wednesday 22nd august
2:07am: "aren't you worried about whether or not you've got stuff to worry
about?"
"yep."
"so turn your phone on then and find out if you have to worry or not."
"nope."
flying home.
tuesday 21st april
hang. over. sun. hot. leviathan. auster. clive. police. shoulder. oil. aloe. words.
floor. q. r. water. balcony. sleep.
monday 20th august
woodpecker finished, explosively, whilst jamie, 7, from leeds, waited in the rubber
ring for me to take mario to easter island, level 7. all the 7's. 777.
softlad hits 24, "siesta!!!!" being the cry. presents taking the form
of a survival kit. plenty of photos, plenty of memory loss, none of them digital.
sunday 19th august
a day by the pool. getting ready for tomorrow.
saturday 18th august
i have nothing to say today and i don't want to talk. spongelike i'm soaking
up surroundings, moving away from things and people and squeezing.
friday 17th august
after the havoc, splinterings and dizziness of yesterday, today is this:
if i was paint i'd be eight parts yellow, one parts red, one part white. if my
life was a minidisc i'd track mark it today and call it silver, acetate, droplet.
if pluto's orbit is the size of a bicycle innertube the earth's would be a small
coin. if my brain was a texture it may be this:
fat mammas, day one. we are tiny and none of this is very important you know.
thursday 16th august
tan update: think caramelised sugar with white bum.
sun crash. the sixty-seven year old cypriot lost his license after having lanced
his car through the red light at speed into the real wheel of ours. back axle
broken, a 180 degree spin, three shaken up friends and shards of plastic strewn
over the road pretty much ruined today. the second thought that flashed across
my mind after those of health and safety was more about how much the non-english
cypriot policeman would listen to us considering he only spoke the the crasher.
three hours later, the three crashees absolutely fine we were relaxing by the
pool with a new car and a flying tennis ball. no neck braces. good.
we shared a mediterranean sunset on separate islands with words instead of pictures.
my ears today are happier than my eyes.
wednesday 15th august
"to live or work in a city is to be involved in a kind of psycho-drama whose
landscape is both real in detail and unreal in general." ray merrick, the
independent.
far from the city i live and work in made this a positive realisation. if i'd
read it in london i'm sure i would have taken it inverted. cities on the whole
don't agree with me, all the buildings make me think of how much we've squashed,
moved, cleared away and changed. the chaos. the implosions.
when you take it slow and don't take risks you end up with nothing. but this doesn't
necessarily mean taking risks results in what is right for you. some people you
have to let go.
matt said life was like driving a bus with a steering wheel but no brakes. he
said you have to hit as little as possible.
apparently this looks like me. cheers.
tuesday 14th august
drunken antics:
1. paul falling all over the girl, not even putting his hands out to catch himself.
2. "i'm an absolute disgrace", "my head doesn't exist" and
"simon, i'm cold, simon."
3. "show me a fuckin' shooter!" "matt, it's getting light.
sod this. i'm going to bed"
4. aphro thunder in real life.
5. throwing up over the bar (it wasn't me).
6. kokkinos/gyros. "get me a kebaby" says matt.
monday 13th august
steve on matt's pathetic attempt at launching himself onto the lilo with even
the slightest trace of elegance: "matt, you're a shoe with no laces."
matt, swimming drunk. that's all.
sunday 12th august
ibiza chillout album cover, anyone?
this:
controlled field-test with suncream and very pale caucasian, day 2.
factor 15: white, factor 8: white, factor 4: salmon, tummy: red, arms: red, feet:
white, scars: healing. 1am, 1 minidisc. can you guess which one?
an utter stranger: "you lot don't get up 'till dusk." i think we may
be annoying the locals. who, us? the last thing i want to be seen as is a typical
loutish brit. woodpecker isn't what i expected. it really is fiction.
drinking games with cointreau and a league table of scores. mid-season, they look
something like this:
| drunk | points | comments |
|
| matt | 2 | 2.5, 5 | pushed no. 2 round, the resulting "aaah"
sheer drinking satisfaction. |
| paul | 2 | 5, 3.5 | good initial swilling. let down by gum
shot after no. 2. |
| steve | 2 | 4, 4.5 | pained expression of first soon rectified,
but tried to speed up proceedings by waving for swallow on no. 2. judges don't
like being told what to do. |
| me | 0 | 0, 0 | showing my age, sadly |
more tomorrow, god help us.
or this:
i went to the rocky outcrop on my own tonight. i sat on the farthest lounger from anywhere, lay down and stared at the black sky. i thought about how i should take my sketchbooks into work to remind myself that i can make stuff without computers (and it's stuff that looks more like i feel), that i should use my hands more, that i probably don't need a bigger, faster, flashier car, that i need to see more stars, to move my little world and all that's in it onwards, but more importantly, to not ask as many questions. i should listen more, be more tolerant and more colourful. i should be calmer.
maybe it's the surroundings, maybe it's the garlic prawn smell still fresh in my mind. the heat, the lack of routine. i wish london could turn it's streetlights off. i wish heads healed more quickly.
saturday 11th august
"i've got beer in my ear" says matt, face down on the floor next to my miniscule single bed after attempting a long-distance jump-land-roll-sleep manoeuvre that failed.
friday 10th august
it feels like i've been in pathos/pafos/paphos (the cypriots are clearly not known for consistency) weeks whereas i can actually count in hours. phrases evolving into sayings such as "hello, hello, hello?", "it's not a factor", " you absolute stroker/badger/---" i know already will remind me of being here. unique one-liners from matt, too, but i can't remember any apart from the "drinking this just gets ouzier and ouzier".
i have finished a book already. tom robbins is next - it came recommended by alison and as such i have great expectations. missing h after only 3 days speaks volumes. i find it strange how when under strange and unfamiliar situations the rest of your life and everything in it is seen from an almost existential perspective. i'm learning about a lot of things, i'm understanding more of why. some is telling me to slow down, withdraw and think a little bit first. how come i didn't know this already, i wonder?
it's 3.45am. they won't be back for hours and i have to decide between lounging around in bed, on the balcony or walking by the sea. my biggest worry is how long that cup of tea will stay hot. hey, it's no biggy.
"i really don't know why they were giggling at me"
"you ploughed yourself into the pool at 3am with all your clothes on, that's why."
"well, they weren't giggling and... urgh. it's all far too hard work"
"mate - if you talk to them you'll find your chances increase... er... arithmetically."
"yeah, but i've forgotten how to talk."
payday in a foreign familiar place. as the water tower pots pepper the catalyst shrugs toxic vapour it all seems so far away.
thursday 9th august
"what shall i wear tonight?"
"wear your dancin' shoes and your disco bra!"
"- but i've already go those on."
i picked up two scars today: one just behind my widow's peak (which i hate) and one underneath my chin, just along the jawbone. i'm not proud of myself - diving into a waist-deep pool at 5am, hands by my waist, despite b-boy telling me not to all day was not a good idea, not least for the fact that u have to spend a few days in dry convalescence. ironically, i now can't get my head wet in order to heal. damn.
wednesday 8th august
we saw a deep orange moonrise at 34,000 feet. within an hour of arriving we'd gone the wrong way, done agia napa, been arrested for speeding and bought some petrol. before we even reached our destination. "so, steve, it's more like mirror, windscreen wiper, manoeuvre than anything else, right?" and then we went to the police station.
that'll be 38 pounds, please. welcome to cyprus indeed.
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