DAY: 7th March 2012
On the way to work, walking to the Arsenal tube and can feel a pain in my right foot. Maybe due to me running drunk and frantically down the Holloway Road last night after 3. Worried I would get attacked by the solitary hooded inner city apparition across the road. Thought of a special compulsory hoody the government could invent were the perpetrator's face would be printed on the back and top of the garment so CCTV footage could identify them more effectively. Give my weeping family some solace at least. But how far would this governmental intrusion go? How long will our civil liberties be at stake? An Anti- Extra Marital Affair device, when the husband is in bed with another woman his wedding ring would project images and pre-recorded phrases his mother used to say, thus preventing him from maintaining an erection. "Beans or peas Tom?" " You can play your Gameboy after you finish your homework," "I love you Tom."Scary times.
On tube to Holborn. See an old woman with a walking stick reading an Ian Rankin thriller.
Mid 50's man gets on at Kings Cross sporting a red outdoor hill walkers coat with grey shock white hair and moustache. Looks like in a past life he hosted a children's science programme for ITV.
I began to think is there another person like me on this train doing exactly what I am doing? And if so, what are they writing about me? How many words do the eskimo's have for 'bald'?
Read snatches of a woman's paper to my left. A young man was picked randomly by a gang and was stabbed to death.
Hear an older man loudly flirt with a laughing younger woman. She is wearing a fur coat that looks like the top half of a gorilla suit.
Spanish woman meets my eyes. Skeptical of my writing.
See a poster for The Devil Inside. The advertisement states this is "The film the Vatican don't want you to see". This is untrue. The vatican don't want you to see any film. Or even be able to see.
"Will this Budget target re-election or the recovery?"
Spanish woman throws me another inquisitive glance.
"The road to economic recovery isn't a road. It's a flight path." Heathrow airports selflessly tossed two cents.
Announcer informs me I have reached Queensway and my soul emits a little whine.
Walk past an incredibly tall man with his extremely small girlfriend. From an aerial view their relationship would look suspect.
Talk to a fellow employee about being hungover. I told him that I don't appear to have a headache but if you were to throw a pen at me I would react two minutes later. We speak about going out in the West End, about the legions of tourists and drunks clogging up the pubs and footpaths, how you can't relax and enjoy your friends company. I told him about one night when a man bumped into me, I turned to face him due to a natural reaction, he took this as a taunt and puffed out his chest, I sheepishly turned away and awaited his knife in my spine, walking away I stopped to see if he was gone, when I turned he turned and again took this as a taunt. My co-worker enquired whether he was a big man. I told him these measurements don't matter to me, I barely have a shadow and can hardly take an insult never mind a punch. How I would be desperately trying to choke myself with my own tongue before my assailant could reach me. He laughed.
A waiter comes into the office and worriedly asks me why a manager was ringing him at 8 am. Was he in trouble? Did I have any answers? I told him they were ringing him at such an early hour because they wanted to make him ugly by stealing his beauty sleep. His reaction gave me the impression that this was a valid assessment.
Talk to a waitress about her new living arrangements in a hostel. She doesn't like it. I ask her does she feel safe there? She tells me that she is a big girl and can handle herself. Even when your asleep? I ask. She laughs and says nothing like that happens. I told her I begged to differ and that I could show her reams of footage on the internet. She shuddered and tried to change the topic. She says she is moving out next week so things will be better. So you have a new place? I ask. She says "Kind of". I instantly get an image of her hugging a piece of a roof.
Another waitress enters the office. I ask her about her day. She is from Poland and is here studying to be an actor. I ask her to recite something for me and she breaks into some Shakespeare A Midsummer Nights Dream. Helena:
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so
This reminds me of my conversation with Hugo the last night about how life is a multi-media mish mash.Another waitress enters to pick up her money bag. She asks me in an accusatory tone " What do you do here all day?" I decided to indulge her and told her I spend my time giving my teeth individual names.
I went downstairs and told Hugo about the Shakespeare moment. I began to think more about the beauty sleep idea. If I got the phone number of Katy Perry or Cheryl Cole I could ring them night and day at obscene hours, they would become tired, irritable, sleep weary, agressive, then I would hide their Vitamin B12 sandwiches, destroy their nervous systems, they lose their looks, lads mags lose interest, they leave us alone. Bliss.
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