birthday line ·
29 August 04

I think the day started off well enough. I had to get ready for tonights drinking, shower, and pack my bag, while at the same time trying to clear my room of the accumulated books and DVDs that had formed over the months.

Most of the morning was spent filling boxes with CDs, DVDs, Gamecube games, and the shit load of books. I must have filled about four or five boxes, and then I was asked to call the installation guy to see if he was visiting. I called and it turned out it was too much late notice.

This pissed me off, as it confirmed once more than my parents (step or biological) are absolutely fucking retarded. I wish I didn’t have brains, because then it wouldn’t affect me as much. Whether I have brains is questionable in itself, as many doctors, and specialist that end with the words “ist” have attested, I seem absolutely fine when it’s what they want to hear, of course they can’t confirm that I actually exist.

I had no room in my record bag for my bottle of water. Since I moved to London, I have always avoided at every turn to drink tap water, even though it’s considered safe, and even better. This stemmed from biology class when I used to go school “Up North”, and we were doing some sort of experiment, and began talking about London for whatever reason.

Mrs Webster (her new name, having changed it three of four times over the course I was studying in her class, perhaps indicating she had more dick than she had classes to teach) was a weird woman. She and I had this pretty mutual attitude, with me being the trouble maker and try to set everyone on fire with the Bunsen burners, and she giving me detention and realising that I was a fucking nuisance, but intelligent. This came to a head when I got the highest mark in the class, missing the 100% mark by 1%, and as I shouted in class, “Fuck you all, you’re all morons” , she screams at me to “Shut the hell up and sit down”.

On this particular day, the conversation of London was overheard by her, and it just so happened that we were doing some sort of experiment involving water and life in water. It was a biology lesson after all. She came over and said,

“Well, don’t say this outside of class or to anyone who lives there, but the water that people drink from their taps is recycled waste water, full of germs, and shit that you flush down everyday.”

I don’t know if we were more surprised at her comments and insult at someone else (she always maintained that equality and respect were above anything) or the fact that she used the word “shit” in class. She was actually one of the more liberal teachers I guess. She let us watch films which were certified 15 or 18 when we were 11, and she let us watch it in class. I think we watched Terminator, Ghost, and some other crap.

When I told our Maths teacher why he wouldn’t let us do the same in his class, he looked at us with a sort look that can only be described as shocking as being told your wife’s a lesbian. It was just one of pure shock, and he commented,

“She shouldn’t be doing things like that. You kids are too young to be watching violent films.”

“But Sir, Verhoeven’s Robocop is an 18, I know it’s violent, but it’s wicked”

His face changed from shock to reality, remembering he was talking to someone that paid no heed to conservative neurotics, nor had any interest in rules as such. To say my reputation as the one to tie down to the floor, in case the other kids see me and follow my lead, would be a vast understatement.

Tell Paul I’m leaving. It’s 8 in the morn and I go home. It was good to see Paul, sometimes good to see him alone, away from the idiots, perhaps the most intelligent and level headed out of them all.

So, with that tangent, comes the fact that I always carried a bottle of water with me. Everytime I went out, went to college, went to school, went to see friends; if I went out with my bag, my bag would have a 1.5 or 2 litre bottle of water. Eventually it became habit, and people assumed I drank it because I was health conscious. My health was about as far from my mind as wanting to study from teachers; about as far we are from the next galaxy.

It was fully packed with things for him. Books I had bought him, books I would lend him, something I bought from Holland for him, a bottle of wine from Germany I got him, and some DVDs. Most of this stuff I should have given him when I saw him earlier, but I just kept forgetting or not bothering. So I thought I would flood the poor guy with crap, and hope he could swim out of it.

I only had enough room for my own book, which I needed to read to kill the journey boredom. My MP3 player was in desperate need of attention, something which I haven’t lamented upon it since it fucked up. I hate electronic items, but it’s a part of luxury life. I dunno it’s all pretty boring isn’t it?

Paul sent me a text to say he was already in the pub and to drop my gear off at his house. I did so, said hello to his dad, who strikes me as creepy. He’s been at the end of many jokes about psychotic pervs. He isn’t, but Paul and I joke about it sometimes. I got to the pub, and met with Paul, and the others. The birthday girl wasn’t there, but the birthday boy of last week was. I took my cash card off him, he told me he borrowed £50, and I told him I owe him £20. We called it £30 and he went to get me a pint, while I went to the bank to get some cash and smokes from the shop.

The atmosphere was pleasant enough, I didn’t hate monkey that day. It felt weird. I don’t hate him, I just think he makes people hate him. He must have changed his aftershave. I just don’t fit in with the whole “young” gang thing. You know they’re young when they decide to fit themselves and every other friend into a booth designed to seat four people when there’s a fucking King Arthur round table at the far end of the fucking pub.

[zz93

Or there is a fucking garden WITH MORE SPACE. That alone pissed me the fuck off. I want to stand on the table, and throw very sharp objects from a height, because it was just as intelligent as the decision they had made.

We smoked and drank a lot, and by which time more and more people started to appear. It was getting boring, much like this write up, so here is the rest of it in brief. Over all it was a good weekend, it was just filled with strangeness.

Still at the pub, awaiting Maria’s arrival. The rain outside, I stand out for a smoke and it’s pissing down. Gemma, Paul and Jon follow to join me. It’s gorgeous. I love rain. The return to the pub. The drugs we took in the cubicle. Jon’s head over the cubicle. The “this is the police open up” line. Freaked Paul and me out, as he’s cutting and preparing to snort. Fucking twathead pops over. Others know we’re doing a line, so we get the job done. Fucking dumb ass Jon. Still he made us laugh and it was more fun than anything happening downstairs. It was quite hysterical in fact.

Leaving to go Horse and Groom, another pub. Talking to Maria. Not remembering much just fragments. Everyone in Horse and Groom, tried Zinc bar, cost was 7 quid for a shitty place with no people and expensive drinks.

I disappeared, spoke to various strangers, spoke to a homeless guy. Gave smokes and some money. Went back to the pub, left again. Went back in, shout out for me. Asked if I got lucky, devil sign and shouted “yeah!” It was Karaoke night.

Was getting bored, not really having fun. too loud, too noisy, not really a place to chat or chill out. Paul wants to go, I concur, we get ready to leave. Shit happens between Paul and charlie. Charlie pissed off. Maria drunk. Me and Paul disappear, because everyone’s behaving like a 10 year old.

Maria and Paul Chat somewhere with Tom. All sorts of weird shit. They call me over, I see Maria with her shoes off, with Paul and Tom, I can only guess what the fuck is going on. Don’t want to fucking know. I fuck off; fucking kids.

Me and Paul have had enough and disappear, Charlie in tears? Maria in tears? Fuck knows, pissed me off, ruined an ok night, too many assholes, egos & attitudes. Take a few lines and watch Old Boy. Paul loves it, but has questions like everyone else who watched it. Dark film. Stunning too.

She and I had this pretty mutual attitude, with me being the trouble maker and try to set everyone on fire with the Bunsen burners, and she giving me detention and realising that I was a fucking nuisance, but intelligent.

Paul sleeps. I can’t. Weird lucid dreams about the blade master who I meet down every street. Many other lucid dreams, such as the one where I am chased by the guy with a the Gatling gun, I get to the top of a room, and find a tricycle. I get on the tricycle and exit through a ramp, riding while avoiding innocent people. Dream disappears and tracks to two people talking about the flavour of the moon.

I go down stairs after his parents leave for the football match. I start to type this. Jon comes knocking, Paul wakes up so we all have tea and biscuits. I never make the tea once. I’m a bitch. Not sure what to do. Decide to get some pizza. Don’t.

Go to Paul’s room for a bit, then come back down to watch Jack Dee DVD. Parent’s back, we leave the room, get some KFC and decide to go to pub and avoid going cinema to watch the Village with the others. People love shit films, I don’t. Get some coke, go back to Paul’s. Take some lines, watch TV play games, have long conversations about women, some side jokes, about friends, the usual stuff.

I’m more interested in the demos on the Amiga than chatting. Need a bigger screen, one that wraps around your head completely, with massive loud speakers. Stunning shit. Gorgeous, smart, incredible. Waiting for Paul’s dad to come back upstairs so we can go downstairs to watch films I brought. His dad is watching Crystal Palace highlights after going to the match itself and is also recording the highlights. The chat is good though, what are the limits of our own sexual deviancy? Finger in arse apparently. Not sure I’d go for that myself. But whatever works.

Watched Intacto, liked it. Dark Water, liked it. Third film, Nine Queens, they couldn’t handle a third film, had lots of coke by now. nearly 24 or 25 lines. I;m the only one super wide awake. Watching the film while the other two sleep. Both with hands down their pants. Makes me laugh. More tea, more biscuits during the whole thing.

Jon, what an arse sometimes. Kept talking through the films, making bad jokes at bad times. Paul and I look at each other thinking, “Does he ever shut up?”. It’s the coke, it’s very obviously the coke. Reminds me of Jordan in a way, he gets all hyper and never stops talking. It’s acceptable in doses, but not like this. I subtly tell Jon to shut up. He tries to predict everything and keeps getting it wrong. Paul says “I’m not sleeping, just closing my eyes.” Jon sits adjacent to me, both hands down his trousers, eyes closed, snoring. Paul similar. I just watch the film, take a line and smoke a lot.

They both wake up, Jon watches the last half of film and likes it, tries to explain it to Paul like a limp chimp. Can’t get the words out. He knows Paul slept before watching it, so I wonder why he’s explaining everything. Quite funny.

We talk about the porn movie idea, who we want in there and what to do. John has to leave, so me and Paul go upstairs. Have a one to one about this and that. It’s good, but I need to do something as well, so does he. We both have energy, me more so I guess. Not slept since Thursday now.

Can’t sleep. I have so many thoughts in my head, and I feel empty. Tell Paul I’m leaving. It’s 8 in the morn and I go home. It was good to see Paul, sometimes good to see him alone, away from the idiots, perhaps the most intelligent and level headed out of them all. Mind you, he’s a fucking gramps to most, a gramps with a popular penis. So why do I feel he;s younger than me when he’s not? Mindset. Perhaps. Dunno. Don’t care, momentary random thought.

Feeling good on the train, think about the nights previous. Charlie’s immaturity pisses me off. Possible scenarios on how I would tell her to grow up ensue. Head is hurting, I’m feeling angry. Start wondering about who else pisses off my friends, who else can I tell to fuck off or grow up. The wall of protection around begins to come loose brick by single brick. I can see the bastards outside the wall waiting to tear me apart. What’s happening to me? Going nuts. Would I die for my friends? How far would I go?

Start hating everyone and everything. I can’t read, my mind is so full of everything, my body is living and breathing the world. Need to talk, or to write or to cause pain to someone or something. It’s weird. Need a smoke, need some coke? Don’t need coke, won’t make any difference this time. I need separation from myself. I need to exit myself, be someone else for a day. Live someone else’s life.

I get home desperate in pain. Have to write something, do so, it’s painful, exhausting and fucking nightmare.

Killer weekend. A bit odd, but enjoyed it.