December 5 (Sunday): The Sanctity Of Life. Sunday morning and the fun fun newspaper run. Today, I am all out of food in the flat so I chance my arm and actually go to Asda and do some food shopping.

As I wander around the aisles like a loser, I spot a face from the past and speed up in the hope that she doesn’t see me. As I stare at the cheese, making my dairy decision, I hear her call my name and I trapped in flashback hell. Here is Jackie, a really old face back from 93/95 and the loser YT college I attended back in the day. And with her is her fucking family, her husband who once did an ACCA course with me and now thinks we are friends while I think he’s divlo fucker. She shows me her kid, a lad called Jordan (probably named after the New Kid but now the name has been hijacked by the big titted Katie Price, that christening sure has backfired on her). Her kid is wearing some wacky Christmas necktie that plays a song/tune (when it works). I am so trapped in the dairy/fridge section of Asda by this lot, I am in hell. Jackie will ever be imprinted on my psyche for numerous tragic reasons and the further away I get from her, the better.

Still, I’m a good guy, I only think these things (that she is complete) pondlife and I make nice nice in response to her questioning of me as if we were still in that funk that was ten years ago. I do however ask her why an employee of Sainsburys is shopping in Asda (such a smartarse but hey Jason at least she has a job!).

Get home as soon as possible to lick my wounds. Ouch, talk about rub salt in the wound.

I attempt to get into some study and by now I have long since aborted my progress recorder. And it doesn’t really affect my effects either way.

By later afternoon I have downloaded Anchorman off Soulseek and the attraction is just too much. And the movie turns out several times funnier than the trailers made it look. Will Ferrell retains his crown.

Additionally, I also watch a worrying amount of Crocodile Dundee In Los Angeles, indicating a new low in my depths of being a sadcase loser.

My main sign/form of human life/contact today is Sara continuing to text me, giving me a commentary of her boarding her plane back to England. It starts out factual (“booking in for my flight now”) but winds up being the down right trivial (“the man opposite is eating and is SO gross”).

Tonight Iggy Pop features on the South Bank Show and it’s a weird one. As usual Iggy comes over as a true hero and survivor but also, in his late years, he comes over as next to broke (or at best financially comfortable). The Stooges coverage is amazing, both interviews, stories and coverage, the band has never had a stronger myth to it. Shit, I should have videoed the show.

np: Guided By Voices – Rhine Jive Click