under another sun

Up fairly early, feeling a bit rough again. The girl next door having a teenage party into the small hours. Then went off into town, being delayed by a demonstration for homeless people who have died in the city carrying mock coffins in the rain. Two people boarded, a father and son, talking about ways to disrupt society, such as spreading the road with tacks. In the cafe I wrote a transgressive poem about scrotums in the spirit of Chuck Palahniuk in a cafe (it may not be my finest hour) while waiting for Lorraine to come out of the hairdressers, which she did looking sleek. Popped in at Wayne's shop and had a long chat with him. He is working in kitchen design. Lorraine noticed a beautiful painting on the wall set off the kitchens perfectly. Turned out it was the board he had rested his paint tins on when he was redoing the shop. Then there were rehearsals. A good session. I am reassured that the piece is beginning to work as drama too. I like it when the play makes sense an...

Held responsible Up to London. Popped in to see my glamorous accountant and hand over things I'd signed. Then into the agency. A long and slightly trying day. But all well when I left at sevenish, the first neuropathic pain work coming to a raging climax today. Interestingly, Richard the visualiser was using a Tablet PC, allowing him to draw directly onto the screen of his computer. Really cool, and makes amending the image really fast, without having to start again like traditional visualisers. Slunk off leaving the ever suffering art director (in this case Sean) to see the work through. Feeling tired on the train home, half looking out at the occasional firework bursting in the sky while listening to Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. It is a series of linked short stories, in a style the author calls Transgressive Fiction. The opening story, Guts , which I mentioned the other day is without exaggeration, and by some way, the single most disgusting thing I have ever read. Apparently pe...

Train time Back in the train limbo. Working on poems going up to London, looking afresh at my old Guernsey work for the project I am doing with Richard next year. Fortunately there are several improvements that leap out at me right away. The stuff I've done about Guernsey is surprisingly coherent over the years. Into the agency and working with Sean again, getting blood from a stone on the neuropathic pain brief. Nothing much to report, although we had a few laughs as we struggled with it. The train home, obsessionally playing the brick breaker game on my mobile phone, and listening to a disgusting audio book by Chuck Palahniuk called Haunted. First story featured a boy masturbating underwater, having his small intestines sucked out by the pool pump. I have rarely felt so revolted by anything. I can't decided if it was depraved or brilliant.