Thursday

home.

i was at home, lovely home. while out walking over alstonefield way on sunday, i happened to mention the plight of millions of our fellow countryfolk as they had attempted to buy tickets for the glastonbury festivale this morning. Shell thought it 'sad' that people of her age would still want to do things 'for young people' so that they could 'pretend they weren't old.' i said, well that might not be true for everyone. just because your tastes have changed as you have grown older, doesn't mean everyone else's should. laurence's parents would be my prime example, although i didn't bring them up. she tried to counter with, well it's all marketing isn't it? regain your youth by spending lots of money on our product; but i slapped it right back with, well that may be the case for some situations, but you can't generalise it to all cases, and anyway, aren't you as bad as the marketers who say 'don't grow up' to everyone, by saying 'grow up' to everyone? you're being exactly as absolutist in your views.

she agreed.
and then said, "yeah, but if you and danny were in a coffee shop in brighton and you a text from me saying i was in glastonbury, you'd just think that was a bit sad wouldn't you?"
thus getting around my superior argument by defeating the point of discussion itself. a highly commendable tactic.

shell, my mother, hitchhiked to the isle of wight festival. she attended the first glastonbury. she was a lot more 'rebellious' as a teenager than i've ever been. i wonder how she feels as she looks back on those days?

i saw some great telly at home. have you seen 'the contender'? it's ultimate t.v.. presented by 'sly' stallone, it's a reality-docu-drama about two teams of boxers (east and west sides) as they train (with the aid of 'sugar' ray) and clash their egos. they're not confined to the gym, so we get scenes of them at home with their children, teaching them to fight, or crashing out exhausted in the chair, needing eomtional support from the girlfriend - footage of which is cut up with the same people as talking heads, commentating on the experiance, backed up with swelling orchestral music.
in one scene, they are all taken out to get fitted suits. one man has never had his own suit before. 'god bless america', he weeps.
the whole show stinks of a fix.

before i left for brighton, i ransacked my room for diaries and photos. on the train i read through 2002 and 2003 - some quite dark moments on the whole, collapsing into two months of radio silence in nov and dec 2002. but while the fog of nostalgia held me wanting the lost time back for a little while, soon i found that i was glad it was all in the past, and felt more than ever that it really was in the past, and things were different now.
anyway, i just wanted to illustrate one classic week for you, complete and uncensored (or improved):

tuesday, 7th may 2002
(hammell on trial gig ticket affixed)
crazy. met ann at krobar. she's wearing a very short denim skirt, and big kick ass boots. drink and eat, and drink and smoke in the venue and touchy, but i'm just so scared and monged and i want to dance but dreams/reality confused. but now i know, that's what it is - pure terror. i'm just terrified of what might happen, which is rediculous but true wanking is just so reliable. i think i actually do have feelings for her (which would be handy)

thursday, 9th
IM EMPTY AND HORRID AND NOTHING



(saw hedwig and the angry inch, was great)

friday, 10th
once you have dreamed kissing and making love to a person, how do you face the reality that they haven't experianced it? end up working briefly. see 100 reasons + support w/ steve and paul; wierd.

saturday, 11th
can't believe she asked me round to her house this night and i said no. is it that exactly what i wanted?

ann was a collegue (from michigan, U.S.A.) that i often wrestled with myself over (*mentally*), because she was genuinely attractive, so i hated myself for being attracted to her.
"it's what i have to work with."
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