Sunday, 18 October 2009

Sunday 18 October 2009

With the backfire of downing three cans of Tesco’s diet caffeine drink Kick last night this morning I find myself awake at 5.30AM. This is going to hurt later on.

After a few failed attempts to resume sleep I abort that plan and look into my early morning options. Outside the skies are still black and the day hasn’t really started in earnest. This is a mess of a situation to be in.

Scanning the files on my computer I quickly watch the first Saturday Night Live Weekend Update Thursday episode of this season. It’s obviously great. Now with the time barely reaching 6AM I reach out for my Fishing With John in the hope that the soothing tones of a person fishing will send/coast me back to sleep in a hurry. I remember when I was young I would watch Come Fishing on Channel Four as I found the show both fascinating and thoroughly relaxing. Perhaps I should have actually given fishing a go at some point. I used to work with somebody at Baker Street (a manager) that would often spend his weekends fishing and smoking a joint. The guy had real Zen.

After four episodes of the show I feel enlightened but I have not resumed rest. Watching Jarmusch bellyache about fishing for shark, Tom Waits get seasick and then John Lurie and Willem Dafoe utterly fail in ice fishing before apparently dying of starvation is compulsive viewing.

As I emerge into the day the sun is now up and the skies are clear. The sun shoots through the window and dimly lightens my room as the trees prevent it from fully basking in glory. This dulled setting feels like the perfect Sunday morning. There is a crisp edge to air and it all feels fresh. My window still remains slightly open and occasionally leaves will find their way through and onto my writing next invading my computer. These are the great moments of existence. The chilled air is exhilarating and perfect, it summons up an energy in me than few things are able to accomplish. Today Bohemian Grove truly glows.

Seasick Steve is a guest on Something For The Weekend this morning. Oh yeah, that show is EXACTLY what he is about.

Soon I find myself heading to Sainsburys in Stanway with view to getting The Sunday Mail which today comes with a free Austin Powers DVD amongst all the wacky stories held inside its pages. This truly is a golden age. I also snap up The Sunday Times, which comes with a free Motorcyle Diaries DVD. Now if only I actually read these newspapers I could appear informed. I also buy a few goodies during the trip including sweet sweet Bolt energy drink and the sweetest, most chocolately cereal known to the UK (Sainsburys Triple Chocolate Crisp Cereal).

Once home I plunder through some writing, as ever to varying degrees of success before making arrangements to head over to the olds for 3PM but unfortunately around 2.45PM I nod off only to reawaken at 3.15PM which Sunday lunch at my parents’ having been served up. As I attempt to compose myself after my disco nap it is a really scary feeling to be getting behind the wheel of my car with my head still feeling as if it is spinning.

When I arrive at their place they know me too well and have suspected that I have fallen asleep. As the dog greets me when I step through the door his energy and enthusiasm almost bowls me over. He doesn’t understand.

From here I proceed to do the Sunday good son thing while indulging in my parents’ hospitality. As ever lunch is great while on Sky Wigan are playing Manchester City in a game that really holds next to no interest for me. What are these teams doing in the top flight? I grew up with them bouncing around the lower leagues.

This evening I wind up going to the pub quiz with Nina, Sandy and the guy that runs the bookshop. To be honest I am feeling a bit too tired for another night out but it feels like a rare treat and opportunity. Also I hardly feel naming our team “The Damp Squids” is really conducive to success.

In the end we crap out, hardly get any questions with at one point the table facing us screaming the answer to one from across the room. I would like to think our progress is hindered by the other two knocking back a couple of bottles of wine at rapid pace but I can’t deny the fact that collectively we are just not that learned. As talk descends into discussing people from the local scene with names I do not recognise I begin to glaze over.

Eventually we knock the night on its head where I return home to the arse end of Good Will Hunting on TV. It’s a good film.

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