Saturday 20 March 2010
Dream: I am heading to another writer talk, this time someone that used to correspond with Charles Bukowski. Initially a few people exhibit/display interest but as ever I wind up going to the event on my own. The following day when I speak to dad about it he expresses sadness/sorrow that yet again I am going to these things on my own and that people have just let me down once again. He begins bemoaning Matt for some reason and blaming him as apparently he was one of the people that was heading along to the event with me (although in the real world this is very unlikely). Suddenly it turns out that I am late work and still wearing the same clothes that I had on the day before. For some reason mum is now working in Chernobyl on Butt Road (no longer inhabited by Butt Road) and there she has a change of clothes for me. I step into the office and grab my fresh clothes while her work colleagues comment and banter in a friendly manner. The office is much brighter and cleaner than I remember it. I head to the toilet to change into the more private/personal of items and the room is much more smaller and narrow than I remember. Is this due to me now being larger/bigger? Eventually I head off to work, boarding a train for London. I don’t worry too much about being late, I have earned the benefit of the doubt and I am able to disguise not getting up on time to leave with an excuse of the trains being delayed.
I awaken just after 7AM this morning. I think I need more sleep than this, more rest. I am tired but also I feel lazy and very disturbed with it. In a brief moment of clarity I am taking stock of my existence at this time and for a 33 year old this truly feels dysfunctional. Surely this is not what life was supposed to hold for me.
After taking in the BBC news (there is no news) for an hour and repairing my broadband (only to realise there are no websites) I begin murmuring around 8.20AM, getting out of bed and noticing/realising just what a mess/state my flat is in. There is nothing new to this but it does appear to me more vividly this morning.
Stepping into my kitchen I notice that I left the sunflower spread (should be butter) out overnight. Yeah, that’ll really taste nice now.
I need some urgency to my life. The Tuesday Thursday Blur now appears to have expanded to the whole week and now all seven days are beginning to resemble one long blur of routine and dull familiarity. I think of escape today but looking outside with the weather being so grey there really doesn’t feel like there is anywhere to go. I’m on a mental mope.
Soon I find myself stepping out towards Asda as per routine in order to get the Saturday newspapers. I can’t but feel this week that this trip is unnecessary, I have a whole bottle of milk unopened from last week still and three boxes of cereal on the go, quite frankly I could/would survive another week on this alone.
Today Asda feels like a scene from Dawn Of The Dead. I fit right in. After weighing up the worth of buying The Money Pit on DVD for £2 I find myself repeatedly crossing/passing a yummy mummy as take aisles from a different direction. I’m generally rubbish at disguising my attraction to such things.
I think it is a pretty sure-fire sign that I am not feeling on top form today as I actually find myself buying apples and bananas (Fairtrade ones at that). In the light of last night I think I am now feeling exceptionally self conscious in a bad and destructive way. Are these food stuffs the answer? Nope.
That thing happens of recognising somebody from somewhere but not having any idea of the instances. Was she an ex-girlfriend of a friend? Was she an accounts client? For the rest of the day now I will struggling to remember who she is/was.
Against my better judgement I buy more fizzy caffeine drinks (Rockstar Cola). I still maintain/swear that it was overdoing it on these that made me ill last week but in desperate times and needing some zip/pep these feel like a legitimate shortcut. I even find myself in the booze aisle checking out Jagermeister with view to concocting DIY Jagerbombs. Booze is not the answer at this time.
Despite my best intentions to at least pretend to be healthy I still find myself buying the Wasabi snacks. To those I am just addicted now.
Eventually I reach the checkouts and the weekly ritual of hiding my embarrassing shopping away from my fellow customers and Asda employees. Invariably the machine accuses me of not putting my goods in the bag a couple of times meaning I have to get a bag lady to authorise my scan. Always demeaning, never empowering.
Swiftly I exit the store; I don’t want to be around people today.
When I drive back and near home a car flashes me profusely to indicate that a speed camera van is out. To some degree it restores my faith in the essential decency of the human race. Strangely though today I don’t really feel up to speeding anyway.
I return to my flat at around 10AM which feels more sensible than my usual crack of dawn starts that usually come with my Saturdays. Today is a beautiful day that sees me opening my windows for the first time this year. As a gentle breeze slips through the window it is genuinely exhilarating, reminding me of being at the beach during my youth. The air feels fresh from this world and I suck it in like energising fuel.
With no Danny Baker on Radio Five instead I listen to Jonathan Ross on Radio Two as I assume writing. His first guest is Jim Broadbent who is as fascinating as ever. Unfortunately later Cerys Matthews pops up on the show which truly makes my skin crawl and serves up some uncomfortable and pained memories for me. How on earth is she still milking her hack career?
I write a lot today having my most productive session since that strange alcoholic burst I experienced at Christmas. Today however is purer and more focused, all the more fruitful.
In the afternoon sadly I peter out and find myself heading to bed where I resume watching the Zach Galifianakis episode of Saturday Night Live.
When I eventually re-emerge the time is past 5PM – how on earth did that happen? Where did the day go? Did I waste it?
With focus I tear back into writing well into the evening where once more the Comedy Exchange with Phill Jupitus and Eugene Mirman plays out in the background followed by numerous old episodes of Have I Got News For You. When did Dave become my favourite TV channel?
With the night now getting very late (11PM) and my eyes ceasing to work in the process I resort to bed with satisfaction.
Another crazy Saturday night in the story of my life.