The sun is bright, my eyes are hurting. I had the oddest of dreams. I woke at 4.30am this morning, with visions of deformed mice, a washing machine draining water onto a field, some young men stepping awkwardly. I thought about getting up and going to the river, but I didn’t. The fact is I don’t feel anything for the place any more. It is a connection to that past time, empty time, depression, uncertainty. No hope. I don’t want to be reminded of that time. The films about the river are suitably abstract now, so the process of finishing them is good, is of closure, is about moving on. I suppose once they are complete I will be able to stop making film. I don’t want to do anything new. I think I can accomplish more, say more, and hopefully be less self-indulgent and more meaningful with writing. It’s more like a craft to learn properly, with rules to follow. No place for the art school posturing and theorising. Just get on with it. You don’t need so many resources for writing either. Laptop, headspace, time, notebooks.
Somewhere else now, another railway terminus canteen. Cockney construction workers, sexist, vulgar, racist, a young one quite endearing. His older bullying friends are routinely abusing him, name calling. Anyone different is a target, fair game.
On the way out today on the train over the viaducts to Victoria I felt slightly stoned, spaced out. Tiredness, drinking, and I think mental turmoil is making me deranged, detached, unhinged. I have a perfect view of the ticket barriers. There are waves of human flow. Right to left at this time, as they arrive to catch trains. It reminds me of Bakarah, a film about human nature, human life, lots of wide panning shots, slowing down, speeding up. The cockneys are ogling women, and talking about experiences with whores. Of course they are. Normal conversations involving abusing friends. There’s a Derek and Clive feel to their stories though.
Apparently it’s raining somewhere. I like feeling rain in the air, or rather the smell and coolness of the air when rain is imminent. I haven’t felt that for a while. I like being at home hearing the rain outside. I like having the balcony, it gives me a view on the world, but not a part of the world I want to be in. I fantasise about living on a rooftop in the centre still. Not actually on a rooftop, I’d need a roof, but outdoor roof space would be good. I’d like to be close to the sky.
It’s funny watching people running for trains. What are they in a hurry for? Why bother?
Andrew Stevenson 