I had the best dream this morning. It was an astonishing combination of all the areas of my current life. I know only very dull people talk about their dreams, and generally the dream is only interesting to the person who had them, but I mainly write this journal for myself so here goes. And I loved hearing Skye's dream about kittens being present during surgery that may or may not have been fake (he was a secret agent trying to uncover a rogue body of Chinese surgeons or sommat).

I was away somewhere working on a BBC shoot with someone I hadn't met before - so like several jobs I've done with the beeb recently. We were in some hotel and I had some spare time so I was just kinda wandering around the hotel, and I bumped into a guy I had apparently been dating. He kinda looked like a combination between Jody and bizarrely Jamie Silk, an guy I drunkenly slept with a bout a year ago. He was hosting a R4 show (I had this dream during a morning snooze with the radio on...Evan Davis was drifting into my ear as I slept). And was naked for some reason. And very tall. I went to return to my hotel room with him, but wanted this other guy short skinny guy I had been eying up in the lobby to come with us and join in, but it obv didn't work out because I was then back at my room alone. this is the bit I remember most clearly. And my favourite bit. The lady - my colleague - was lying face down on the bed. I turned her over and she wasn't actually my colleague, but a man dressed in her clothes with lots of make up and a wig on. This is clearly where my job as a text jockey, chatting to TVs all day and reacting enthusiastically to their pictures, comes in. I said "who are you" and she said her name and looked at me incredulously and I suddenly felt I had just merely not recognised my colleague and felt all flustered. She then ran to the door and pinned herself against the wall next to the door, so as to hide behind the door when it opened. She gestured me to hide also, and reluctantly did under an orange blanket in the corner. I suddenly felt very scared, thinking this must be real. When the door opened and men with handguns came in I felt terrified. The woman stepped very calmly out and faced them rather stoically. They shot her. But rather didn't. I didn't hear a sound, not even the quit hiss of a silenced weapon. I felt I was in some kind of act, but didn't quite know my role. but instead of running away or asking questions I decided to play along. They discovered me in my corner and a guy raised a machine gun and "fired" I played at being shot, like the guys do in action movies. One of the bad guys sighed n rubbed his head then gestured to me. i went over and he gave me a piece of paper which said I wasn't meant to react in such a dumb way. I had meant to act like the other lady. They were making a movie or something, some arthouse fair, and i hadn't even known what was going on. I wasn't cool enough and i hadn't got it. All very embarrassing. This last scene is then a mix of crossdressing, Vertigo (her suit was the one Madeline wears in Vertigo, and the identity confusion issue is obviously related to this movie - and I sleep beneath a poster for the movie!!), Alias (a TV show I'm bloody loving right now) and ongoing insecurity issues. ah the human mind!

I'm back in hospital now doing my third out of four periods of this clinical trail I'm doing. I miraculously skipped the second period...someone got sick so they canceled it whilst they figured out the dosage, yet I still got paid! I enjoyed a few days off! I had been working so hard, chopping between the beeb, text jockeying, the cinema and flyering. I've been doing quite a few text jockey shifts this past week which sometimes I enjoy because of the sheer weirdness of it all, and sometimes find quite soul destroying. I've devloped quite a crush on a colleague which feels nice. Its not a desperately painful love, or an intense lust we just get on and have this little moments of electricity that excite me. I almost kissed him on saturday at Pride, but am glad I didn't. Not because it wouldn't have been reciprocated (drunken flirty texts later revealed we had both wanted to make a move) but because it somehow feels nicer to remain in this sparky flirty place. Things with Jody got a little too boyfriendy and I got worried I was causing him worry because he seemed super into me, but I'm not really able to be the kinda guy he deserves right now, being so busy in thes eweeks running up to my travels. so last night I semi broke up with him...he is really emotionally intelligent and intuitive, so much more than me. So much more grown up. We agreed to keeps seeing each other, but approach it all in a different way. I hope I don't hurt him. Its been wonderful seeing this guy who is sincere and kind and loving, traits that I feel i have maybe undervalued in the past, and neglect cultivating them in myself. i feel the best people in life are the ones who make you wanna be a better person yourself. I did enjoy trashy old school David visiting on Saturday night though...getting trashed at an inappropriate time (the night before I had to rise at 7am the next day to do charity work) chatting to lots of people and hooking up with a super cute guy, then waking up, feeling like shit, naked with said guy, confused and headachey, some 4 hours after I had meant to be somewhere entirely different. I need to find a balance! I need these fun party times, hot sex, meeting lots of people but also I need genuine affection, deeper emotional attachments, books and films and theatre and creativity and cerebral stimulation, great times with wonderful inspiring funny and kind friends, good food, exercise and fresh air. Oh and some kind of meaningful career. Its rather a lot to squeeze in. I hope I figure out how to do that one day.

oh chuckle chuckle. Just as I was about to start writing this the bizarreness of my situation hit home. I'm getting distracted by Borat on the massive plasma screen here in the "volunteers lounge" remembering how hilarious and smart parts of it were, then getting interrupted by a nurse telling me my mobile heart monitor had stopped working. I had dropped it about 10 minutes previously which had apparently sent it offline. The nurse - a rather grating South African lady - asked if a doctor had rushed over, making out I'd been terribly naughty by causing a medical emergency. "Ha" I replied, "comforting to know that if my heart stopped they'd come rushing to my aid."

This whole set up is just so weird. Glad I survived the first dose of experimental medication! I had a bit of a tummy ache for 10 mins but that was only when I realised what I was doing about an hour after I took it. All the other volunteers are really blokey and have been dominating the sky tv by watching sports pretty non stop. Borat is a pleasant interlude. Yesterday they watched sport for NINE HOURS. Pretty much in silence. Was gobsmacked more than annoyed. I think I'm being a massive dick by presuming I'll get nothing from extended interactions with these guys. I'm quite enjoying solitude to be honest though. Its good to have options for amusement extremely narrowed. Instead of reading or watching movies half-assed I'm really focussed, without thinking I should be out doing something more "constructive." Read the whole of The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks from start to (the disappointing) finish yesterday. The caffeine detox is doing me wonders too! I went to sleep at 10 last night, kinda creeped out by the hospital surroundings, but dreaming of the big fat juicy cheque and romantic ideas of traveling across the world, without care or responsibilities.

I'm really super bloody motherfucking tired. But in quite a nice way. I'm lying on my bed in my room after 3 days in various beds that weren't mine and more importantly were hugely uncomfortable. The sun is shining and all I can see out of my window when I lie down is bright blue sky and some branches with fresh green leaves. Its been a while since I had some nice quiet time, time when I haven't felt like I shouldn't be doing something else. That is the nice side effect of this tiredness - its making me relax and do nothing, something I can be a bit shit at.

Aha too relaxed to even write a LJ entry. I'm writing about this nice quiet sunny time retrospectively. Because now I'm back in at the BBC, looking out of a very different window and not lying down - instead hunched over a keyboard contemplating a long day of logging rushes of dull Olympians. The holiday is over! 13 days without a day off ahead. Boo. But I did have a lovely weekend away that I'm thankful for. ATP, as usual, was super fun. It was very different in that the sun was shining brightly - when we've been before its been in winter or in spring during bad weather. So this time the beach was fucking glorious. Ridiculously paradisiacal. So it was often difficult to make onself watch a band indoors in a stuffy dark room that stank of B.O. But I did see a few, generally whilst really drunk I must say. Apparently I saw the whole of the Black Lips' set but I can't remember that at all! I do remember dangling upside down off a climbing frame (which felt wonderful in the 6am sunshine) then falling off onto my neck/shoulder (which didn't feel so great and still doesn't - agony!).

I did lose my phone which sucks but will endeavour to buy the cheapest shittiest one tomorrow. Poverty is here - it actually pains me to take anything out of my savings now, now that I know I'm definitely going gallavanting around the globe in a few months. Paying my last rent in London for a while this week - feels strange. So I will be technically homeless and practically jobless in a few weeks. I need to figure out the plans for the next few months. I have a few ideas but I need to get my arse into gear and get pestering people.

I passed all my tests to be able to do a medical trial in June, which will pay out loads and really help my travelling fund. That was such a huge relief actually because I had (illogically) convinced myself I had something really nasty and this would be the worst way to find out. But, pending my GP sending my records, I have the green light. They did an ECG and the doctor said I have a really strong 'muscular' heart. yay super healthy despite years of abusing my body. I'll probably be healthier afterwards as I can't smoke from now until the end of the trial - hopefully I can kick the habit for good. I will be taking a new Hepatitis C drug, which I feel good about. I hadn't even really thought about how doing this trial is actually a good thing for me to do for humanity. 170 Million people have hep C and I'll be doing my part in helping develop a new drug to help these people. Sure I'll be getting 3 grand for my time but....still....I'm a good person haha. I'M DOING IT FOR PAMMY!

Solomon came to stay! Such a whirlwind visit. I'm glad I was organised this time and whisked her away, with Toby also, to Stockholm. The weather was stunning- that bright clear sunshine that fails to warm, but succeeds in setting off this beautiful city where you are rarely far from stretches of sparkling blue water. It felt good to get out of London, and put a little something special between finishing at the BFI on Tuesday and beginning at the BBC on Monday. And traveling with friends is so wonderful- I'm so lucky I've gotten to do it two months in a row!

Ok, so, highlights I need to reflect on.

Whilst there we went on a bike ride to Skansen, an crazy open-air museum on Djurgården - the garden island as I liked to call it. It was hard to describe, but it felt to me to be the perfect national museum. The concept is that the huge site represents a tiny model of Sweden, with traditional buildings moved from all over Sweden and placed around the site, then also farm animals on mini farms, and at the top a selection of wild animals you'd find in North Sweden like Brown bears, bison and lynx. Oh then a mini town with all types of shops with people in costume selling you cinnamon buns and blowing glass. Every now and then we'd wander into beautiful little areas with no one around, walking through bluebells and marveling at how beautiful peasant dwellings were. How can painting a wooden hut red make it so bloody nice? Hmm maybe this is like how I find certain blocks of 1970s council flats stunningly beautiful. I'm not sure if its insulting in a way to rave about these dwellings for really poor people, but I guess not so much as its not like I'm romanticising their poverty or anything. I just find them aesthetically so pleasing, in the sense of their minimalism without the pretense of an expensive building that is "minimalist." The simple rectangle shapes of the wooden houses and the bright red wood stain against the bright blue sky was so exciting!




( More Stockholm pics, courtesy of Solomon )


The things that were annoying about Stockholm were the difficultly of getting booze - the only place other than bars to buy it is state run off licenses that close at 7 and in bars a pint of lager cost around £6.50 - and the lack of gays. Well not so much a lack, but it seems traditionally in Sweden they have been pretty lovely tolerant people and a gay culture like we have has never really risen. And so there isn't a scene as such, as gays just hang out in regular bars, and certain ones are known for being more gay leaning than others- but its an imprecise art. Not that I went to Sweden for boys, but its nice to have a little holiday kiss, y'know?

On the second night we were far more organised than the first, and went to the System Bolaget and bought a ton of extra strong Kopparberg and other funny drinks. Its such a weird system - all the booze is behind glass on display, and you have to go to a counter and request what you want from a lady who I assume is required by the government to look at you judgmentally. But yay we got drunk. Toby and I then went to a bar which had been recommended whilst Momma was asleep and met this beautiful boy called Jonas who for some reason decided to show us a good time and took us to several bars where he succeeded in getting us in for free (saying we were from the UK Film council wtf??) and encouraging us to pick up drinks that people had left around the bar (apparently Sweden is too wholesome to have to worry about spiking or whatnot). I took this encouragement to heart and got so wasted a bouncer suggested I leave (I was the level of drunk that is considered normal at lunchtime in London I reckon) but then did embarrass myself trying to come on to Jonas I think, then vomit and sleep in the corridor at the hostel (which wasn't that kind of hostel - signs everywhere saying "silence at 11" and "NO PARTY").

I wish Solomon's stay had been longer so we could have had some more 1-on-1 time. But I always say that whenever she comes to stay. I think I really need to go pay her a visit in Boston. It really is my turn to take the flight. I could combine this with NY and then San Fran with Charlie, a plan he seemed really into. But then I really wanna see lots more of Europe this Summer. And then maybe I should save all my money for a bigger trip. Agh this is so symptomatic of where my head is at right now. I feel so adrift. I'm still so sad about the funding issues with uni, an wish so much I could be going in September. I DON'T LIKE WORKING. Its lame. I'm not cut out for it. And thats not because I'm lazy or whatever. I just don't see why I should waste so much of my time on unimportant uninteresting things. 40 hours a week is SO much of your life.

This is tuning into an overlong entry but I need to record my illness. It is an illness that blighted the last few days that Solomon was here, from my point of view at least. I've had tonsilitis AGAIN. I struggled into the BBC for my first 2 days, feeling so rough, not sleeping well at nights (having to change clothes several times due to horrific amounts of sweating), wanting to cry constantly through pain/exhaustion. Finally I conceded yesterday and stayed at home, this decision eased by the fact that my placement pretty much sucks so far. I'm now on my second day at home, feeling the pencillin kick in and reading lots and trying to figure out my life AGAIN. At least one thing looks certain - they have finally agreed my tonsils need to be removed. Hurrah!

I saw Bjork last night. It was bloody amazing. It was such a different experience to any other concert I've been to, in the sense that I became so involved in the music, that at times I would forget where I was, I would stop thinking and it would be a completely sensory experience. The music seemed to swell around me. During Army of Me, with that bassline that kept getting louder and louder, I felt somehow transported, ecstatic. It felt wonderful to feel these non-intellectual, more primal thrills, something completely unreasoned and unprosaic. For quite a while now I've been bumbling along quite happily, quite content, with occasional little dramas that haven't in the end been too upsetting or I just haven't had the time to reflect too much on them, as I'm constantly busy and distracted. The gig reminded me of more intense feelings. It reminded me of the deep unhappiness of being a teenager in Barnsley, lying on my bed listening to Hyperballad on repeat. It reminded me of what it felt like being in love. Anthony Heggarty sang a duet with Bjork and I couldn't quite comprehend the flawless beauty of their voices, so wonderful alone, but mind-blowing when together, seeming to move around each other. They seemed to have shape and texture, to be more than just sound. Last night reminded me to seek out the more extreme parts of my thoughts and feelings - not to seek out drama or create issues and problems and upset myself, but to at least not skim along without reflecting and exploring what I am experiencing, to switch off and go on autopilot.

So LLGFF is over. I'm terribly sad its over! But at least new stuff is happening. After Tuesday the library chapter of my career will be over. I'm convinced they all hate me in the library now. I feel my name is pretty much mud there after I called in off my bloody face at lunch time telling them I couldn't come in, and the reason for this was that I was off my face. Sometimes honesty isnt the best policy. I truly blame this guy who I was with, who worked on me for hours trying to convince me it was the most logical thing to do. He also promised he'd show me the most wonderful afternoon if I did call in sick. What we actually did was this: go to the pub and have a couple of pints and eggs n chips, then go to his place, have weird out-of-it sex then fall asleep. Until I had to get up to go to BFI Southbank for some final festival staff drinking. Where I was a figure of fun...trotting in with dirty clothes, scratches on my neck, crazy hair and a general I've-been-up-on-drugs-and-being-a-dirty-boy type face. But after a couple of mojitos and some genle mockery I was back on form! Oh dear this is turning into a dull post about how wrecked I got. Um I guess my point is that this apocalyptic night followed an amazing couple of weeks filled with smart funny queers and good films and fun party times. It would have been weird to go out with a whimper, not a bang. So this guy, my latest lover, Jon, makes me feel really nice. He is so sweet and tells me I'm beautiful a lot. Crikey thats not a great reason to keep someone around. Hmm. I would actually like to keep hold of him as a friend - he makes me laugh a lot. He laughs a lot. He's 38 but is like a giddy teenager. He is the opposite of Rhidian, who I've decided is a bit of a dick now. He is such a bloody schmoozy fake arrogant idiot. Dunno why I had a crush on him for so long. bluergh.

In other non boy news, I started at the screen on the green tonight - what a ridiculous job. I just sat on a closed box office for 2 hours, with nothing actually to do when the film came out other than prop the door open. Didn't even tidy up like we had to at the picturehouse. Easy money, but still I'm knackered. I walked home having left my oyster card at home and tried to think of anything other than the daunting month ahead. no day off for a month. ugh. I'm super tired now but I've agreed to volunteer at the food chain tomorrow - I'm gonna die. long long 15 hour long long day. boo. Time for bed.

I'm so frustrated. Plans have suddenly gone awry! I've found out that I cannot apply directly to the AHRC, but have to do it through UCL. And their deadline has passed. Fucking cunts. They said I needed to apply for the MA by the end of February to be considered for AHRC funding. Which I did. Then they take bloody ages to offer me a place. By which time, their deadline for funding applications has passed. Where's the logic? Where's the fairness??? Ugh I'm in such a quandry now. I wanna do this MA so bad, but doing it without funding is not an attractive prospect. I don't think I can do it. I would end up in so much debt. Which I don't think I can let happen, as this MA will not be advancing my career in any way. It would be such an expensive, crippling indulgence. So I'm considering deferring my place for a year. Which really upsets me to do. But I think I just have to be sensible. I can apply for funding next year. And after speaking to several people in the know, I feel I'm in with a really good chance of getting it.

Deep breath.

Its just annoying that yesterday I felt so wonderful knowing I had this planned for September. And now I'm back into this wibbly wobbly existence. I need to be able to be OK with that, and not worry and panic. To take things as they come. And make the most of the time. Maybe I'll go back to the idea of extensive travel. Maybe I'll even submit another Fulbright application.

Another deep breath. I should see an opportunity here rather than failure and disappointment. But its tough.

So yesterday evening I pretty much spent 4 hours making sure the green room was the perfect place for RuPaul. And he didn't even go in. He sashayed into the building, was fabulous, watched the movie, then sashayed out. He didn't touch his room temperature water in a tall glass with a straw. He looked bloody amazing though. The inner drag queen's heart cried out to me to unleash her from her stocky hairy man-cage.

Seriously though, I do wonder if I'll ever really express my draggy leanings beyond dressing up in the house for Toby. I was thinking about trans things a lot yesterday as I discovered - although I'm utterly stupid and everyone in the world could see for themselves - that this film maker who was exhibiting at the festival was a trans man. I wish I'd asked him more questions, as I see on his website that he does a performance piece called "ask a tranny" where he sits in a public space and invites people to ask him anything about his life as a trans man - so he is clearly happy to talk about things, and indeed encourages people to talk to him about trans stuff. I was actually so attracted to him, maybe more so when I discovered he was trans, and wonder I now this will be a "thing." I think a lot about sleeping with women, but never in a way that I could ever imagine picking a "regular" girl up in a bar or whatever. I think maybe I'd be into a trans man, though I'm worried now that I'm thinking of trans men as some kind of circus freaks, some novelties or intriguing sex toys, which totally isn't the case. I genuinely found Morty so hot and I'm having some interesting thoughts.

There was an afterparty at Heaven which was surprisingly cool. The party was in this whole different section of the club I've never been in, a restricted function room type place, where they had a couple of cabaret acts and most importantly, free booze. Hence me getting wasted, ha. It was a good thing really because I had the courage to pull Marco, the cute Italian boy. He reminds me of Daniel a little, with his funny accent and Eurotrashy-gay-grungy-slightly-fashiony look. He came back home with me and we had fun but I wish I'd been less drunk. He's here for the rest of the festival so maybe we'll get a chance to have sober sex. The whole situation in Heaven could have been awkward as Leo was there, who I'm finding impossible to be attracted to, despite him being so smart and funny and nice. But it wasn't awkward at all- he barely batted an eyelid when Marco and I made out, and was busy making moves on some other guy. We both agreed we should hang out in a civilised manner soon - ie not a trashy gay club or a gay sauna (where I bumped into him and hung out with him properly for the first time, bizarrely).

I had to do a day in my real job today, and I was an hour late, but I'm getting a wide berth as I only have a few more days left. This wide berth included going for lunch with some of my favourite colleagues to the pub for two hours and topping up my drunkeness (I was still drunk when I arrived - was being such a gobshite). But then the hangover hit, and I was really annoyed that (a) it got super busy and i wanted to cry and (b) I couldn't stay in the theatre longer than 2 scenes of Henry IV part I. Ugh ugh I know its not my favourite of the histories but now I've ruined my plan to see all 8 of them in order. Richard II was a couple of days ago - I really enjoyed it. The actor playing Richard managed to inject some real pathos into the role, one that is pretty unsympathetic to me. He played him rather camp and wore extravagant costume and make up, that contrasted with Henry's manly brusqueness really effectively. The scene in Act 4 where Richard talks of having no name was amazing. He took off his make up and threw off his wig and I totally bought the vulnerability- my heart suddenly went out to this rather unlikable character who I'd been happy to see get shafted earlier. I guess this is the whole point of the play but it was such a great feeling when I said to myself "Oh I get it!" Hopefully I can pick up the thread and enjoy some more of the histories, that the quality will remain high and I'll be similarly stimulated. Just tonight, when Falstaff came onstage, I knew I needed to get out of there and retire to the sofa, even if it meant enduring American Idol with the boys.

Last weekend of the festival - I'll be so sad when its over! A super cute Czech girl who I've hung around with quite a bit at the festival was telling me in November I should go to Prague for the gay film festival she works on there - I'm totally going to go! Worth missing a class or two! Esp if I can wing delegate status....

I keep trying to write an entry but the amount of events, feelings and ideas I want to put in writing just keeps getting bigger and the longer I leave it, the more intimidated I feel about writing an entry! I must click post rather than save draft when I get shooed away from this computer.

Charlie came to visit which was wonderful. He reminds me about lots of important things, things I tend to put on the back burner as pleasant additions to life, things I have as side dishes when they should be the main courses. Going to Amsterdam with him was a big ol' adventure of pot, canals, sleeping on benches in the rain and boys. I'm in love with a club called De Trut there. The whole place is pretty cool actually. Surprisingly beautiful and generally very friendly.

Been working at the LLGFF the last few days, and will be here for the next week or so. Its been so lovely. Made me realise how good a job can be. I wish I could work here down at BFI Southbank. I have my eye on a few cute film makers.... There is this one boy, an Italian, who is soooo cute. Even his little rat tail which should be gross, I find kind of endearing. Agh I love European boys. And when they are cute European gay boys who are into queer cinema, and kind of Eurotrashy looking, so much the better. I'm working in the delegate centre by day, then sneaking into screenings and crashing parties/the green room by night, and will be sad when its all over. Esp cos I won't be having daily conversations with Brian Robinson, the head programmer - he is this older guy who wears funny suits and tells me great stuff about being a hot young gay in the 60s in London, having grown up in a strict Northern Irish family. I think he is maybe smitten with me, and hopefully I can be his protege.

I made out with my crush! A guy who works at the BFI in the education dept, who I met at the Christmas party and have been trying to corner since. Doesn't usually take that long! I think he thinks I'm some stupid little boy, and that he feels sorry for me or something? He's super tall and kind of handsome and rather strapping (or maybe just a bit stocky?) but also kind of annoying, badly dressed, and a tad arrogant. But I've been giggly and silly around him ever since we met. I finally found the courage to turn flirtation into action, and he gave me the most amazing movie-style romantic kiss in the corridor in the offices at 1am a few nights ago. Its been a good while since a kiss felt like that. Like I wanted to giggle afterwards. These feelings are so strange and misleading...there must be some kind of equation that explains these feelings - to do with a combination of unattainability, power relations and workplace inpropriety.

The sun is starting to come out and I feel so wonderful about my life. Ugh that sounds nauseating. But its true! Its payback time for years of teenage misery. And January and February this year were pretty dark, and its great there's sunshine as the year progresses. Literal and metaphorical sunshine. You know its coming logically, but in those dark days you begin to lose hope. Oh I haven't even written about my trip to Scotland or my birthday! They were fun too!

So March was awesome, and the following months seem pretty cool, going on what plans have been made. Solomon arrives soon, and we are going on a trip to Stockholm. I'm psyched about seeing her! She only planned it recently, and I can hardly believe she'll be here so soon! Whilst she is still here I start a month-long internship at the BBC in documentary production, which should be super interesting and great for me career wise. I hope I like working in docs as much as I hope I will. I start an MA in September. Who knows what will fill the Summer months but I feel very hopeful - a mix of interesting work, travel, medical testing and reading for school. I actually only found out I got onto the MA in European Thought (yeah I know bullshit sounding title but it looks amazing) yesterday and it was sucha relief. I'm learning to enjoy spontaneity and to trust in good things happening, but it feels great to have something concrete set down. I can't wait to be a student again!

earthquake?

So I joined the gym, panicking a little that I have signed up for a half marathon in 8 and a half weeks. During my induction I realised I have gotten pretty unfit - going for a run every 3 weeks doesn't a fit person make. I had this sadistic Polish guy making me work really hard on teh rowing machine - I wanted to cry. I couldnt barely type when I returned to work. And then I had a basement session and had to lift so many heavy periodicals....boo!

I'm really concerned about the detrimental effect going to the gym may have on my personality. I'll get too obsessed and all I'll talk about to people is the gym. The most annoying thing after people giving you a detailed description of their dream is a detailed description of how they beat their personal best or whatever. Anyway I'm enjoying it so far, remembering I like to push myself physically, and how pleasurable the feeling of walking out in the fresh air after a tough work out it. Its really busy in there though, unlike the gym I used to go to at Goldsmiths (art students don't work out. They smoke roll ups instead of eating). So having a shower is really difficult because I just keep getting an erection - there are hot naked wet people everywhere. So I have to face the wall and try to think unsexy things. I had to put the shower on really cold and think about my old lady boss today so that I could get out and dry off without anyone calling pervert on me. It was good having a really lonng shower though. The hot water runs out so quickly at home, but the ones at the gym are really hot and the water is so powerful. Listen to me! I'm getting all sexy again!

I went to the theatre last night for the first time in a while. Well late last year I went to see Masque of the Red Death which was truly wonderful, but its been a good while since I saw a PLAY, and even longer since I saw a contemporary play. Well "A Prayer For My Daughter" wasn't quite contemporary, being set in the 70s, but it definitely was a far cry from all the Shakespeare I saw in the last couple of years. I really enjoyed it, despite the dialogue being occasionally clunky and the broad conceits being somewhat awkward, mainly because it was good to feel the immediacy of the theatre once more. And a play that could only be a play, not a film and not a book. I kept thinking of something some actor (Ed Harris maybe?) said in an old issue of Interview I was reading this week, that films often forget actors have bodies, so often showing only the waist up or just the face. Last night I really engaged with the bodies on stage, especially because of the seat I had and because it was a traverse stage, meaning the actors often had their backs to me (most annoyingly when the cute guy got naked and I wished I was on the other side so much). It was good to be reminded of people as a full moving entity like this. I have resolved to attend more, feeling better about taking some risks and seeing smaller productions whose shortcomings won't neccessarily limit my engagement. As I say, "A Prayer..." wasn't perfect but it got me thinking, got me stimulated and excited and feeling like my old self again.

It was something of a "mood" piece, the mood being that of a downtown police station in NY on Independence Day, a mood that the set and lighting designer captured really well. I totally bought the sweaty restlessness of a long midsummer day, despite it being near freezing outside. The play is a four-hander and structured around laborious questioning which never finds answers, punctuated by an impatient ringing phone. Everyone was confused and struggling to figure things out, to get some peace, to cool off and feel calm and content. The acting was great overall. One guy wasn't so good and didnt seem to quite get a grip on his character - the philosophising queer career criminal. He was supposed to have power over this wriggly skinny smack addict, but he didn't quite convince me. Any other issues I had with performances seemed to stem from the dialogue itself, which was sometimes rather awkward and difficult for any actor to deliver.

I'm still trying to fully figure out what the whole "daughter" motif meant, and found it often a frustrating and clunky intrusion into action that was at times sharply observed and sharp. Those involved in the production didnt seem to be able to resolve the problem of how to handle the literariness of the script, to weave it into a play that often poses as a rather more conventional crime thriller. This failure didn't hamper my enjoyment entirely, especially as they were disciplined enough to keep the running time under two hours. So overall: often frustrating and awkward, but engaging. Seen as this has turned into a review, I'd give it 3 and a half stars.

I felt rather jealous of the people in the really nice bar afterwards, wishing I had made someone go with me so I could share a beer and have a chat about the play. Theatre buddies must be sought. I must cajole and bully people some more into going. Having said that there was a quiet comfort in sitting alone on the bus cruising through the city, my thoughts to myself, and having spent the play not worrying about if the other person was enjoying it.

I'm so tired. I dunno if I can manage this last furlong.....

If in doubt write porn. I just wrote the dirtiest most fucked up sex scene I feel so crazily worked up. This is what happens when getting I get locked out of the house for hours, and then have to feverishly write the day's quota at 1.30am.

Cold shower time.

I'm struggling now. but happy I got to 30 000. Need. To. Keep. Going.

I can almost smell the halfway point, that magic 25 000 figure, but I'm defeated and my not-so-warm bed calls. I'm annoyed I can't document any of my life and obviously profound intelligent thoughts, but I can't face writing more once I've detailed the travails of my insane protagonists.

Phew. Heavy weekend.

I did myself proud today. I'm still not quite caught up - I should be on 16667 words today - but I'm super happy that I wrote 4000 words today. I'm confident I can do so again tomorrow and fully catch up and put some ground work in for the week ahead. It feels really great to have this purpose. My approach I've realised is writing the kind of book I'd like to read. The perfect novel for David Edgar. It makes it all really fulfilling.

I'm liking this whole Monday - Friday thing. I feel I can get a handle on my time so much better. I'm excited to see what Sunday has in store for me. Today was great. Walking around, coffee, writing, more coffee, food shopping, delicious dinner, movie, hanging out, and now - more writing i think. I can't wait to see what happens next. I wonder if Verity can ever be the same again after such brutalization....

Everything fits today. ahhhh. time to read the news maybe and feel concerned about something. Pakistan obvs. This contentedness can't be good for me. yes. thats what I need to do. Read about innocent people being locked up by military regimes. Phew I can feel some anger seeping back already!

I only wrote a five hundred words more, mainly because I was riveted by this Terence Davies movie, which I had put on in the background. I'm good at zoning out crap and just like to have some sound sometimes thats not music. But I had no right to zone this out. It was bloody good.



It has made me feel slightly ashamed of the shallow characterization in my "novel." But at the same time aware that (a) not everything has to be a kitchen-sink drama and (b) I can come back to it. I just need to keep writing! And stop updating my LJ maybe.