Sunday, 12 July 2009

Incongruity feels good, still don't think good

You feel like you're alright? Want to test it? Look at it? How are you now? Fucked still right? GA GA GA GA GA GAAAAAAAA oo (infinity). I want it to stop now. I want it to stop and I want to start again. I am preoccupying myself with activities, totaling a grand amount of two tangos, three ballets (one slash jazz, one slash floor-barre), one each pilates and yoga, topped off with a tea dance. Sixty seven pounds and twelve hours of forgetting myself, not counting copious free minutes spent thrashing around to Jonathan Richman in my room.

I went to Granta talk at the Southbank,

I just wanted to say this is REALLY difficult at the moment, I am really not thinking anything, because if I allow myself to think I am thinking of the bad stuff straight away. Even though it's blended in tone, like the sour cream top layer on a Pret creme caramel, I am having to consciously cut through it and ignore the sharp taste, trying to tap into the sweetness beneath. It's REALLY hard and to be honest I'd rather be dancing to this song I'm listening to.

Anyway as I was saying, or trying to think about saying, I went to the Granta talk and I got the book 4 weeks before it's due out, and got it signed by A.L. Kennedy. I want to tell you (well me, but you) that please have something better to say when you meet someone you admire than 'I'm going to read your book of short stories because I don't have the memory for a full novel'. Stuff like 'have you got any gigs coming up?' or 'I like what you said about computer screens making the eyes oscillate differently', something interesting for fucks sake. Please. Interesting or nothing. Which could also apply here, I've said this before, but I'm trying to work through it, and who are you anyway, you 219 anons and 1 comment that I guessed.

I had a great day. It was a day off. And even trying to have a day off cycling didn't work, and I probably went further than I usually do after getting lost in EC1. Loads of really cool urban-developed parks, defo going to go back to that ridiculous one-seat alien pod swing, if I can remember where it is. I thought at the time how fun it was to get a bit lost, to have somewhere to go, but be quite relaxed about arrival. It reminded me of that thing I used to relay to people as though wisdom, 'it's no fun having nothing to do, only having things to do and not doing them!'I mean that rambling around town with no destination would be difficult, but having markers of time and places to be, gives even a loose structure that is pleasing to stray from.

I didn't know what to expect from the tea dance. Not quite neo knitting yet, give it a year I'd say. Those old boys are in for a right treat! I had such a fun time, spun around by a man who couldn't quite hear what I was saying and didn't know the rules, only the dances. He seemed to take a shine to me, and I wondered if his wife had died. I wanted to know how old he was, couldn't have been much more than ten years older that my dad, maybe mid 70s. There was a touch of Thai bride I suspected, mute-ish little wimps who came to life in spins. Don't hold me to that assertion, but it was a feeling I got. There was an small guy with a dropped waist and white wispy hair, who danced with a near 6 foot porcelain sailor size 6, and they were the sexiest couple going. He was amazing and I had a bit of a crush on him and he was about 90.

I felt quite special today. I picked up three Scandinavian-looking knives from the car boot, went to yoga in my matching jersey short suit. Had a really good coffee (Passeio, 'Ferrero Rocher on the sofa') with some re-toasted Turkish bread with lashings of salty butter. Read the papers online, danced around to Mary J. Blige a bit. Went into town on a new route full of parks and police. Danced fox trot, quickstep, waltz, rhumba and cha cha. Drank a LOT of tea, in china, and ate lots of margerine-light cake. Took off my red heels and rode home on my single speed bike, to a bag of lemon-salted almonds and a Julia Bradbury episode. Made a quick Nigel special, using that lovely Taste the Difference square spaghetti, very good. Had a shower and hung out my washing, and then remembered myself. Melancholy. I am an incongruous mix-up, but then I always preferred a 10p mix-up to a quarter of something samey.

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