Just another Manic Monday (ooh ah)
Hey all,
It's 0940 on Monday Morning, and I have had a pretty quiet weekend.
Went down to Bognor Regis, and managed to make it there by 1400. The train ride to Bognor was uneventful, though I did decide against reading the copy of Bridget Jones Diary that I had brought along for fear of suddenly developing oestrogen poisoning.
I couldn't tell whether some teenage chavs at the station were calling me Emo, or whether they just have a stupid nickname/group mating call or something. Strange, I spend all my time in London, wear what I want and no-one tries to start trouble, I go down to Bognor and suddenly I'm wondering whether I'll have to crack some heads one minute off the train. I ran into Mum before I had to make any decisions, one way or the other.
I'm not a tough guy, I just find it rampagingly offensive when confronted with people who don't have anything better to do than through inaccurate slurs at strangers. Was I wearing a pair of skin-tight women's jeans belted around my thighs? Did my haircut and colour cost me £120? Am I 15 years old?
Screwit. Next time I go to Bognor I'm wearing my leather jacket and Motorhead shirt and Docs.
We stopped in at some second hand shops, including a second hand bookshop up there with the best of them in Camden (I bought a volume of Corum stories by Michael Moorcock, as well as Golden Fool by Robin Hobb (I didn't feel like waiting on the Stratford Library to find me the copy when it was there for less than a fiver)).
We were going to walk home, but it was hotter than Satan's Sauna and I had stupidly packed a heavy satchel.
We took a taxi to Elmer, then walked on the beach to Grandpa Bill's House.
Back to Elmer for dinner then I fell asleep at 8pm. I read the first few chapters of Golden Fool between 1 and 3 AM, then fell asleep again till five or six.
Unfortunately Bill and Isabella weren't coming over, since Isabella always gives me a serve for oversleeping.
Mum and Dad set to packing, we had a pub lunch across the road while the first England Match of the World Cup Played and then back to packing. I fell asleep for an hour while Mum and Dad packed, only to have to try to cram my books and the Conference Loot that Dad had given me into my already overfilled satchel. I wound up blagging an extra bag at the last minute.
The cab ride to Heathrow was okay, except I stupidly sat on the wrong side of the car again, meaning that I had bright sunlight on my face the whole way (unless we were going through some atmospheric English Woods Roads or some Scenic Villages with Castles on One Side).
I hate sunlight on my face. It hurts my eyes, burns my skin and makes me feel anxious that the UV is going to trigger a coldsore. Or at least give me wrinkles. I tried hanging up a bandanna between me and the sun, but too much UV filtered through. So I pulled a T-Shirt out of my satchel.
Eventually we got to Heathrow, where we said our goodbyes etc.
I used to Tube Ride back home to read some more Robin Hobb and listen to Neurosis. For some reason listening to Neurosis in Lush West London makes perfect sense.
Because of work on the Picadilly Line I had to take a replacement bus from Somewhere or Other to North Acton. Looking out the window or the bus, something gave it away that I was in an Australian Enclave, but I couldn't figure what. Looking back, I think it was the abscence of a the blanket of St George Cross flags, shirts and tattoos that is covering the rest of England.
I got home eventually, and I wondered whether I should have a shower then go out...
For going out: Might see one of the girls I met last weekend. Dancing is good for the soul. Now a Slimelight Member, might as well go often etc.
Against: My sleeping pattern has brutally snapped back to a healthy Day/Night balance, why ruin it by dancing til dawn and sleeping all Sunday. I swore I was never again going to a club just because a girl might be there. Every man, his girl and his dog are going to be at Downlode at Donnington this weekend anyway.
While I was deciding I started watching some movie about a blind violinist who has the cataracts cut off her eyes and becomes involved in a murder case, so I missed the last tube. No trouble.
Got up at five in the morning, and spent Sunday Morning washing clothes, taking catnaps, ironing clothes, writing a shopping list, watching the Sunday Omnibus Repeat of Hollyoaks and finally reading more Robin Hobb once I had run out of clothes to wash and hangers to hang clean shirts on. Lay down for a nap at three and woke up when it was dark.
I kept reading/napping until about 8 AM.
Today I'm collecting my Cheap Monday drainpipe jeans, shopping for food and planning my moves. Maybe going to Ikea in Croydon to look at desks (I was happy to find that the half price sale has been extended til 25th June).
And may do some writing. I don't know when my AFI interview is up. I really hope I haven't soured the editor on me.
Anyways, better go.
Over and out.
J
It's 0940 on Monday Morning, and I have had a pretty quiet weekend.
Went down to Bognor Regis, and managed to make it there by 1400. The train ride to Bognor was uneventful, though I did decide against reading the copy of Bridget Jones Diary that I had brought along for fear of suddenly developing oestrogen poisoning.
I couldn't tell whether some teenage chavs at the station were calling me Emo, or whether they just have a stupid nickname/group mating call or something. Strange, I spend all my time in London, wear what I want and no-one tries to start trouble, I go down to Bognor and suddenly I'm wondering whether I'll have to crack some heads one minute off the train. I ran into Mum before I had to make any decisions, one way or the other.
I'm not a tough guy, I just find it rampagingly offensive when confronted with people who don't have anything better to do than through inaccurate slurs at strangers. Was I wearing a pair of skin-tight women's jeans belted around my thighs? Did my haircut and colour cost me £120? Am I 15 years old?
Screwit. Next time I go to Bognor I'm wearing my leather jacket and Motorhead shirt and Docs.
We stopped in at some second hand shops, including a second hand bookshop up there with the best of them in Camden (I bought a volume of Corum stories by Michael Moorcock, as well as Golden Fool by Robin Hobb (I didn't feel like waiting on the Stratford Library to find me the copy when it was there for less than a fiver)).
We were going to walk home, but it was hotter than Satan's Sauna and I had stupidly packed a heavy satchel.
We took a taxi to Elmer, then walked on the beach to Grandpa Bill's House.
Back to Elmer for dinner then I fell asleep at 8pm. I read the first few chapters of Golden Fool between 1 and 3 AM, then fell asleep again till five or six.
Unfortunately Bill and Isabella weren't coming over, since Isabella always gives me a serve for oversleeping.
Mum and Dad set to packing, we had a pub lunch across the road while the first England Match of the World Cup Played and then back to packing. I fell asleep for an hour while Mum and Dad packed, only to have to try to cram my books and the Conference Loot that Dad had given me into my already overfilled satchel. I wound up blagging an extra bag at the last minute.
The cab ride to Heathrow was okay, except I stupidly sat on the wrong side of the car again, meaning that I had bright sunlight on my face the whole way (unless we were going through some atmospheric English Woods Roads or some Scenic Villages with Castles on One Side).
I hate sunlight on my face. It hurts my eyes, burns my skin and makes me feel anxious that the UV is going to trigger a coldsore. Or at least give me wrinkles. I tried hanging up a bandanna between me and the sun, but too much UV filtered through. So I pulled a T-Shirt out of my satchel.
Eventually we got to Heathrow, where we said our goodbyes etc.
I used to Tube Ride back home to read some more Robin Hobb and listen to Neurosis. For some reason listening to Neurosis in Lush West London makes perfect sense.
Because of work on the Picadilly Line I had to take a replacement bus from Somewhere or Other to North Acton. Looking out the window or the bus, something gave it away that I was in an Australian Enclave, but I couldn't figure what. Looking back, I think it was the abscence of a the blanket of St George Cross flags, shirts and tattoos that is covering the rest of England.
I got home eventually, and I wondered whether I should have a shower then go out...
For going out: Might see one of the girls I met last weekend. Dancing is good for the soul. Now a Slimelight Member, might as well go often etc.
Against: My sleeping pattern has brutally snapped back to a healthy Day/Night balance, why ruin it by dancing til dawn and sleeping all Sunday. I swore I was never again going to a club just because a girl might be there. Every man, his girl and his dog are going to be at Downlode at Donnington this weekend anyway.
While I was deciding I started watching some movie about a blind violinist who has the cataracts cut off her eyes and becomes involved in a murder case, so I missed the last tube. No trouble.
Got up at five in the morning, and spent Sunday Morning washing clothes, taking catnaps, ironing clothes, writing a shopping list, watching the Sunday Omnibus Repeat of Hollyoaks and finally reading more Robin Hobb once I had run out of clothes to wash and hangers to hang clean shirts on. Lay down for a nap at three and woke up when it was dark.
I kept reading/napping until about 8 AM.
Today I'm collecting my Cheap Monday drainpipe jeans, shopping for food and planning my moves. Maybe going to Ikea in Croydon to look at desks (I was happy to find that the half price sale has been extended til 25th June).
And may do some writing. I don't know when my AFI interview is up. I really hope I haven't soured the editor on me.
Anyways, better go.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 8:41 am
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