Thursday, 22 July 2010

It's three am, maybe four. And I don't really know where I am. Somewhere between Bristol and London, somewhere off of the M4. Somewhere with bitter coffee. And Styrofoam cups, and this truly is a shit blend.

And through my headphone Bon Iver, The Wolves (Act I and II) is playing. And I'm thinking about the line 'In the morning I'll call you' and I'm thinking, who would I call if I were alone. And I can't think. My eyes are dry and gritty and have been since surgery. And the polished glass of the for-court doesn't help. And my car; Electric blue, hard top, charcoal interior, discreet, but light and powerful enough to push 140 on the empty motorways, sits empty, alone, under the unnaturally bright lights. And I'm thinking we're all alone.

And on the passenger seat, in the glove box, scattered around the foot well, extracted pages of Exit Through the Wound. And it's a story with which I am familiar. A story which I have read, six, seven, eight times now. And there's something soothing about driving at speed and reading from a page, something, uncontrollably relaxing. And I can only remember the first line, the first three words, the lights on my dash. The night.

Thursday, 8 July 2010

There's a sign in the record shop, that's pillbox read, like my jeans, and reads 'Keep calm and carry on' and I'm looking at it, and thinking 'If only you knew'.

And I'm not really looking for anything really, just filling time before heading back to the office, and I'm certainly not looking for any CD's or DVD's because I don't own a single CD or DVD and don't wish to. And I'm wearing jeans because I can. And they are red, because I want people to think I'm a little bit different but I'm actually very 'middle of the road'.

I'm dialling a number, actually dialling from memory, on my phone, and it rings and no one answers, because no one picks up because my phone cuts the call after the second ring. But I keep the hand set next to my ear and walk towards the cashier, and I'm just thinking about how undesirable she looks, and how undesirable most of Bristol looks. And I'm just staring, trying to remove the awkwardness I've created by faking a phone call.

And now I'm in a book shop. One of the only ones left in town. I'm picking up Imperial Bedrooms and I'm flicking through the pages, and trying to find the mention of London Preppy, but can't. And I'd buy it, if it weren't hardback and larger than the other books I own. And the yellow dust jacket makes me feel sick. In the self-help section my phone receives several text messages all at once.

'I'll call you when I'm at Hong Ku Lou, Lunch? I'm in a client meeting until 1245 x'

'I'm outside, where are you? x'

'______, call HR when you get this.'

'I've been here twenty minutes now, I guess you're not coming.'

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Thursday, 1 July 2010

I'm walking through Victoria Square, and sipping at a milkshake from some Coffee Shop. It's warm in this neighbourhood, but not humid, unlike the centre. And the trees offer some shelter from the sun, and the streets create light breeze. And I'm staring at my reflection in a laminated sign that reads 'Dog name is Archie'. And then Im staring at my reflection of my reflection in my Prada Sport Sunglasses. And I guess this is how people fill their days when they've nothing pressing.

Judging by the light its four of five,long shadows in open grass, and a group of maybe six or seven school children run around the undergrowth. 'Pretend you're having a baby' she says. And this sentence resonates in my otherwise empty mind, and I wonder if I'll ever conceive. I can smell the earth, and I'm watching the social interactions, and it feels like I'm looking at something that I'm finally a part of. And this is slowly happening all over the city, the street view between Colston Tower and Colston Hall. Maple green leaf juxtaposed against the old brick. The sense of space created by the gates of Bristol Magistrates Court. And I'm designing these feelings in my head, exploring relations between man and environment. And this is something I've been trained to do, and I can't see it ending.

And the sun is warming my back, arm, shake, and the milk is starting to split. And my phone clicks active, and I stare at the screen, and it seems like ages since I last took a breath.And I don't know the number and neither do I want to. And all manner of sounds propagate my silence, traffic, screaming, barking, a violent wind that rocks the trees. And I realise, this moment of calm, I've just created, this moment was in my head.