Big Issue
As per yesterday. That is: work hard on doppelganger piece, and go to the gym. Also spirits somewhat elevated due to getting paid. Wolf now cudgeled away from the door, and is set to be driven off even further shortly. Reading The Double by Dostoevsky.
A mooch about town in the afternoon, winding up in my normal cafe. Outside was stationed a particularly forlorn looking Big Issue seller. I brushed past as usual, without answering. As I queued for my bourgeois overpriced cup of Americano I thought how, by ignoring him, I had projected his own non-being back at him. It was as good as dealing out a little death. So I went outside and scored one for the first time in ages. Actually a better magazine than I remembered it. Glancing up from time to time, and watching him being serially ignored was quite sobering, and, in one of my more Frazier Crane moments, quite put me off working on my libretto.
Spent the evening sorting out some photos. Found two from back when the world was black and white. One of the four and a half year old me with the Tobster. I'm still scarred by how much Toby howled in that photographer's studio in St Peter Port. And the other with the frozen smile was I think a school photo from St Martin's school in Guernsey taken within a year.
As per yesterday. That is: work hard on doppelganger piece, and go to the gym. Also spirits somewhat elevated due to getting paid. Wolf now cudgeled away from the door, and is set to be driven off even further shortly. Reading The Double by Dostoevsky.
A mooch about town in the afternoon, winding up in my normal cafe. Outside was stationed a particularly forlorn looking Big Issue seller. I brushed past as usual, without answering. As I queued for my bourgeois overpriced cup of Americano I thought how, by ignoring him, I had projected his own non-being back at him. It was as good as dealing out a little death. So I went outside and scored one for the first time in ages. Actually a better magazine than I remembered it. Glancing up from time to time, and watching him being serially ignored was quite sobering, and, in one of my more Frazier Crane moments, quite put me off working on my libretto.
Spent the evening sorting out some photos. Found two from back when the world was black and white. One of the four and a half year old me with the Tobster. I'm still scarred by how much Toby howled in that photographer's studio in St Peter Port. And the other with the frozen smile was I think a school photo from St Martin's school in Guernsey taken within a year.
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