It was a last minute decision to come here. It’s okay. Spacious, screens. There’s a commotion about a group of young people. They’re arguing. That happens in groups of people, which is why I don’t function in them, or engage in situations with multiple people. The mixed race man with check trousers is here, not … Continue reading 104. Thursday afternoon at Cannon Street.
At St Pancras. I do like it here. It’s more expensive than the other speakeasies I frequent, but more decadent, populated by continental travelling people. I haven’t stolen any plates for ages, it’s not really possible with the number of attentive people hovering. They’re mostly pleasant though. An attractive man opposite. Pale, young, comfortable face, … Continue reading 66. Friday.
The first Sunday of the new year. Why do we call it the “new” year? Why not just the year? A cloud of irritability is settling in. It is still bitterly cold outside, with a dark gery sky and wet streets. Yesterday morning I cycled around the west end. I’ve been intending to do this … Continue reading 86. Sunday afternoon. Murder, all bran and rape.
I’m maybe oversensitive to it but it feels as though the distancing and mask thing is loosing importance and momentum now. There’s a Hoggarth/Lord Of The Flies vibe of destruction abroad. I don’t want to waste energy gatekeeping it. There will be self-appointed expert authorities doing that for years to come. The Melvyn Hayes character … Continue reading 45. Another day. Roughly the same place.
I feel so much more positive today. In control, content, not quite content or happy or satisfied, but accepting of the present state, knowing that I can’t change it at the moment, so I just have to tolerate it. Not accept it completely or absolutely. I’m not thinking about work when I don’t have to. … Continue reading 126. The same place, the next day.
Every morning begins the same way at the moment. I wake up at 6am, without reason. The body clock is set now, for the moment. Radio Three plays strange piano music. There are softly spoken words inbetween, I only listen to a few of them. I choose what to wear based on looking outside. Cloudy … Continue reading 42. Thursday.
Today is worse. Bleakness, purposeless. Winter wind and rain outside. I’m not sure if I can function much longer like this. Empty barren streets and alleyways. More photographs of disrupted earth, but why capture them, does anyone want to see? I want to paint the earth. Acrylic paint is flexible, plastic, merging, blending, fake. Tactile, … Continue reading 29. Saturday.
Back into old habits. In the same place, it’s full of people. I enjoyed seeing people yesterday, am enjoying them less today. It’s too noisy, I’m not used to being amongst crowds. I prefer the sombre half-state of desertion, forgotten places, dusty grey streets, all those evocative clichéd descriptive phrases I fall into the habit … Continue reading 103. Sunday afternoon.
Borders are closed, France, Netherlands, Ireland, Canada. It’s like the siege in Passport To Pimlico. There was a train derailment today. They’re becoming commonplace now and not reported. Are we becoming numb and desensitised to everything? Monday morning, Winter solstice. I’m up quite early, it is still dark outside. Sainsbury’s is already open, with it’s … Continue reading 83. Sunday evening. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.