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The tempest

  Sat 26th October 2013

Everything is happening quite fast. Downward mainly. So it's notes, or paragraph headings.

Thirtysomething woman in a tight white scooped-necked top on the zebra crossing at Dalton Square. Lights on green, so we can't cross. The lovely curve of her bra's hem lining her tits under her top. Got almost across to the other side when a Gothy girl I know, crossing from the other side, said hello. I hadn't noticed her at all, despite her standing a foot away from bra girl. "Oh, hello!" I said, caught out.

Very pleased with my new suede jacket. Bit pricey, ten quid from Oxfam, but it's getting compliments. I've managed to de-brand it using a razor blade. It's for women and is narrowed in at the waist.

Me and Ned and Tess went out last night and ended up dancing in the pub to local Hammond organ and drums Mod combo Get Carter. Tess in that lovely dotty dress again. Back at home we got pissed. Ned said, about the Soulful Dance night in St Annes in December, "I can't work out whether you want us to be there or not."

I sellotaped the heating switch on the boiler down to stop Hong Kong Phooey putting the heating on all fucking night.

Dreading having to tell Seriouscrush that I can't pay the rent this month.

A reconcilation with my two gay friends, over needing some help with A Midsummers Night's Dream which my middle daughter is auditioning for. Neil was rude to Trina a few months ago in a way which, even by my very liberal drinker's standards, was beyond forgiveness. He gave me his Arden Shakespeare edition of it and we had a bridge-mending chat over coffee. "We haven't seen you for months." You still don't understand why, do you?

Trina very pissed off that I didn't ring her last night as I said I would. Sending her this didn't help matters.

You see social form as a very important thing and it makes me feel obligated to conform to an artificial remembering "Oh shit I forgot I must ring Trina," with all the spontaneity drained out of it. People forget to do things. I've done the same, identically, with Kitty and Kim and they ring me up and bollock me about it and it's over, with a firm finger-wagging.

[...] It's at times like this I feel life with you would be a bit more constrained and polite. I do sometimes think that you might be better off finding someone a bit more conventional. My lack of that was what attracted you to me but it's coming home to roost now. I'm not sure I'm really made for what people call relationships. I think the whole love thing is made up and a social construct and a form of behaviour modified by chemical responses. I have never, not once, in my life, felt this rapturous loss of self in wanting to be with another, that people describe so often. It just feels alien to me, like a foreign language.

She replied saying she sees my view of love and relationships "horrifying." It's gone this time, I think. I'm not sad; this has been inevitable. Last time she was here, Kim and I sat on my bed, coursing with clarity. She said "I can have close emotional relationships with someone,"--waving her arm towards me--"or close physical ones, but not with the same person." I feel like that too.


Comment from: furtheron [Visitor]

I think we’ve heard you say that before this just gives you room for another conquest.

Sat 26th October 2013 @ 20:58
Comment from: [Member]

I’m not what women call “relationship material", I know that. I am having the odd twinge of sadness but I can’t be what she wants, and I just keep upsetting her, so let’s stop doing that.

Sat 26th October 2013 @ 21:03
Comment from: Chef [Visitor]

Ah now, The R– G–… a wonderfully Draconian 3-storey affair if memory serves. A rather cheeky pint of Guinness on a Wednesday during the open mic evenings. Jazz, manic piano, sadly no bagpipes caterwauling above the calls for radical reform, social change and the need to pish sitting down as well as many other obsequious talents gathering within its red-carpeted underbelly. Accompanied by cheap booze and a cheese-topped jacket spud, the warmth usually brings in the brightly coloured-sweater brigade, one or two goths and of course the occasional debt collecting Scot looking for outstanding non-secured loans from wapperjawed academics still high on catnip.

My associates were once offered a collection of books on nautical maps by way of payment by a young Indian woman with a proclivity for nibbling on other young women’s earlobes. After a brief phone call to establish the value and authenticity of said nautical documents, an extraction of goods was made in favour of exercising the ritual of dharna.

Sun 27th October 2013 @ 06:27
Comment from: [Member]

That was about it in an earlier reincarnation. It’s a bit of a strange hybrid pub now. I rarely go in there (3.40 / pint!) and can be a bit laddish at times, but these tough guy macho shouty men run a mile when they see people dancing. Have never had my ear nibbled in there by comely Indians though.

Hope you turned a profit on the maps.

P.S. Don’t want the pub finding me so I’ve abbreviated the name of it.

Sun 27th October 2013 @ 08:54
Comment from: Homer [Visitor]

When I read your view of love, I feel like a religious person trying to explain faith to a non-believer.

Sun 27th October 2013 @ 16:18
Comment from: GB [Visitor]

I don’t think loving someone is necessarily a rapturous loss of self, perhaps it’s just seeing the world in the light of someone else, with them as a point of reference.

I’m glad you danced in the pub. It should be encouraged.

Sun 27th October 2013 @ 21:41
Comment from: [Member]

Homer: That’s a good analogy. I could only ever “fall in love” as a form of revelation, in that sense of something happening that fundamentally alters the way one sees the world and one’s place in it. Everyone says “ah, but when you fall for someone, you’ll think differently.” Well I’ll be fifty soon and it never happened to me in my twenties so I doubt it’s going to happen now.

GB: That’s why I won’t ever have that experience: I’m too self-centred.

Sun 27th October 2013 @ 22:41

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 60 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

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63 mago
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