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30 October 2007 @ 10:22 am
September 1:

It was dark when we left. My boots looked grimy under the low wattage of the bare unshaded bulbs. There had been colossal chrysalises surrounding them when we arrived earlier in the autumn but they made me feel nauseous, I could see them bulging, teeming with something undiscovered. They were flat now, slashed, deflated, unhung. The light was harsh but unilluminating. My boots as everything else in the room were now grey. They were stupid boots made of cottony fluff that itched and would be destroyed by any leaves or rain. I decided that it didn’t matter, they were right for the dark night, the uncertainty of coming here could be eroded by the certainty of definite ruin. I decided to ruin them because I wanted to. We left in a hushed three, the wine we had steeped in sugar, cinnamon and herbs lay stickily inside us and melted our conversation. Mute and compliant we followed the night.

October 19:

Cold. Sunlit. Entirely still. I was late and even if I hadn’t been I would have forgotten something. My glasses today so a headache I supposed. Alone I find it hard not to almost run. Not that I don’t enjoy the walk but I have this childish desire to prove I can get there faster. I can’t run by the way, or jog or anything specialised but I can certainly walk. My bare legs mottled immediately and the rest of me sweltered under scarf, coat, hat. I could tell that as soon as I arrived and the sweat dried I was going to stink. It seemed so unfair, I wanted to cry. Unbuttoning my coat and unwinding my extra long scarf I turned up the sound in my ears and tried to imagine myself utterly free. I was gaining time at least, maybe not too late after all. I walked past the man who sits on the wall down the road, he’s there about sixty percent of the times I go past. I think he must live there. I think about if he remembers me, the days I forget my make-up, the days my hair won’t lie down. That is the kind of selfish thoughts I have when confronted with his situation. Deflated I rummage for the volume button as the traffic increases. I look down to the open front of my dress, my hated décolletage that I had hoped to cover with a scarf. Vanity cannot outstrip discomfort though and I continue without. I lurch around a corner, there is a sixty year old man coming around the corner and we almost collide. His eyes are like dishes with a puddle of violet-blue dropped in the centre and they slide without apology to the front of my dress.

November 14:

We had a new oven fitted and the man told us that we shouldn’t have been using the old one, it was dangerous. The landlord is getting a fine and we get a packet of stickers from the workmen to stick by the oven and boiler. They should stay white to tell us that there is no poison leaking from our appliances. If they start getting sooty we should call them and not breathe in. I dreamed of gas poisoning that night, it was a long dream about death and ended with a really violent apocalyptic vision. I woke up and couldn’t understand why there was light. I thought we all lived underground in metal tunnels now it was the apocalypse. It took me ages to stop wondering how to get lower, to find cover. I looked at the new cooker and thought about all the things I’d cook on it and that some of those things would have salt, fat, additives, msg, gluten, cholesterol, sugar, e numbers etc. in. Those things would slowly kill me too, as effectively as monoxide but more insidiously. I looked at the flames on the gas hob, I threw different things into them: water, glitter, foil, food. The flames changed colour and sputtered. I felt afraid harnessing this fire it was so unruly and changeable. And all I needed to do was turn them all on and blow out the flames like birthday candles and lie down and that would kill me too.

December 28:

We went on holiday for Christmas/New Year. It was really depressing. We booked a room at one of those Haven Holiday Parks and it was just us and other couples who didn’t really have anything better to do. There weren’t any children or normal families, just loads of oddball losers like us. The entertainment was ok though, I enjoyed the Rory the Lion Quiz, we answered everything right and won a bottle of Matteus Rose. I always thought those bottles were really elegant. Late that night we ate the dinner (microwaved) and had these happy hour and then non-happy hour cocktails until three am. There was this sort of pushy older couple making suggestive remarks to us all night and we finally caved in, it seemed fitting. A couple of hours later I went back to our room to shower and woke up in the bath at seven, the water still running and big sticky patches of semen unremoved from my back. We packed and left soon after this.