Mon 19th August 2019

I feel like I'm on a production line, metro-boulot-dodo; I've also had to prise some distance from Hayley. I have hardly any time to myself now and I'm losing my generally sunny disposition. I'm colonised -- by work and, at times, Hayley. I have absolutely no money, to the extent of having to borrow the bus fare to my work at the airport.

Yesterday we went to the most middle class dancey event I've been to for years. It should have been good -- a rooftop terrace in the centre of town. There were babies there, wearing ear defenders, their parents presumably not having heard of babysitters. Men in Stax and Philadephia International T-shirts stood around encircling the dancers -- in which group I was the only man. They were not my people. Hayley (again) didn't seem to like me dancing with them and kept herself on the periphery. The whole afternoon was flat and I couldn't dig myself out of it.

Last weekend was brighter. I went to Lancaster and for the first time for many months, saw Kitty and Wendy together for a brief hour. We chatted, drank and parted, with Wendy giving me the longest hug she's ever granted, her slender body a couple of layers of cotton away.

I then went to see Trina in Chester. What was meant to be a three-hour visit turned into an overnight one, and I got the 6am train and went straight to work. There's a synchrony in mine and Trina's attachments: just as I appear finally to be freeing myself from eight years of corrosive, wearing attraction to Wendy, Trina seems to have loosened herself from the grip of her own jealous obsession with her.

I had an interview on Saturday for a mental health support worker job. I quite fancy a job that involves taking people down the pub and to the cinema. They're people with various degrees of learning difficulties, from fiftysomething upwards. I'd be the only man working in the place. She's ringing me today to tell me the result; I've another interview on Thursday for a similar position.

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2 comments

Comment from: Scarlet [Visitor]

I can tell how someone feels about me when I go dancing, the truth comes out. Interesting.
Anyhow, I really hope you get this new job, it sounds like it could be rewarding.
Sx

Mon 19th August 2019 @ 14:53 You are currently replying to this comment

Comment from: [Member]

What an interesting comment Scarlet. That made me think. I was dancing with – I don’t know what the word “with” means there precisely – half a dozen women. Hayley was standing a couple of yards yonder, doing curling movements with her arms in a sort of parody of seductiveness, then occasionally coming up to me for a few seconds, putting her arms round me, as if to claim me. We’re not lovers, yet this is the second time she’s indicated to other women that I’m hers.

Hmmm…truth through dancing. The more I think about it the more it’s true. The only other boke who temporarily joined in for a couple of attention-seeking bursts of a minute or so, was doing an ostenatious dance a bit like a crab with cramp, his bottom stuck out, occupying too much space. I shuffled behind him so that he was on his own to peacock.

Thanks! That’s a sentence to have permanent member status.

Mon 19th August 2019 @ 23:44 Reply to this comment

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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.
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I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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The working man is a fucking loser.
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Babies wearing ear defenders

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

Rummage in my drawers

The Comfort of Strangers

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

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