Sort of the same as yesterday, but without the shopping centre. But with the dental hygienist. The hygienist chats and asks questions, but I’m not finding it easy to answer. Still, more pleasant than just lying there being scraped. I make an appointment for September, which is quite scary, actually. Kind of when i saw the first calendars with 2000 on them (this would be about five years ahead, so 1995) and felt the future looming at me.
And then down to work for the rest of the day. And the evening. Apart from the bit where I make dinner.
That’s it, really.
Spend the day rebuilding old books – making new InDesign files that can be used to reprint from. The first few hours of this is basic orientation: finding out where I am and, by extension, where everything else is.
Go to the shopping centre to buy a couple of things, then back to work.
H gets home. Interesting new donburi variant for dinner.
Not an exciting day, not really, no.
Up, miraculously, at 6:00. Sitting, etc. After H goes to work, I hang a couple of pictures, then spend a lot of time dithering, which somehow takes the edge off my earlier industry.
Into Walker in the afternoon. There until 21:20 doing corrections, but hopefully that will be it for a couple of weeks.
Home, dinner, find Van Der Graaf Generator video on YouTube, doodling in Illustrator.
Spend some time cleaning shelves. I really should do this more often – take the books off, vacuum them, put them back. Even though nothing’s moved, everything looks shiny.
Out, walk up to London Graphic Centre to get a clip-frame for the 2003 Mendoza tour poster and some picture-hanging paraphernalia. The town is full of people, many of whom are wearing those medals they give successful Marathon contestants. In fact, most of them are spilling out of pubs onto the street. Walk home.
Once I’ve got home and snacked somewhat, pick up CDs for Lucho from Elisa N, then, after dinner, wander round to the Stage Door to watch some of the open mic. I lurk in the background with beer. It’s cosier than it was last time I visited, partly due to changing some of the furniture around, partly due to a change of management (open mic, not pub).
Home. Frame picture. Bed.
Amazing weather, at least in the morning.
Into Walker for a meeting. Quite like meetings, although they leave me with a list of Things To Do, which will have to wait until Wednesday. Ho hum.
Home, move some things around, deliver boxes and take more stuff to the dump.
I buy a new app for my phone to track my exercise, which means that I need to go for a run. It’s astonishingly sad that the most reliable way to motivate me to do something is to buy a new bit of software to do it with. Which sort of explains why I never got very much done before I had a computer.
Also begin to work out a fantasy running order for a Passport Sessions compilation. Fantasy, because it would depend on the agreement of all the participants and I can’t see all of them agreeing, but I may be wrong. Sounds surprisingly good, considering the panic conditions that many of them were recorded under.
A day mostly involving moving things from one place to another. At 10:00, I find I’ve been doing it wrong and everything’s postponed until Tuesday, which is annoying, but will allow us to do everything again, but right.
One thing I move is the plant by the kitchen window, to the bathroom window, where there might be a lot more ambient water, and there’s certainly a lot more ambient light. Let’s see how that goes.
Strangely unhelpful day, spent trying to move things around in the flat to not much avail.
In the evening to the Barbican to see Laurie Anderson – the Barbican is a 70s throwback, and strangely uncomfortable – end up sitting on sofas in corridors, trying to balance a cup of coffee and a plate. Not really designed to have people in, more designed to be looked at in photographs or (ideally) architects visualisations. And everything seems to be very expensive, but perhaps that’s cultural centres everywhere.
Laurie Anderson is fab, though. Delusion is a wonderful, meditative show about forms of Avidya and (particularly) death. The best bits are monologues she performs, accompanying herself on the violin, which is echoed and doubled until it’s almost symphonic, with affecting little musical lines punctuating her words.
Home, chips. Bed.
In the morning sorting out the cupboard in the bedroom, or what would be a cupboard if I hadn’t just filled it with stuff and forgotten about it. Then variously to the dump and the store with items from said cupboard.
Several things dumped that I’d not thought about in five years, let alone touched. So why didn’t I dump them five years ago.
Home, shower, up to Tate Members room for meeting with Viv and Alexis re hamsters + cats stillies (on account of the fact that they don’t move, not really). Good meeting eventually, with what amounts to plan of action.
Chat to Viv walking along Thames in fine spring sunshine, then home, dinner, and diverse but not notable activities.
The day had… It had a strange dream at the beginning, I know that. I don’t remember much other than that it was strange. Then it had supermarket, followed by breakfast, cleaning the bathroom, and then divers stuff, some photo uploading, lunch… um… dinner, somewhere. It felt not unproductive, but now I come to think about it. I did clean the top of the window frame in the bathroom, where the blind used to be. That felt good.
Up at 6:00. to Waterloo Station and to Dorset.
On the train I’m in the same carriage as two (after Basingstoke four), gentlemen who’ve spent the night clubbing. During the two hours they’re on the train, they buy and consume three shorts (two vodkas and a gin), and appear to be going off to spend the day drinking in the sun. And then to party again.
I notice some things: The assimilation of negative indicators as superlatives continues apace: A DJ is described as “ruining” the room; the club was “hideous”. These are good things; The many descriptions they give over the phone of the night I find curiously unengaging – lots of jargon and superlatives, no reasons given why the night was so enjoyable – the language is simultaneously colourful and flat – essentially a bunch of nouns and a large number of synonyms for “good”; One particularly interesting detail – constant references to being “kicked out” – so leaving the club was being kicked out, getting off the train was being kicked off, but at the same time this also referred to actually being ejected from a train, so there seemed to be no differentiation between willingly or unwillingly leaving somewhere – it was all being kicked out. I resolve to observe without judging and fail, judging all over the place.
Arrive in Sherborne and get a lift to Annes. Bennett Day, including a bunch of work in the garden – I wear myself out in the first half an hour stacking wood, and then find that in the rest of the time, I’m supposed to be digging holes. Not a success.
Lovely lunch as usual, fascinating exchange of ideas .
Train home, pick up fish and chips. New Dr Who not initially working, but we get to see it after watching Quatermass 2. Newer Who is great stuff.