Sunday, 3 July 2011


Good days and fine line moments where I have to stop and regroup. Doing less is more. More gets done that way. A restless night on the 30th up until 5am. But otherwise, sleep comes. Staying close to home. Making home into a papanest. Into a palace where I know where everything is. The sewing kit in an old fashioned Singer tin. The tools in a silver box out of reach of thieves. Boards cut up for mosaics. A pleasant worker stopped by today and noticed my art. A conversation. Not just taking pills. A big rotation. Never see the same person twice though there are 14 on the team so soon, someone will come back around. I spoke to the people last time also about my scene on the beach getting Ben's ball out of the river. How a few people applauded and laughed. Then a panic attack. Panic attacks just because strangers might smile at me. It throws me off. Thrown off again today at the service. A deep sweltering sadness. Then moments of clarity and activity. It will take time. A letter of apology to clear the air between me and someone who ignored me and it irked me. I sit on it rather than sending it. I clear my own air. Gone. Much easier to pass. Mum laughing about "Pape and daught" with Taesi and Ann up at a supper club in South Beloit. She is happy, relaxing again, back at home. And now, when we talk, it is much easier for her to picture where I am or what I am doing. That is the gold of her visit. It is real now. Not just pictureless words about where I went or what I did. Her advice is to do less and worry about myself a bit. Treat myself better...have a beer, go out, do some shopping, take some time off, have a bath, put on some makeup, dress up, dress down, chill out. The doctor's advice and hers.
Chicken .....Palace. Road near Elephant. Chicken and Palace are a strange compliment. Chicken Cottage is my local crispy shack. There's chicken shack too. But there is no chicken hotel...chicken motel, chicken river, Not that I'm about to go into the fast food business. There is a distinct lack of fast good food in Holborn. Then again,  there is Itsu sushi and it suffices. I thought I'd lost my camera again. But I haven't. My both zips were open on my bike bag  and I think perhaps a library card and perhaps a credit card are gone. Some thing is missing. Someone is missing too. Hopefully he will be back soon.
A few hours cycling this evening. A mishap. Thought I had dinner party tonight in soho in chinatown, but it is next Sunday. I am off by a week. It is July. I need an Iphone, a new number, and then I can send out the party invitations. Two cakes. Order the cakes. Got the booze. Got the cooler. Need some ham and some crackers and rope for tug of war and the magician...he better call. I meant it. I want a man with chemically altered red hair to perform at my son's party. Yeah. And Saturday, our routine...the cinema, Gulliver, a friendly mum called Priscilla, shopping, a pencil holder, a new datebook, and Queen's Square, a leaflet about boyscouts, a spiritual healing session, a calvin klein boy's shirt stripes like paul smith...some bling. the bling babe. and so a busy day that was ...and yahoo....I've won the tardis playset....for something under 30 pounds when it is 70 in the doc who shop. a win. cutting bamboo for jewelry holiday. cutting up boards for mosaics. drinking more beer. Anchor Steam is agreeable. Henney's cider is agreeable. Leffe is agreeable. Sam Smith reserve cider...agreeable. Prefering white beers, dry ciders, and thicker ales. Watched the bike boys at southbank on the way home and meant to do some beach combing, but not the night for it. 

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