Thursday, 6 May 2010
Got an answerphone message from that absurdly enthusiastic woman at OxCare this morning. Must remember to call her back. Pretty quick response to an interview. I guess I'm either really fantastic or they're really desperate... Just hope my colleagues aren't as window licking mad as the residents.
A kid threw a lolly at me when I was on my way to the bank this afternoon as well. Will go to the bank tomorrow. With clean hair. It seems, perhaps, the only way to maintain dignity is to stay in bed all day. Or perhaps, in death. Insulting the dead is very much frowned upon. I'm seeing Sue tomorrow perhaps I'll tell her about the lolly incident, I'm sure she'll be very concerned. I hope she doesn't want me to show her this diary. Also got asked to show ID when trying to buy a pot of PVA earlier. I only wanted to make Jamille a bloody birthday card. But it made me wonder when being asked for ID will start to feel good... Still don't feel old enough to be complimented by that sort of thing.
No. of good things to happen today: 1
No. of bad things to happen today: ...... 1
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Valium took a while to kick in last night so I stared at the ceiling thinking about Googl’ing ‘effective suicide techniques’ (who is making these websites?) but in the end I couldn’t be bothered to commit suicide so I rolled over and eventually got some sleep. The interview was a breeze as far as I can recall. Had Liam all afternoon – he was being a right little bugger; think Josh has been spoiling him. Or probably Jailbait-Jenny. Must have words. Pretty crap day all in all, but Mondays always are, aren’t they? Tomorrow might be better. Though I doubt it. Must remember to go to the gallery opening in town on Friday. I’m supposed to write a review. Might be fun. I’ll see if Alfie wants to come... That’s a point. Just realised Alfie hasn’t called for three days. I suppose perhaps he forgot he had a girlfriend. I forget stuff all the time. That’s feasible, right? After two years... Guess I should call him.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Nothing makes any fucking sense anymore! And it's not just the caffeine, I know that. It's not the caffeine and it's not the drinking or the occasional narcotic episode or the diet pills. What is it, diary dearest, that makes me so convinced that some shining fraction of genius lies dormant, embedded in all these layers of fat and idiocy? Such a flaming contrast of arrogance and self loathing... oh how fashionable, how bland, how mediocre. Summer's almost here and the blob remains. Best up the dose. I've an interview tomorrow. Early night, I think. Maybe a Valium, it's Sunday night after all. Rested body, rested mind. Lest we remember the rest, mind.