Fireworks
Breakfast with Mum and Mase: coffee and crumpets and various compulsory vitamin pills. Mum scorning her usual muesli. Then some chatting and resetting Spotify on Mum's computer and making her listen to smidge of screeching Schoenberg. Also showed her facebook. Then off for a steak and kidney pudding in the Man in the Moon in Stanmore, parking in the Sainsbury's car park, as Mum and Mase are at war with the jobsworth in the Lidl's car park. Mum sporting a butterfly ring she bought, and her enforced starvation over the last few weeks has resulted in the silver lining of her having lost weight.
Avidly reading The Double by Dostoevsky on the train back to Brighton. It is definitely about someone having a nervous breakdown, and then there is the issue of whether the double is really there or not. In the evening met Matt briefly over a beer to talk excitedly about doubles, Schoenberg, etc. and how we could make ours distinctly different. A farewell outside the pub, and on either side the sky was thundering with fireworks. It felt like an omen as my monologue Someone-else's patch which got us talking about this project (and was published donkey's years ago) was set on Guy Fawkes night. Guy Fawkes, as us Brits know, was a catholic who was hung drawn and quartered after attempted to blow up the houses of parliament on the night of November 5th 1605. Ever since his effigy has been burnt amid fireworks on November 5th.
Then I sloped off to meet Lorraine, the road skittering once or twice with spent rockets falling out of the sky. The end of a demanding week, and I me Lorraine in our usual curry house, to download the week, and then slope home to my place to boof splendidly onto the gold sofa.
Breakfast with Mum and Mase: coffee and crumpets and various compulsory vitamin pills. Mum scorning her usual muesli. Then some chatting and resetting Spotify on Mum's computer and making her listen to smidge of screeching Schoenberg. Also showed her facebook. Then off for a steak and kidney pudding in the Man in the Moon in Stanmore, parking in the Sainsbury's car park, as Mum and Mase are at war with the jobsworth in the Lidl's car park. Mum sporting a butterfly ring she bought, and her enforced starvation over the last few weeks has resulted in the silver lining of her having lost weight.
Avidly reading The Double by Dostoevsky on the train back to Brighton. It is definitely about someone having a nervous breakdown, and then there is the issue of whether the double is really there or not. In the evening met Matt briefly over a beer to talk excitedly about doubles, Schoenberg, etc. and how we could make ours distinctly different. A farewell outside the pub, and on either side the sky was thundering with fireworks. It felt like an omen as my monologue Someone-else's patch which got us talking about this project (and was published donkey's years ago) was set on Guy Fawkes night. Guy Fawkes, as us Brits know, was a catholic who was hung drawn and quartered after attempted to blow up the houses of parliament on the night of November 5th 1605. Ever since his effigy has been burnt amid fireworks on November 5th.
Then I sloped off to meet Lorraine, the road skittering once or twice with spent rockets falling out of the sky. The end of a demanding week, and I me Lorraine in our usual curry house, to download the week, and then slope home to my place to boof splendidly onto the gold sofa.
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