Tuesday 7 July 2009
Today is the fourth anniversary of London very briefly being under attack from Islamic terrorism for a couple of weeks. Truly with the kamikaze suicide bombings the modern third world method of terror hit our shores for the first (and thankfully) only time. Ultimately much like 9/11 it was a fluke gesture on the largest of scales, these people were chancers and forever since the reality that something such as these events could happen again has been prominent in the back of the minds of anyone running the slight risk of being directly involved (in other words people living in London). The bombers were fucking idiots, brainwashed religious lunatics/fanatics bringing the apparent new world war to our shores four years after the real event. Better late than never for some I guess.
The day is also the one year anniversary of meeting my American Friend. I guess with hindsight meeting on 7/7 was a pretty bad omen from the start. That day was a horrible rainy day so ultimately all signs point to our meeting in person being a mistake, her and her hollow fake fucking sentiments. Six months later she had dropped me like a shit making the whole experience/process a very sad and painful one as revelation kicked (me) in. Sadness accrues.
In other words today I have nothing but regret for my past and future actions.
It is supposed to rain today but the sunny morning does not suggest this in the least.
The train journey to town is relatively eventless and on cue the train beaches just outside Liverpool Street for an extended period today and when it arrives into the actual station the time is 8.03. Late.
Despite all this shit conspiring against me I am in high spirits today, it is in the writing, whenever I complete a tricky piece and/or get it online where it can be read I seem to gain more gratification from that/this act than absolutely anything else in my world/life.
I currently appear to have a thing for women with fat arses and when we stop at Kings Cross a very fat one boards and sits opposite me. I suspect this thing originates from too much listening to Spinal Tap. Back to the lady though and shame about the boat. Strangely though the arse proceeds to follow me to St Johns Wood or rather I follow it. I can’t decide.
As I walk up Loudoun Road I find myself almost being run over when I purposely step out in front of an SUV because it is not indicating. It barely slows down and I find myself attempting to bat it away with my copy of today’s The Metro. With hindsight I’m not quite sure that this method would work.
At work it is another busy day spent in our cosy cramped makeshift office. It’s a good job we get along otherwise we might get begin to get on eachother’s nerves and suffocate one another.
The Girl trots in at 9.35. With here and the train now I am bordering on obsessive clockwatching daily now.
Today I have “All Falls Down” by Kanye West playing in my head causing me to suddenly go in search of his albums online. Some days Kanye is the man!
The internet buzz today is about Vice Magazine interviewing some BNP girls. This only confirms my fear that it was the Chavs that voted for the party recently and not old school miserablists. Frighteningly there does look like there is a future is this right wing stuff. Then again I know two foreigners who should be slung out of this country now!
For lunch I hit the ribs option, a sticky tasty indulgence that leaves me messy but well fed. This was the best addition to the menu in like forever.
In the afternoon the internet changes once more as footage from the Blur Hyde Park concert of two Chavs dry humping arrives on Youtube. It really baffles the mind as to just what they are doing aiming to accomplish. Regardless of their intentions they really go at it for quite a while with tasty ferocity. As it gets juxtaposed next to the apparent artistic elegance of Blur it is really funny and something I desperately share with anyone open to my excitement.
The Girl keeps going on about quitting her job to go and study media by way of an access course. I don’t even think she really knows just what the media encompasses, she just wants to work on Channel Five documentaries covering subjects such as the Tree Man. I try to be encouraging about it but when she gets too cocky about things I take the timely opportunity to remind her that she didn’t know what Hiroshima was.
By the end of the afternoon I have redeemed the day and achieved a lot of work, getting a lot done.
Just before leaving for home the heavens open up and rain thunders down. With this the angry boss clocks that I do not have a coat with me and he hands me a huge golf umbrella to go home with. As I walk down the road I feel I could house half the fucking company under this umbrella.
After a stunted journey to Liverpool Street I arrive having missed my usual 6.20 train and I discover that the 6.30 is delay. Eventually I end up on the 6.32 to Ipswich train. God hates me.
My train ride home consists of listening to “Show” while trying to sleep but this is also coupled with sitting opposite the most amazing looking half Asian half Caucasian girl chatting to either her brother or her beau – this is not clear. She certainly laughs at him a lot in the process and reminds me of good times. Does incest begat hilarity? When the girl looks at me and I find myself unable to muster a smile it becomes quite clear/obvious to me that my ability to smile will always be my best barometer for my confidence. Evidently it is currently quite low.
As the train closes in on Colchester I get a smile from a single mum. This is not a person that I want smiling at me and I begin to panic and want off the train somewhat quicker than usual as a result.
Surprisingly now back in Colchester it turns out that there had been no rain at all. Strange.
Tonight is the Michael Jackson service held at the Staples Centre. Staples couldn’t fucking buy this amount of advertising.
As I flip on the event on BBC2 it is already well in progress. Numerous horrible R&B acts drool out songs (although I would have liked to have seen Queen Latifah) while the Jackson family sit looking in pain with the brothers wearing MJ’s trademark single/solo glove. That’s fucking deep. Surely such a silly gesture only serves to trivialise thing.
We sit watching it as a family ourselves with a distinct lack of emotion coming from our end. When Marlon breaks down during his reading dad sensitively shouts at the TV “pull yourself together you silly wog.” Nice.
With the coffin taking centre stage there is definitely a surreal air to proceedings. This is turning out to be the ultimate episode of Six Feet Under except with an inappropriate laughtrack.
As I come to conclusion that there really is no sport in making Michael Jackson jokes I decide to get with the winning team. Then however some no name kid gets to do a song. I have no idea who he is so I spread the across Twitter “is the kid MJ molested doing a song?”
From here cynicism kicks back in as I find a groove with further comments such as “this so needs Jarvis Cocker” and “where did they get the zombie from the Thriller video from?”
The event ends with genuine sadness as when his daughter Paris breaks down saying some words I have to admit to finding it emotional and sad. It cuts through all the cynicism attached to proceedings. This moment will haunt me.
With the night still young afterwards I head home in the hope of managing to do some writing.
Eventually Big Brother comes on and Nina begins texting me with her views and comments on events.
Tonight I make the schoolboy error of drinking a can of Emerge at a time that should really be just before bedtime. This is kamikaze.
Fortunately as I get Jimmy Leg and remain awake the new Charlie Brooker thing You Have Been Watching is on TV and tonight it features the astounding Deadliest Warrior TV show and the episode that pits the IRA against the Taliban. Ultimately the IRA victors. Yes!
During the adverts I am not sure what I make of the song from In The Mood For Love being in the Mercedes Benz advert. Is nothing sacred anyway?
Just before I go to bed I discover that In The Loop has been leaked as a torrent. I can’t wait to watch that movie again.