Friday, 28 November 2008

i guess i'll die another day

In an attempt to drag myself down/to try and feel even a little bit like I used to before Friday, I play some love songs.

In the shower I try and feel remotely apathetic/depressed/lost, as the water cascades over my naked body; the warmth reminding me old of good love (not strangling unreciprocated love). Of course there is no reason for actually wanting to feel like this, other than knowing that I can feel like this if I want to.

I soon realise I feel nothing. I don't feel anything for anyone, I don't miss anyone, I don't want to please anyone, I don't want to see anyone, be with anyone, talk to anyone.Perhaps my faux independence has been substituted with independence.

I like this, but equally don't. It doesn't make for good reading. And so to make sure the next seven days are also equally uninteresting and depressing I intend to occupy myself with work. Hoping that I will buckle under the pressure of my impending deadline, and once again be able to feel something, anything at all.

Monday, 24 November 2008

let it happen

As I put the thin glass vessel to my lips, the cold, autumnal colour rushes in, and I feel a sudden rush of relaxation. This is something I have felt for four days now.

On Friday night I receive a message from Nos. I grab a bottle of vodka, half a bottle of rum and some cloudy lemonade and the next thing I know we're playing drinking games at hers. Pretty soon we head out to a gig. And by the middle of the evening the concoction of intoxicants has taken over my body. I find myself feeling alive once again. I feel fantastic, although (probably) look a state.

Then it's 4am. I pull the shattered credit card out of my pocket and palm the pieces into someones hand. Then it's back to Nos's. We send some stupid messages to weirdos on facebook, have a cup of tea, and retire.

Something has changed in me, and I know it.Even though my head is murky, day light hurts my eyes and voices ring in my ears.

Nothing can dampen this feeling. In truth, this is what it felt like before the feeling went away. It's like my body has taken a small part of whatever it was flowing in my blood stream and replicated it. I feel fantastic. I

Wednesday, 19 November 2008

I slept

I don't know how long for, but it's the most beautiful feeling.

money can't buy this

Somewhere between the waking up and two dry Wheat-a-bix, the thought of a semi-normal day fails out of my head and explodes with the harsh reality of living with five brain dead morons.

Much of the day follows a usual pattern, with the exception that I am trying to avoid everyone I live with.On account that I can no longer be bothered; and my simple request for one night of unbroken sleep falls on deaf ears.

The promise of a cardio workout slips away and in an attempt to find some comfort in escape, I find myself on a bus heading across town. I arrive at a friends. I haven't seem him since I moved but already I know this is a chance to chill out, to be myself, my home self. The pleasure of a pressure-less environment is short lived and I find myself on the return journey home. Most of which is spent, not actually moving.

As I push the key into the door it appears that I have become quite the shadow. Breaking the silence I push over a stall covered in dirty plates, positioned at my door as some sort of epic revenge. The crashing a diversion as I slip into my room.

Pulling a collection of the designer clothes that I have acquired from the wardrobe they fall lifeless on the floor. Swapping my currently outfit for a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, a grey polo (half the collar popped) and no shoes; the perfect backdrop for my tired, black-rimmed eyes. I bundle my clothes together,cradling them and descend six floors, to the wash room, the shock of the ice cobbles against my naked feet.

Realising that this area has also been invaded by the morons that I share my life with, I turn and exit as noticeably as I entered.

Sunday, 16 November 2008

something, sometimes

Before I get to the bottom of the cup I fill it again. Each time noticing the heat from the new tea. Six cups later and I've yet to move. There is something relaxing and numbing about drinking leaf over bag.

The day, is full of pointless tasks, like hovering, tidying and cooking. I find the time, in between living and being alive to pop into town with a friend of mine. She asks me compose a reading list for her, which I happily oblige, and so we spend much of our time in Waterstones. (I find it hard to shop for books anywhere else? Book snobbery?)

We spend the good part of an hour, if not more, waiting for a bus. I don't mind this, but it clearly makes A uncomfortable. I remind her that its nice to do nothing, especially as we have Hitler breathing down our necks all the time.

I do a weekly shop, and buy Nytol. Where I ask the pharmacist for a bigger box. She looks at me sternly, and tells me that perhaps I need to see a doctor if its that bad, or perhaps I need something stronger. I ask if she stocks Valium. She's clearly not impressed.

The rest of the weekend is spent in bed, sadly with no one (although if anyone besides me where in it I'd probably tell them to fuck off),drinking Ceylon and reading. I think this: I haven't left the room for a good 72 hours and I've never been more content. you go create another fable...

Thursday, 13 November 2008

0058 - 0206

00:58 "I've got the latest copy of mens health for the economy lecture tomorrow"

01:01 "Good I'll bring the new glamor"

And so our lecture tomorrow is organised. In an attempt to pretend that the economy doesn't exist and an attempt to forget we are poor students we always end up at the back of the theater reading magazines.

After a day exploring a foreign, somewhat weird,city with a group of people I barely know. I'm feeling pretty shitty.Mainly because I'm tired. This morning the thought to wear proper footwear and a coat slips out of my head,and I find myself in my moccasin slippers and a tshirt. By the early evening my feet are killing me and my nipples are inverted.

Today I epically fail at trying not to be a snob. Never the less I'm happy to remind myself that there is still plenty of time to change this.

I also speak with Rugby Boy. Whom I tell that I have spent the last few weeks feeling vacant and numb. Apathetic. He tells me that, although he used to feel this, things for him are looking up. He's over the girl. I suggest, in a semi-sincere way, we marry, but receive no reply. Later I find out (from the horse's mouth at least) that things aren't so rosey after all, and his family are currently unstable. I feel quite sorry for him and secretly just want to give him a massive man cuddle...although he'd probably inhale me.

In the last forty minutes of the night,before I try and sleep, I discovered that being stupid helps you forget that you a horrible person. So spend my time throwing garlic mayo at my house mates, screaming and lounging on the sofa in my briefs, eating cheap Sainsburrys Basic crisps and cold pizza from a box on the floor. It's's taste...likewise.

Monday, 10 November 2008

running up that hill

My mind is flickering again. I'm tired. I knew I'd be tired before I even went to sleep, but for some reason sleeping doesn't make me less tired. I'm thinking, thinking, what am I doing here, and finding it hard to focus on the man sitting at the other end of the table.

As various thoughts flash through my head I'm feeling pretty low, I start to well up. I want to step outside, and come back in and feel alive again, interested. But I don't. And I don't really have a reason for feeling like this.

Apart from every piece of group work I've done so far is shit, my models look like they were made by down syndrome kids, and no one in my group ever gives a shit. This course really is intense.

Today I've promised myself that I will start my routine again, and that I wont pretend to be a little rich boy anymore, that I'll try to make an effort with people. I have to say I'm doing quite well.

But then at the conference table I pull out my phone, and suddenly realise how uninterested and pretentious I must look. I go to text CH, but stop, and decide to text someone else instead.

"Why am I here?"

The reply I get is useless.

Later, at the same table, it appears we are debating three books that I have never read. Only everything is quiet and everyone is trying not to be noticed. So I take the lead, having decided to fuck it. I don't care if I look like a dick, or if my last project was a fail and everyone is laughing at the model, that I didn't make, sitting on my studio. I put on my best I'm-fucking-proud-to-be-British accent and shoot the bull. Pulling out the occasional quote.

"The eyes do not see things but images of things that mean other things"

I relate to this, and head off on a tangent. Realising that I probably look like a pretentious twat. I stop and let someone else speak, but no one does, and I look even more stupid. I flip to the front cover of the bound books and scribble that I must remember to actually read these books, then shove the bundle into my jean pocket. End the debate and go home.

Spending the rest of the night stuffing my face with pizza and harribo. I've never comfort eaten before, but I can see why its addictive.

Friday, 7 November 2008

the perfect stranger

At 4am my house mates come home. Hopelessly drunk. In the hope that I'll get some quality entertainment I wander into the hall to find a dozen or so bodies. Only a handful of which I am acquainted. Staying up for a few more hours I enjoy the stupidity of these drunks, until it all gets a little out of hand and somehow a rubbish bin is emptied into the third lobby.

On the train on the way home I busy myself by creating a large data file on my desktop, deleting it, and then creating it again. Close the lid of my notebook and through it hap-haphazardly into my holdall (later to find that by doing so I have removed a large chunk from the keyboard.) As the train pulls into the station the I can feel the pace of life changing with the pace of the engines. Somethings never change, and home is one of them. I've planned four days of nothing. A little break.

Feeling tired from the night before I kid myself that I might try and get some sleep, of course this doesn't happen. I wake up the next morning, pack the car and drive to the city. I've made two appointments. One to get my laptop fixed, and other to get my mullet fixed.

During the interval between the two events I wonder into a book shop. Pick the first title that comes into my head and ask the cashier to find it for me, which she does. She compliments my choice and I buy it. Carrying the book down the high street I adapt it, I carry it like its my bible, the perfect compliment to my already linear, cutting outfit. Today I've chosen to wear a charming grey Diesel Polo shirt, Black River Island jeans, a giant eagel belt buckle and my Ted Classics. I use the hood of my jumper to cover my giant mullet as I sit, in a rather self obsessed manner reading on a bench amidst the bussle of the city.

During my hair appointment, my hairdresser crowns me "king of puke" after I tell her a rancid story that happened a few weeks ago, and another that happened a few nights ago in the business district of the city in which I now reside. I like this title. Perhaps it will stick.

I meet the parents, we pretend to be frightfully well-to-do and go for lunch in an art gallery. I'm not big on anything that isn't a carbohydrate at the moment (although the reason for this is beyond me) and so order a roasted vegetable pasta dish. Most of which my father eats.

I shop with my mother. I think she likes to show me off. Look at my son who choses the most delightful outfits for me. We use her credit card and I buy some new clothes. Shortly realising the charming young man who cant use a till also cant take a security tag off a shirt. So I pull it off myself, ripping the shirt as I do so.

We have coffee, I drop my parents at their car and then race them home. Yes, three people from the same family does warrant taking two cars into the city.

This is probably one of the nicest days I have it a long time.