It feels like I’ve been through so much in my mind lately. This is good. Things have to processed and put away. Thrown away, even. I feel free, light, happy. Work is changing, I’m applying for a different job. It has given me a new perspective on myself. I’m probably starting a coaching programme. It isn’t therapy but obviously it is, we just don’t call it that. It’s like the best sort of therapy, like the one I had at university, a gorgeous man with beautiful eyes in a soft grey room with uplighters. I have to choose a coach. Perhaps I can go on a date with each of them to decide who I like. Working for that company is like belonging to a cult.
I’m drifting today. I’ve had lunch and a drink and I feel ready to go home. I want to empty the flat, paint the floor white, sit low down, think, stare. The room fills with light early in the day. I’ll miss that when I move on. I’d like to stay long enough to watch the houses being knocked down, but it’s impossible to know when that will be. I can’t be trapped by the place forever. It is too difficult to contemplate new places now though. I need to think about and plan for my future, and retirement, social housing, but nothing is certain now, people like me can so easily get cast adrift. I think about Terry, I hope he’s okay. What will he do?
Harry is in New York at the moment. I’m hoping he’ll agree to a trip to Lisbon in a month or two. He will want to plan each day more than me but I don’t mind. I could walk, photograph, film, look at the sea. Does Lisbon have a coast? We’ll find out I expect when we get there.
I’ve just found out that Marc Almond did a cover version of The Herd’s From The Underworld. I want to sing now. That’s a good sign. I’m in control, loosely allowing myself to slip out of control. Pushing myself, not being pulled. I wonder if I’ll ever pull again.
Andrew Stevenson 