Thursday, December 23, 2004

December 2 (Thursday): Beelzebozo. I wake up at around 6.50 on my parents’ sofa. This piece of furniture wasn’t designed for sleeping on and therefore I’m semi cranky. I take in too much Sky TV before beginning work (study) but at least it is the right side of 9AM.

I feel funny about getting breakfast at my parent’s house while mum is preparing to go to work and Dad is hanging around (although fortunately he is going out later on this afternoon). At least today however the dog has the most life in him that he has had for weeks.

Around 9AM, I hook up on the computer and begin studying using the BPP I-Pass CD-Roms. These questions are hard and this study is not as effective as I hope. I thought multichoice very supposed to be fairly easy?

Around 10AM Sara comes online and asks “how our meal (the Chinese) last night was?”. I wonder if she realises that it is me and not Dad online. I become monosyllabic and anonymous. She then says/asks “has Jason told you that we are going to see a show?”. It becomes obvious that she thinks it is my old man online. I drag it out for a few minutes for saying “I like Peaches” and she clocks it is me. And with that, my study for the day all but goes out of the window with this fucking distraction.

Ouch, the Sky TV is also a distraction; was daytime Sky always this good showing X-Files, Buffy and Angel. And who on earth sits at home and watches these shows, surely no one on the dole can afford Sky?

And then there is The Wrestling Channel showing a shoot interview with Marty Jannetty which actually turns out to be one of the best interviews I have seen so far.

I resume all efforts to study in the afternoon (as the day gets dark/black) but Sara only returns on MSN, telling me about the sort of man she wants to settle down and raise a family with. This ideal man turns out to be a middle aged, accomplished professional but nothing to do with him being successful and financially secure, nothing like that. That’s me out of the window/running then I guess. I however get the final blow in when I punch below the belt (the vagina?) and say “it all sounds a bit fickle to me”. She kicks off and leaves (goes offline).

At this point I switch from accountancy homework to my English homework with my revision/study progress having reached 28% on audit, 8% on tax and an overall score of 18%, this is not progress.

I pick up my English homework and the task is to write a letter to a newspaper on the subject of asylum seekers. I really don’t want to do this essay, it’s a subject for blind liberals and do-gooders in which I fear any opposition to such opinions, only sounds like some BNP/right wing statement. I actually wind up doing a pretty good job whilst being against asylum seekers but sneakily shift the tone of the letter to being negative/critical of media coverage of asylum seekers rather than the actual asylum seekers themselves. Oh well, house them in the homes of silverspoon socialists I say (those overeducated buffoons).

I stick around my parents for some (cooked) dinner before heading home. Upon getting into my Focus and turning the key, the car struggles (almost fails) to start. It is really laboured and a horrible experience as I suspect it as being a knock on effect of letting the staff of Twin Peaks garage touch its insides with view to sabotaging my engine for another pay out/invoice to them. And as my current run of luck has been, it becomes the latest addition to my stockpile of woes.

Drama aside, once going it never stops and I get home in time for a quick bath so I am not stinky for my fellow English students.

English turns out to be another beacon of hope/optimism as within minutes of arriving in the class, the teacher is handing me a creative writing reference book with viewing to me pulling together my apparent “talent” and making something of it (other than to lose my job). It’s a real boost for someone to actually display some real belief in me for once, especially as a person that craves attention (and recognition) and generally gets starved.

Tonight’s class is spent listening to speeches. First is the infamous Martin Luther King “I have a dream” statement which remains pretty moving and well delivered. We follow this with a Winston Churchill speech with isn’t as well delivered but remains heavy in/on content. We then proceed to break down and dismantle the make up of the speeches, almost revealing the individuals not to be as slick, smart and smooth as their words might/would suggest.

During the class, Sara begins texting me again. Tonight she has been/gone to see the new Bridget Jones movie with her friend in Dubai and after the movie they have stopped by a bar which turns out to be inhabited entirely by professional ladies (people on the hustle) and their marks (clients, crawlers without curbs nor cars). Sara expresses her dismay at this place over three consecutive text messages and the inevitable happens when she tells me how her and her friend were propositioned. Dour and dead pan (after this afternoon’s MSN session/revelation) I respond “if the cap fits” to which she responds with an explosive text going “fuck you then”, a reaction I cannot ever remember getting from her before (but from many other girls).

Class ends and I head straight to Tesco Hythe and buy some Rocket Fuel with view to staying up and writing all night. Wired baby.

Eventually Sara texts once more with an apology text after I tell her “I was only joking” and she tells me how “places like that make me feel so dirty”. I wonder how places like that really differ from your run of the mill night clubs though were the intentions are really exactly the same and the exchange of goods and services, that much more subtle and less advertised.

np: Love Among Freaks - Clerks


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