Blaine lookalike who I have seen before a few times but still I am afraid to exchange eye contact with him. When on two occasions we accidentally do my day almost falls apart before it has really started.
Following this things only sink when I find myself being stared at by a Chinese guy in a baseball cap on the tube. Upon closer inspection I notice that his face has been all bashed in and he is sporting bruises and a purple/black eye. I probably got this from staring at a commuter for too long.
Despite the dry beginnings today turns into seemingly one of the best days I have had in weeks. Work is productive and conversation is fun.
In the afternoon when I check on my friend from Holland Park it would appear that she has taken her website down so I email her to check that everything is all right.
By the time home time arrives though enthusiasm for kickboxing is minimal but despite my reservations I head towards it despite hanging around work for an additional half hour afterwards in an act of procrastination.
After hopping aboard the Jubilee Line I hit Oxford Street with very little retail gusto purchasing very little – no vinyl, no books this week.
When I invariably end up in Fopp again my retail might is weak and I end up purchasing only:
Fellini’s 8 ½ DVD
The Secret Lives Of Dentists DVD
Nick Cave – The Ass And The Angel CD
Spending only £14 would suggest some kind of subconscious morale surge and the lack of requirement for retail therapy this week. It probably also comes with a nod of acknowledge to just how drowning in such things I feel I am at home right now.
From there I head to Euston early. I arrive feeling rough and when I change I experience some kind of minor prolapse.
This week’s lesson is hard again, are my fitness levels really dropping so low? Mr Ponytail is attendance yet again this week and with it his friend has returned. The pair of them, Mr Ponytail particularly, are eager beavers and chomping at the bit to start swinging at each other. After sparring with the guy last week I felt his enthusiasm and weird ego and just watching the way he carries himself is geek deluded. Even though they don’t have sparring kit they begin shadow boxing close to each other in a homoerotic (for them) way. Thankfully the teacher tells them they cannot do this without full sparring kit, she spots that there is money to be made in these there yokels.
It is a real relief and victory when the lesson is over and I head back to Liverpool Street flying arriving there in record time for 9.20 (Euston to Liverpool Street in 20, that’s good right?).
On the train home I do the double of watching In Treatment and Adam And Joe Go Tokyo on my iPhone before reaching Colchester just before 10.30. Miraculously the walk from the station back to my car is a breeze this evening, I begin to feel fighting fit as I guess the endorphins kick in.
When I eventually get home I head straight to bed going to sleep comfortably.