I liked helpful people, I like them A LOT. I just had the pointless stress that I do, where I don't realise how much I want something till I can't. I get completely knotted, imagining letting a new object into my life, picturing it, weighing it, to and fro, worthy and weak, and once something has an absolute NO on it, I suddenly go, ah, these are the reasons that it was amazing. What knot is it in me that does that, sees good in things when the potential is expired? Not to mention them taking both desks within days of me seeing the only possible displacement in months. The chances.
I have just done my accounts. I am near as dammit £sailing over-budget. It is an exact example of going beyond my means. My means are a blue plastic net, and it's fluid, and bobs in the water, snags a bit but never changes volume, and it's very very finite. This depresses me. I tried putting too much shit in the net, and you know what, it won't frigging fit. And it's not desperate, at all, as I (over)carefully run this weird Fahrenheit pound scale to everyone else's Celsius, but to me, this is low. It's not panic for the bank, but panic for the brain.
I am about to insure my bike and pay my tax bill, and if I do these things, I think I may end up having to go back to bed under a cloud of heavy heaviness. I might also have to treat myself to that piece of overpriced(?) furniture in order to reward myself for the invisible bills. I was a lot happier after speaking to Clare in Habitat White City just now, I need a frigging piece of furniture because there is stuff all over my floor, and what the hell is money anyway. He was saying the other day, I didn't get it, that most money is fake, a kind of projection, and that the good stuff is pure gold. The rest is just symbols? I didn't get it but either way I don't like it.
I'm here again on my day off, not making sense of anything, not doing a plan, not doing. I have a week full of fun, dancing and dinners, but am aware I need to hang something a little extra from these bones. I want to go on a pre-ballet cafe tour, but this again in itself is another activity which is non-conducive to the production of something. The something being, story ideas, thinking about work, etc. Which was already hard but has been made harder by the disappearance of a desk. I think we are back to the furniture conundrum.