Diary entry
Today I had three hours of Teresa from rethink come and sit down while I clean up. My flat is looking a little better now, all the grime is gone and its tidy. There is still set in dirt that may take a while to remove. Earlier today I took the bicycle that my next door neighbour sort of gave me (I said I’d give him some money when I had it fixed) up forestreet and dropped it to my friend Justin. He volunteers at an Nhs project where people with different problems fix bicycles and sell them on cheaply. My bicycle should be ready for me next week. Thora Birch has still been resonating in my visions in the day, earlier I was imagining watching Peppa pig with her dad in a posh country house, drinking red wine. While she cooked a roast dinner for us with her mother in the kitchen. There is more besides, although I am trying to be more appropriate. I do not even know what Thora Birch looks like anymore. I was in the cinema earlier and a voice in my head said she was Thora Birch and she was sat somewhere in the audience. This frightened me quite a bit, it would be extremely embarrassing. The film I went to see was called “The butler” which was an elegantly filmed and put together history lesson about the oppression of african-american people. I went to see the film as I feel that I too have been oppressed. I was not going to see the one with Cloony in space because it was in 3D which sometimes makes my eyes go funny. I may see the one part written by Allan Partridge tomorrow as it has some molested nuns in it or something. I was quite displeased with myself for impulsively laughing in some bad moments in the film 1. When loads of people on a freedom bus were stopped by the Klu Klux Klan and there were dead bodies after the action 2. When the activist dudes mum said something rude to him and slammed the phone down and 3. At the end someone died in the film and in my head the words came in a sarcastic voice and said “awww someone has died at the end to make it extra sad”. This is the way I am, I do not, and have never had anything personal against dead people “or the mortally challenged”. I felt a bit clever cos I got ten minutes into the film that the main character was in some way a more peaceful, patient and wise form of activist, and this is in some way just as or more sacred than the younger lad causing all the trouble to get his point across. Although given the scenario this is also understandable. This was made clearer later on in the movie. On the way home I walked behind two young lads who looked like they may be a gay couple and the words “aids, aids, rape, rape” kept going round and round in my head until I got home. This is the type of thing I might vocalise if I do not get enough sleep, especially if I drink alcohol too. Although I was tempted I am glad I did not set out to go to the rock night that might not be on this week. In the morning I would be like a dry smoke-filled zombie but instead I will feel a bit cosy and knackered, healthy lifestyle! I will not go for a long walk tonight, maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow I have the mass responsibility of taking my second cousin to nursery so I have to be up really early, I really hope I can get to sleep tonight, it was so much easier with a girl in my arms. Although she turned out to be mean. One nice memory I have of her is making her gush in a buttercup field while people were walking past not so far away with their family’s and things, along with my first kiss (both at the age of six in a large garden on a thatched house next to an old oak tree-with tounges) these are quite poetic and fond memories, it’s just a shame she was such a bitch and drove me fucking nuts. Oh well, life goes on.
