Alasdair Watson

Apparrently so. Fin was complaining that I haven’t said anything in a day or two, so here’s something. The process of packing continues. All the quick jobs are done, now it’s the slow and time consuming stuff left to do. I’ve also discovered that almost all my shelves are very, very dusty.

I’m looking covetously at the office furnishings from Space2 again – I’m going to be slowly phasing out all my old furniture and replacing it with warmer wood tones over the next while – I’m tired of black ash, and I’m tired of bookshelves that cost a tenner and look like it. And besides, my new place is painted in whites, so the black’s going to look awfully stark…

Other than that, not a whole lot to report. New job starts Monday, so y’know, fear and apprehension, or something. Oh, I’m sure it’ll amuse people to know that there’s a dresscode that precludes wearing offensive t-shirts, so I’m going to have to go out any buy some more plain black T-shirts, because I don’t own very many t-shirts without some kind of slogan on them. Even if the slogans themselves aren’t offensive, I don’t want to push my luck. Not at first, anyway… :)

My flatmate Andrew now has a livejournal, which I urge you all to pay attention to, partly because it might make him say more things (or might frighten him off) and mostly because it’s bound to be funnier and more interesting than mine.

Depressing thought: once I move out, I will probably find out more about almost all my friends lives on-line than I do when I see them in person. The last few people in my life that I have more contact with face to face than digitally will no longer be resident in the same house.

And they’re about the only people I could put up with living with (or indeed could put with living with me), as well. I’m not planning to have flatmates ever again. Ah well. It’s the digital life for me…

I’ve got nothing better to do – my back and arms are killing me as a result of heavy lifting, and I’m halfway through packing to move in a week and a half, so most of my possesions are now in my parents garage (because there isn’t room in my current flat for the boxes of my stuff and my furniture) and all in all, this is just hassle I could do with out.

This had all better be worth it, is all I can say.

Think I’ve twigged why I’ve been tense – lack of excercise. Hadn’t been to the gym in nearly a week, so combined with a poor diet (not nearly enough fruit and veg last week) I was out of kilter. But I’m back from the gym, drinking a banana smoothie, stretched out on a sunny bed with The Primitives’ “Crash” playing loud, and I feel so much better…

I have a new flat sorted. Well, mostly – holding deposit paid, forms yet to be filled out, and extremely large cheques to be handed over before all the rest of it begins, but I have a place to move to barring force majeur, at least. Provisional plans say I’m moving in two weeks, away from Tooting, and off to scenic South Woodford. Now begins the horror that is moving…

There’s tension running up and down my back. My spine feels fucked. I am blaming this on too much booze and not enough exercise interfereing with my proper body chemistry. Well, that, and feeling stressed and irritable. I feel out of joint – dissatisfied with life. I can’t put my finger on why, though. It’s like there’s something missing, and I don’t know what it is.

I’ve got to be up at half eight tomorrow to keep an appointment to see a flat, so I shall go and sleep, and see if rest will cure this.

The last time I was able to keep these hours regularly, sitting at the keyboard at 1 am with a couple of hours work ahead of me, was many, many years ago. I used to take screen breaks every hour or so – I’d go out for a cigarette, take a walk, refresh myself, and then come back to work. I used to love walking up and down the road in the quiet at the dead of night, smoking and thinking. God, but I really, really want a cigarette right now.

Instead, I shall pour myself a whiskey, and get back to it.

I’m sitting here watching the sky fade over Tooting, a weird medley of bright pale blues and yellows shot through with long fingers of full night blue in the clouds, a grapefruit and rosemary candle burning, Tom Waits on the stereo. I’ve done nothing with my day. So it’s time to catch up on my mail, and then get on with a bit of work, I think. I can feel my body’s rythmns adjusting to the free time already. Without a job to get up for, I switch to my default cycle, which basically means sitting up to three in the morning at the computer, then reading for a bit, before getting to sleep in time to wake up at about 11am. It takes me about three of four days to fall into it, but by the end of the week, I’ll be back in a sleep pattern I like, one that will see me at my most productive. I always get more done after midnight. The words come more naturally, for no reason I can fathom…

But in the mean time, I’m just going to watch the light fade.

So I went and did something more interesting – a bit of short fiction that’s been kicking about my head for a while. Go here to read it

God, what a shitty looking day. Feeling weirdly drained, for which I balme poor diet over the last week or so. This will continue until tomorrow, when I can go shopping again (or possibly this evening, if it cheers up a bit). I suspect the weather is not unconnected to my new sunglasses, to be honest.

Saw Fin and Ciara’s band play last night, at The Cartoon. The gig was fun. I took quite a few photos most of which are dreadful, and a couple of short film clips, where the sound has come out appallingly, dammit. I’ll put some of the best on-line later in the week.

Today, I have written to the landlords confirming my intent to move out, and then looked about on-line at possible new places to go to. Woodford is looking like a pretty strong contender at the moment – it’s a bit further out than I would ideally like, but it’s a nice area, and looks fairly affordable.

This is all crushingly dull. I shall go and do something more interesting now.