Saturday, 27 November 2010


Perhaps it would seem awfully indulgent and somewhat wasteful to sit in bed all of Saturday. I have been here since the sun came up over there, and will stay until it completes its low winter arc over there. Ten hours sleep wasn't enough, so I have stayed here through three rounds of snacks and hot drinks, and I still am not bored. I decided as soon as I am bored (read dissatisfied, edgy), this must mean my normal level of consciousness is restored, and I am no longer ill. As it is, I am trying to shift the glitch so I can go dancing tonight.

Always so much pressure to perform on a spare Saturday. When 3 miles away in the metropolis, the minions are at work under heavy crowds and shouts, mounting our performance rites, twists turns, sorrys, yes it's too early to buy it for Christmas, there's nine people waiting do you want to wait, when the minions are at work and one is not, well, there is usually a feeling of utter redundancy. Not today. I learnt of the Ministry of Stories at the same time as reading it, I watched The Beauty of Diagrams, I pictured cinnamon pear cake, thought saving is a waste and spent time researching boat living. I scribbled and thought and basked, because overachieving is overrated. Like he said yesterday, 'not pursing a career (anything) at the moment' didn't used to be a bad thing.

I know I have lost the art of contentment. It takes foreignness to jolt this into me. With such a bombardment of options and choice, it becomes difficult to know what one truly wants. London is heavy, I saw it when I left the station on Thursday, when I clock-watched yesterday to Big Ben over the river in the afternoon's arc. The denseness becomes a metaphor for the affects on a person. I love leaving, because I love the comparison on return. London is not a pretty city, at least not to my pocket. I am not allowed historical steeping, a visual warmth, you would never say the east is good-looking. There is something to be said about the visual not being something that needs blocking out. Whilst I live in the best British city for me right now, it's not necessarily the best city.

I didn't intend to miss the second day of the Tino Seghal workshop. I wasn't sad to miss it, only to deprive another of the chance. Had I felt itchy last night I would've given up my place there and then, but the ills came on quite sudden. Almost a year to the day, bizarrely. It has got very cold. Hibernating shouldn't be a guilty thing. That word came up, the Danish one, this time in Dutch. From the German Gemütlichkeit, comes the idea of 'cosiness' not just as an adjective, but as a verb. Being. Belonging, social warmth, and the key one, quality time. I am all about the Gemütlichkeit from now on. I wrote a list in Le Pain Quotidien at St Pancras, in the last half hour of my holiday. I like to think a trip incites learned moments, maybe 'being busy' is not at the top of that list.

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