Wednesday, December 29, 2004

December 14 (Tuesday): For the fourth day/morning running I wake up with a headache. The time is 8.30ish and the will is not there. I find myself at the bottom of the wishing dwell.

I find I can’t pull myself out of bed (can’t be arsed) and the T4 Christmas TV only allows me to stay pinned in bed as I’ll happily watch shit like Futurama and The Chancers when I’m in this flip state of mind.

With those out of the way, I finish off watching Tape and it actually turns out a hell of a lot better than I had realised and it actually serves to gee me up a bit and get me going. Wahey.

Today turns out to be the first day of my unemployment in which I suffer really severe cabin fever, I wake up feeling exhausted from nothing along with the obligatory headache all pretty much rendering me useless and hopeless.

Luckily though I have an obligation to leave the house today, which is to go to the Job Centre and sign on. And it had better be good because I turned down seeing Alan Moore interviewing Brian Eno for this. I get my little unemployment diary and fill in the details and dates of my interviews blah blah blah and set off out for/to town. Once more, I get the short guy filling in forms on the computer screen. And this week he has his mate in a wheelchair with him, who rubs me up the wrong way when he picks out our “work diaries” and goes “lets see what we have here” in a pretty impersonal tone. And then amusingly as they fill in the forms with regards to myself, they talk between themselves as if I were not there. Fortunately due to Christmas, it will be a month before I get interrogated by the SS again. God I want a job.

I’m beginning to hate town in the daytime, it is full of losers wandering around town with no place to go. As I walk back to my car to get the hell out of dodge and back to the safety of my home, I see Steve Whitton (ex-Col U manager) who appears to still be knocking about town. I then also see someone I used to go to school with sucking his thumb as he passes me called Adam (I’ll conveniently forget his surname was Dowson), which pretty much sums up the desperation of the day. As I get to my car, I see another car and it has the number plate AY51LUW which I have to double take because when I first read it, it looks like “asylum” to me.

When home, I read the Sun and some smoke has done a stitch up article on going to the New Den and watching Millwall play. The man claims it all to be thoroughly racist and offensive. He appears to take offence at the fact that people aren’t coming up to him and talking and hanging out. Jesus Christ, this is a football match, people just don’t do that, hell when I go up to Millwall on my own I feel intimidated and sit on my own, its part of the parcel. And then the idiot man writer claims Millwall fans seig heil, something I have never seen. God, an idiot like this gets two pages to wax lyrical in the most read newspaper in the country. Grief.

In the evening, Dad pops up on MSN and he tells me how he has been watching The Sopranos and enjoying it. Cool, I have been trying to get him to watch it for ages, finally we have something else to talk about other than football.

np: Buscemi – The Salon Suite


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