Atypical evening - bowl bowling bowls

What are you doing tonight?
Before you say 'the same thing I..' yeah yeah
Oh I wasn't even thinking that. Probably just have a quiet one. Three birthdays running as of tomorrow.
Yeah and sunday if we go up we will be drinking until you can't walk or see.


I walked into my front door and put the shopping away. I made a pitta sandwich and decided to go out to the skatepark. Georgia asked if I had got that Teeline book from the library for her and I said I'd forgotten but I'd have a look.
They didn't have it so I got her three other slightly relevent ones, one of which it turned out she had. I drop these off on my way to Tolworth, enjoying driving with a cd on and The Dolphin beside me small and blue. I don't know where the bowl is but The Dolphin wants to ride the bowl and I want to ride The Dolphin.
After asking strangers at Charrington Bowl (the tenpin kind) I am directed past the station, right. I push myself atop The Dolphin along the pavement weaving around two townies on the corner and down the road. Some middle aged men are playing football and I watch their game through the zootrope of the flicking by fence with the setting sun playing on my eyes. I climb the fence after seeing the gate is locked to the park but unnecesarily it turns out as I see someone gliding by in a way humans don't move as standard. I walk towards the lawn bowls club which is where the skate bowl is and the kids shout that the gate is on the other side. I go in and the surface is smooth but there is just a bowl and nothing else. It is decent but I don't know if The Dolphin can handle it. I mess about finding my feet and then learn to drop in on it. Not that hard.
I leave before it gets too dark and skate back to the car. I drive away but can only turn left so decide to take another left turn and explore. Part way along a road I may never have been down I start coughing and am sick out of the window. This could affect my driving so I carry on cautiously trying to breathe regularly and pull up in the Toby Carvery. A car is pulling out and I take it's space and walk in the back door. I ask at the bar for a glass of water which is filled from the kitchen and tastes slightly like bitters or something.
I decide to order food. Mushroom Jalfrezi, which I find difficult to say. The man doesn't understand me, and when he does he struggles to find it on the til, until realising it is listed as 'mushroom curry'. I say I am sitting in the fenced of raised sofa area by the window. I sit down. There are no newspapers but the music is occaisionally worthy of a modicum of attention.
As I wait a woman sits down, sent over by a man at the bar. I assume she is with him. He brings over the drinks, asks what the deal is with 'just a coke'. She says she's been drinking a lot recently.
It turns out this is a first date. They sat down opposite me so I think about getting up. I also consider listening intently. Instead I half listen and wait for my food, quietly amused by the hopelessness of the date and the guy's insistence that she's easy to talk to even though she seems entirely uncomfortable. It's a blind date and he's accidentally insulting her, apologising and talking about his ex. He says the woman he's on the date with looked better with curly hair then says he meant different. Maybe slimmer. I leave them to it and recieve my food from the bar, which I eat in a different area of Worcester Park Toby Carvery. The food is adequate and warmish and I eat it happily alongside the 3 flavoured prawn crackers. The sauce is out of a packet but it is served in a cold balti dish. It wasn't expensive. I finish my food and leave.
I get back in the car still driving at random, not wanting to return home the way I came. I arrive back and say hi to Antony down the intercom. He buzzes me in and we work in the artwork concepts for his track.
Later on I meet Chris in the alley. It is dark and shadows lurk in the corner. I am listening to Joy Division. I walk the legnth of the alley and wait by the river. I ask some strangers for a light and they make me catch it. I look at the CCTV and look at myself standing waiting at the end of an alley. I walk back through, meeting Chris half way down. We quickly discuss the shoot and I rattle off 18 shots. Half way through a lairy crowd swagger passed with two girls traipsing behind. They yell 'no photography in the alley'. One of the girls says 'band photos?' and a guy says 'one man band'. Chris' band was once a one man project. We are done so we walk out, talking about portfolios. We shake hands on the corner opposite the chippy and disappear into the night.

Thought of the day

What would a bass guitar sound like played with an electric blender?

My sofa is magnetic

Forwards, further into the day, with a bungee cord around my waist connected to my red corduroy IKEA sofabed.

Something I saw today, red wax crayon in the road.

Head:electrostatic
Stomach:upset
Brow:frown

The colour of things:blue grey
The shape of things:nebulous

A long walk nowhere.

Forward. Furthur.

Failure is beautiful

Shit from an old notebook (emo poem no. 411)

The shield on my
heart is a cage, is a
vice.
You cannot see me
where alone I sing
softly
as nightmares flickr
in dark cragged corners.
You may speak
to the satellite birds
that flutter
arund my skull.
You may look
into my shuttered eyes.
But my song is silent
and already sung
and my heart is
shrunk and dry
come and kiss my
dusty mouth come
and hold my idle hand
Try and coax me out.
My dusty heart
is cracked in a cage
my idle hands
are a vice for the
heart, my shuttered
eyes are birdpecked
and my

1 2 3 4

Slightly sunken from too much sleep and a night in my flat when people were probably out watching a band I thought I wanted to see. Dazed but optimistic about new project. Still haven't started Mills and Boon book and the other thing I'm writing made me pass out on the floor.

Things to do.

Get home,
Session this project with James.
Drink lots of water.
Mend things I've broken.
Leave alone things that need leaving alone.
Clean, tidy, organise.
Choose a book and read it all the way through.
Make my bands real.
Exercise.

Things not to do.

Drink for a while.
Assume toast constitutes a meal when I don't move much.
Stagnate.
Let down friends unnecessarily.
Spread myself thin.


Where do I fit in all this?
Who am I who asks?

The impossibility of progress.

Poem

When you can see your regrets ahead of you
An approaching forest of frozen needles
When you can see what it was you didn't do
And what if? And but though? And why not?

When you put the sword to your chest
To see if your heart is still beating
When you think that you tried your best
But did you? And really? And oh I forgot.

When you look back at a sea of calamity
That is just a flick book of photos in an album
In an abandoned room where you slept soundly
And dreamt, and woke, and loved,
And your narrative is a crime to your loved ones,
And your sacrifices are token abandonings,
And your lingering on things undone
Is a way of avoiding doing. And all that you've lost
and all that you've slung, and all you held on to
and all you have won is the breath of a falling
spring blossom that rotted and brushed your cheek
on it's
way to the
ground.

Heat exhausted and flagging

Things to do
-------------

Step up and get on with it.

Start new blog for graphics work.

Get on a 'roller' with current projects.

Write 'what if' poem thought of walking down the road.

Do fun things for money.

Clean the house.

Socialise moderately.

Keep clear.

Foot in front of the other.

Hold optimism like a frail outcast bird cradled in soft arms.

----------------------------------------
That'll do for now.

Espana

Holy Hesus am I too tired to write anything of note here. Spain was a good break. There was sun and some fun things happened. I saw Picasso paintings until I wanted to vomit because my head was throbbing. The cities were alive with hooded figures bearing gold crosses. I have some photos of this and that. A lot out of car windows. Drive by photography is underrated as a genre argueably. Came up with an idea for a binocular single lens reflex adaptor involving some kind of triangular prism while sunbathing. May have been slightly sunstruck plus brain in shock due to swimming in surprisingly intemperate water. It is 3:09. I should listen to that Laura Marling song that always makes me think I should go to sleep.
I have photos. They will be distributed on flickr and facebook. This is my part in the spectacle. I was reading Guy DeBord by the pool. I currently hate myself to a larger degree than is appropriate for a 25 year old. I need to learn a more selfish pragmatism.
How do you go to bed again? Why on earth would I write this to nobody? I should go back to keeping a diary. If you stumble on this pointless page and have something to say write to me. I'd appreciate it.
Got a new jumper today. It fits well and I feel happy in it. Maybe it will be sunny here tomorrow. I was so tempted to get on a 35minute ferry to Tanger and just head south through Africa. Instead I continue along this arbitrary path that has been set by a mixture of ill-informed decisions, happenstance and calamity.
Optimism level is about a 6.8
If I continue writing it will be fractured words. Not sentences. Bold. Effervesence. Weedkiller. Funfair. Rabies. Enough.