Saturday 27 June 2009

At the risk of sounding dramatic I feel as if I am checking into rehab today. So on that note it doesn’t necessarily feel healthy to begin watching Last Days at this time.

Today is another subtly warm one, very muggy, perhaps too muggy for comfortable. With the warmth/heat comes the sensation of my clothes feel sticky and clinging to me. Part of this is due to the climate but also a lot is probably to do with my increase in size. The quick glimpse of myself that I capturing in the reflection of the tube carriage window last night was not good for the self esteem; and neither was seeing old ghosts avoiding eye contact with me.

This week’s trip to Asda was not an overly fruitful one. If I am really to detox next week I have to keep things minimal but when the few items to have marked as essential are either not on promotion or even in existence at the store this scuppers plans somewhat. The key to the week is liquids and fluids and cynically none of the healthy stuff is on promotion anymore. Likewise with the change of bedding I only wanted new pillowcases and a new duvet cover but it would appear these are not sold separately. Fuck knows when I will actually find myself bothering to change these.

As the bill passes £30 I notice I haven’t actually bought any food this week. There is some Berocca (on Nikki’s recommendation a couple of months ago) but no food. I really hope this plan works but at this time I can’t see it doing so.

After doing a little writing and then being disrupted/distracted by Last Days upon scanning through the Freeview channels I see that the Alternative Rock episode of Seven Ages Of Rock is on TV at 11AM. It is weird; in the light of Michael Jackson’s passing suddenly Kurt Cobain is everywhere again.

A truly terrifying moment occurs as I walk past my front door and point at the letter box and say “that guy (the postman) should have been along by now” just as two parcels come shooting through the slot. With all the rubbish that buy online with cyber retail therapy that guy must fucking hate me with a pure resentment as he has to lug all my shit around with him every morning. It almost makes me afraid to open the packages. Ordering so much out of boredom while at work I honestly couldn’t tell you what will be in these packages today (although they are DVD shaped).

As I stumble through Freeview and come across a channel called Yesterday it plays an advert from a company called eHarmony. They are not a dating site apparently and instead choose matches through a much more sophisticated criteria. It sounds like Gattaca to me.

The Left Of The Dial episode of the Seven Ages Of Rock comes on and it is as fun as I remember, albeit somewhat factually inaccurate to say the least. Still any TV programme that features Black Flag, Mudhoney, Sonic Youth and Nirvana is always going to be the best thing on TV.

A couple of years ago Racton gave me a screener DVD of this show for my birthday and it was a really great, touching gift from him.

The remainder of the day is about pottering around the flat, making tokenistic efforts to write that get interrupted by watching videos I have downloaded.

This is Glastonbury weekend, which now always reminds me of dog sitting in Harlesden for Nichola. Today it is four years ago since I saw James Brown, got drunk and dropped my new Nokia phone down the Kentish Town Forum toilet with her. As I head over to the olds for the afternoon I flip the BBC coverage on and come across Spinal Tap looking bloated and disappointing. Despite being legendary the BBC presenters act as if they have no idea who they are dealing with (especially Jo Whiley unsurprisingly). Rubbish. I look online to see if there is some coverage of Neil Young’s set because the whole world appears to be raving about him at the moment but there is nothing online and when BBC show him doing one song there is no spark just an abundance of cheese. What on earth are my friends hearing in him?

In the evening, after getting dinner, I head home and do some writing while endeavouring to catch the Glastonbury footage on BBC2/BBC3. Unfortunately little of it thrills and soon it becomes an early night in the face of such limited entertainment.