It's all practice, right?
December 19th 2009 19:25
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I got referred to as Edward Furlong repeatedly tonight. Many times. I’m hoping terminator 2 era Furlong because honestly, that’s the only film I’ve ever seen him in and who didn’t shed a manly tear when Arnie melted into lava? I know I did. It was something to do with me being young, surely. A condescending adult thing about how much you don’t know and Oh My God how cute is it when you try and say things.
Fucking annoying. So the sun is coming up. I know Keith is reading this, so HA (Irregular hours!!). And as I sit here, admiring the amazing view across the city from my bedroom. I can’t help but think. Maybe all great things were written at 5 in the morning. Then I laugh and call myself an idiot. If it was written at 5 in the morning then it was probably nonsensical. Though maybe there’s some truth and all the best ideas were seeded at 5 in the morning.
So tonight. There was this German girl. Now before I go on. Let me let you in on something. I judge my German girls in two classes. German girls who laugh when I say, ich bein ien Berliner. And those who don’t. Now I take this quite seriously, this being the only German I know and all. If I say that and the girl laughs. Then the only way of looking at it is that she’s so interested in me she’s prepared to look past my terribly shitty joke and still dance with me. Either that or she didn’t hear me. Both good things
This girl, she laughed. Then she was stolen away by some Grinch-man determined to keep me from the woman of my dreams. I know what you'd say, punch that fucker in the throat, right? But it was all very quick. I’m dancing; German-girl-who-doesn’t-hate- me is dancing too. In my mind it went like this, initiate kissing. Kissing initiated. Leaning in. SOME FUCKER STOLE THE GIRL. Like right then. Apparently she was staying with him but he had a girlfriend. All of this falls on deaf ears because regardless, he wins the golden globe for cock block of the year.
So the sun is completely up. How am I going to fit being awake when the sun is up into my busy schedule? It’s all practice though right, I can rest easy. One day this is all going to pay for itself. Hopefully. Cause the years of therapy certainly won’t. Im a bad person, if you hadn’t heard. Though I think that might be a post in itself. Something worthwhile, I think I should wrap this up, or at least start a new file. Lets me frank for a moment. ………………..harder than it sounds. Forced frankness sounds like a terrible name for a band and it’s hard to do. I don’t want to be too incriminating. This whole blog thing started as a way for me to write without fear of retribution. But now when I write something it’s pretty much public knowledge for people I know. I feel like I should have another secreter blog for super secret facts. Not that I’m so interesting I have super secret facts.
I like the sound that Australia makes early in the morning. The places I was, none of them sound quite the same in the early hours of the morning. Cape Town sounded like a ghost town where I was staying. The city will keep moving until presumably the rapture makes it stop. But out further in the suburbs, it’s almost dead quiet. Almost like nobody wants to rouse anybody else for fear of horrible payback. This is mostly true of Cape Town. But arriving home then, is very surreal, though arriving home at 5/6 is surreal anywhere.
Moving on to Ghana. The thing with dawn in Ghana is that people are already doing their things. You feel like they’re all outside your window going, fucking decadent white man only going to sleep now, I’ve been up for the last 8 days toiling in god knows what profession. It’s like that, then I remember that Ghana is the laziest place on earth and if any Ghanaian knew the meaning of toiling they’d probably all die in unison. Love those bastards though.
England, England is much like living in the middle of Cape Town. Shit is always going down but people live on different wavelengths of caring. AS in very little caring, all the time. SOMEBODY is always up there, cycling or doing something productive. You feel almost ashamed walking home when somebody is walking to work. Then you think to yourself. My night was 100 times better than your day will be. And somewhere deep in my cavernous chest I get a warm feeling.
But if they say, New York is the city that never sleeps. Then London is the city that never sleeps and fuck New York. It never dies. Apart from the pubs and bottle shops all closing at like 8 in the evening, weirdly you still get drunk idiots wandering the streets singing. Which is almost the English way. And by the time they get tired. The work day has started again and some poor sap is on the tube listening to how my last 15 relationships didn’t work out and is it me?
New York. You know, I didn’t come home at stupid hours of the morning while I was in New York, because I can’t drink there. Which I still feel is inhumane. But regardless, from what I saw of the night time there, it seemed a lot more relaxed. Maybe they’re so used to being the city that never sleeps that nothing can surprise them. Maybe they’ve actually PERFECTED cycnism.
Though in a roundabout way I was coming back to this. Mornings in Australia, It sounds like you’re sleeping in a zoo. The amazing bird calls you can hear now. I never thought about it before. But since being back. I really do enjoy the particularly Australian morning choir. Birds, cars and horrifying bugs I never want to see (including cicadas). It makes me feel very comfortable.
APART from the crazy bitch who is now watering her garden. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it’s EXACTLY 6:12. For the love of god, her garden can wait. I can think of a single thing that would make waking up at this time voluntary. Except maybe childbirth. And I’ve avoided that up to now.
She’s gazing at her plants with this very odd glazed look on her face. Like a pod person. I’ve seen enough 50’s paranoid sci fi to know an alien when I see one. There no other reason for her to be looking so blankly. I wonder if she sets her alarm to wake her up, just so she can get a head start on her pointless watering for the day. Those plants won’t water themselves. Well, that bed won’t sleep in itself either woman but you’re neglecting the fuck out of that at the moment. Pointless really, even if she read this she probably wouldn’t put two and two together and realise I wrote it. Apart from my amazing description of the morning, who’s to know where I am?
I’m coming up on two pages of nonsense written so far, I’m going to sleep. Possibly a moot point because the day has well and truly begun. But fuck you, I’m going to defiantly sleep. If only I had something worthwhile to write about. BUT, I suppose its all practice.
p.s
sorry for my spelling.
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