Wonderfully ill
When the doctor said I was in fact ill and I would feel better in three weeks I nearly fainted with joy. There is nothing better than finding out that you are not crap at operating as a human and failing at the task of approaching each day with energy but are just a bit sick. Am wonderfully ill.
SLAMMATOWN - Any type of happiness will do
 Any type of happiness will do, even the synthetic kind caused by Mexican stairwells and an old white car. The drum kit was a surprise. I'll admit it was the last thing I was expecting to see as the door opened and the light switched on but there it sat tom upon tom like it had always been purple and covered in polka dots. I declare drums to be the very best surprise present ever. My housemates have declared my drum kit to be the very worst thing ever but what would they know, they have no idea how it feels to crawl inside the spine of music. |
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The burden of resting
I want to throw myself early each day into a fury of productivity but in the back of my mind, hoarded and loud as a stolen treasure, is this, 'I must rest, I am tired, I must rest'. This is not an unfamiliar thought, I've come to this place before where every small action is paid for in triplicate with exhaustion.
The question is how to navigate out of these waters. I need someone to physically haul me from bed each morning, point to my clean clothes then push me dressed, brushed and breakfasted into my day. I suppose a butler is out of the question?
Part of this exhaustion is left over virus but the remainder comes from being my own anchor. There is only so far I can submerge in my geomorphometry before losing sight of the surface and the always refrain,'I must rest, I am tired, I must rest'. I think I'm going to need a new submarine.
The question is how to navigate out of these waters. I need someone to physically haul me from bed each morning, point to my clean clothes then push me dressed, brushed and breakfasted into my day. I suppose a butler is out of the question?
Part of this exhaustion is left over virus but the remainder comes from being my own anchor. There is only so far I can submerge in my geomorphometry before losing sight of the surface and the always refrain,'I must rest, I am tired, I must rest'. I think I'm going to need a new submarine.
In a trap there were three things, me, my regret and my poverty or Newtown, the gossamer trap, cuts both ways just like a knife
This morning I find myself sitting square in the centre of a Newtown Trap. I should have gone to bed early to make rising at 6am less painful, but I didn't. I stayed up late performing a series of stupid tasks, reading a short story, watching the last hour of a film, piling jumpers onto an armchair, designing a hovering cat basket, deciding which pantone represented my favourite kind of winter sky. When I turned towards bed something small flipped in my stomach and I became determined to rebel.
Here's how it went this morning; my alarm sounded, I woke and lay there wondering which clothes to wear now, and then nothing. Nothing until Grizelda poked her head in the door at 8am because on a suspicion that I was still asleep instead of at work. She was right. First I got up out of bed and then I got angry, with myself, if there's one place I don't want to be it's here, right now, with a whole day off. This day right here is a beginning symptom of The Newtown Trap.
Yesterday I was talking to a friend about a mutual friend. He said 'we're thinking about extricating him from the Newtown Trap'. I knew exactly what he meant, ever since this guy moved to Newtown he's gone from being witty and slyly rebellious to full-out slacker with little to show for all his 'hard work'.
This is how it begins. Unintentional late nights, accidental sleep-ins, next week's wages are reduced because of the day missed, resentment increases, rebellion intensifies until suddenly all discipline falls out of life and art and all that is left is the talking about or the buried but silent delusion that they are working hard to earn money and working productively on their art when it is obvious to everyone else that they are not. They are free-ranging but broke, full of talk and wonder and anecdote but this is all they consist of. This is the commonest form of the Newtown trap, lack of self-discipline and a failure to manage the basic aspects of life, earning vs spending, sleep/wake cycle and eating vegetables, masquerades as true freedom. It's a bit shit really.
I bounce in and out of my own personal Newtown Trap, the odd late late one, the odd set of unexpected days off. It's more than a person should but less than your standard permanent Newtown-Trap-dwelling citizen does. Tomorrow is my scheduled day off but come Thursday morning I'll be leaving The Peach at an ungodly hour with combed hair, clean clothes on and lunch in my handbag. Not because I want to, not because I like going to work but to stay well clear of The Newtown Trap where all is not what it seems.
Here's how it went this morning; my alarm sounded, I woke and lay there wondering which clothes to wear now, and then nothing. Nothing until Grizelda poked her head in the door at 8am because on a suspicion that I was still asleep instead of at work. She was right. First I got up out of bed and then I got angry, with myself, if there's one place I don't want to be it's here, right now, with a whole day off. This day right here is a beginning symptom of The Newtown Trap.
Yesterday I was talking to a friend about a mutual friend. He said 'we're thinking about extricating him from the Newtown Trap'. I knew exactly what he meant, ever since this guy moved to Newtown he's gone from being witty and slyly rebellious to full-out slacker with little to show for all his 'hard work'.
This is how it begins. Unintentional late nights, accidental sleep-ins, next week's wages are reduced because of the day missed, resentment increases, rebellion intensifies until suddenly all discipline falls out of life and art and all that is left is the talking about or the buried but silent delusion that they are working hard to earn money and working productively on their art when it is obvious to everyone else that they are not. They are free-ranging but broke, full of talk and wonder and anecdote but this is all they consist of. This is the commonest form of the Newtown trap, lack of self-discipline and a failure to manage the basic aspects of life, earning vs spending, sleep/wake cycle and eating vegetables, masquerades as true freedom. It's a bit shit really.
I bounce in and out of my own personal Newtown Trap, the odd late late one, the odd set of unexpected days off. It's more than a person should but less than your standard permanent Newtown-Trap-dwelling citizen does. Tomorrow is my scheduled day off but come Thursday morning I'll be leaving The Peach at an ungodly hour with combed hair, clean clothes on and lunch in my handbag. Not because I want to, not because I like going to work but to stay well clear of The Newtown Trap where all is not what it seems.
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