Sunday, November 12, 2006

I awaken upside down in my bed, full clothed and feeling rotten. The time is 6.30 and I guess at some point I probably got up and switched off some electrical appliances. This should be the result of waking up from some heroic/legendary bender but instead this is just the result of sloth/lethargy. I look at my computer screen and there is some kind of message on my Skype page, finally someone is trying to get in touch! I attempt to regain contact and it is a girl called “Tracey” from China of undisclosed age (but obviously younger than me). After her initial reach out, she no longer seems interested in a Skype conversation but instead we exchange sweet nothings by keyboard. She tells me her English “isn’t very good” but it actually is; however it causes our conversing to be slow, long and excruciating.

During this spell I decide to check out the Aaron Russo documentary America: From Freedom To Fascism. It’s very interesting and detailed but I really am not sure how serious to take this latest batch/bout of paranoid New World Order bleatings. Russo seems a bit of a black sheep where Hollywood is concerned and is perhaps just another Alex Jones. To the movie’s credit however, there is little mention of 9/11 and none of those conspiracy theories attached to those events. There is a pretty shocking (ho ho) scene of a woman being tazered by the police while being dragged out of her car. Ultimately though, I probably wasted two hours of my life on film.

I head out to buy The Observer with the Music Monthly magazine and outside it is yet another sunny and not cold day, weather that really should not be experienced at this time of year.

At 11AM I find myself respecting the Remembrance Day moment of silence, watching all the colours of the rainbow of the British army observing the moment also. The Queen looks pained and old as ever.

I spend the remainder of my time at home actually beginning the big, futile tidy and clear out of Bohemian Grove. For some reason I seem to enjoy keeping (no, archiving) newspapers (well, The Metro, The Sun and London Lite). I throw all those fuckers in a bin bag, this after discovering an existing bin bag with very old bananas in the bottom emitting a sharp, acidic, poison odour.

Around 1PM I head out for my usual trip to the parents for dinner and football on Sky in order to prevent me from staying in my flat and heading down the mental misery spiral (lol). As I leave I bump into my neighbour cleaning his car. I would like to have avoided this meeting but we chat (myself really labouring) and I just feel on a different planet to him or rather several years younger and less developed. For some reason I find myself swearing a lot in casual conversation, like I need to be emphasising and bigging up the things that I am saying. Ultimately I feel it only serves to belittle myself and cause me to demean. Also it acknowledges that I over analyse everything.

Arrival at home is met with the Reading v Spurs game already in progress. I put on a face/front for my parents and hope that they are ok. This place really is my haven, it may not necessary be a home for me but it is an environment I feel safe in. The Reading-Spurs game ends 3-1 in something of a surprise, especially after last week’s great Tottenham result.

Mum serves up pork chops for lunch and these are my first cooked solids in days, I really appreciate the attention and effort. Unfortunately about an hour later they promptly shoot through me liquidated.

The second game (after the fun Weymouth non-league game) is Arsenal vs Liverpool. Arsenal thump Liverpool. Arsenal looked good last week against West Ham with some sweet, short, sharp, fast passing and this week these moves generate goals. Arsenal win 3-0 and it could so easily have been 4-0 plus with Liverpool being reduced to ten men on more than one occasion.

It is well into the afternoon when I remember that I should have been going to the Arctic Circle event in Notting Hill today. I probably didn’t go because of the same reasons I didn’t head out last night but still, it should have really registered a little more on my consciousness than it does.

I leave my parents’ with Real Madrid beating Osasuna 4-1, with Van Nistelrooy scoring all four goals and David Beckham sheepishly trotting on for the final seven minutes.

I get home for my Sunday evening in the dark. Much like Friday afternoon’s, I half expect Sunday evenings will one day finish me off. And not least for the fact that tonight that Channel Four is persisting in showing the next part of the Lord Of The Rings trilogy.

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