Out of time, out of mind

Somebody rang my intercom around 9 pm, but I didn’t answer it. I assume it was a kid pranking the sad single people in these blocks. I guess we’d all do the same at that age. I remember having to visit a guitar teacher on a similar council estate when I was 14. I liked him, but the surroundings were pretty bleak, especially for a posh Forces brat living in a four bedroom detached house. One day, as I was about to turn into his building, a woman passed me with her small boy in tow. Absolutely unprovoked, the boy proceeded to kick my guitar as we crossed paths.

The mother said nothing.

Oh I had a little siesta after making dinner. I was quite tired, as I’d been active all afternoon. First the bike, then sweeping the kitchen floor, then chopping and stirring and such. Cooking is a lot more physically demanding than one would think. Anyway, I listened to the first Velvet Underground album in bed, missing a couple of tracks towards the end as I nodded off a little. I’ve been up since around 7 pm, having 2-cup cafeteria of coffee to fire me back up.

I’m just watching Fanny and Alexander. I think it’s the full miniseries version. I’m watching it in Swedish without the subtitles, but seem to be understanding what’s happening. As I always say about foreign films, there are only so many possible interactions that can occur between two human beings, so one can infer what’s going on from context.

I wonder how I would have looked in a sailor’s suit when I was little. I guess that kind of fashion for kids was about 100 years before my time.

I’ve been reading more about Russian history. I had no idea how young the country was. The west pretty much avoids addressing communist-related countries in schools and pop culture, so it’s nice to finally expand my view of human history in general. I understand how important Greece and Rome were to western society, but goodness are they dreary. It’s only interesting when a volcano fucking explodes and buries one of their towns.

Pray for Pompeii.

I feel bad for Alexei Romanov. Apart from living in obscene luxury, the poor boy never had it easy. Then he had to suffer the indignity of being murdered whilst confined to a wheelchair. You have to have a pretty cold heart to shoot a sick child who is unable to stand. I suppose he wouldn’t have naturally lived much longer anyway, and in a miserable physical condition, so perhaps he was spared a different kind of indignity. Sigh. It’s still sad though.

All this history research is helping my depression, of course. I find hiding away in ancient foreign lands rather therapeutic. Some days I wonder whether I was a temple harlot in a previous life, caring for the many gods in the Mesopotamian city of Uruk, five thousand years ago. Silly, huh? Perhaps one might call this hobby “denial”, but facing reality has never really worked for me. I’m a dreamer. I did terribly at school, mainly because I spent most of the time staring out the window having adventures in my head. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted - just to be left alone with my thoughts.

“Loud Phone Lady” has quietened down recently. I did wonder whether she’d actually moved out, but I can sometimes hear her voice. I’m pretty sure it’s the same person. Who knows, maybe she had issues with drink which made her so loud. I can relate. I think I’m an amazing singer when I’m hammered.

I’m wondering whether to have a takeaway tomorrow. I haven’t had one since my last drinking binge and I really fancy some Chinese starters. I also counted and, good golly, there are now seven portions of leftover homemade meals in the freezer. Pressure! Oh that’s a point, I’ve actually been craving booze a little today. It sort of helps put me off by reminding myself that, at some point during the inevitable 3-4 day blackout, I will find myself saying, without any irony at all, “How is this better?!”. As mentioned previously, I’ve not exactly banned myself from drinking, it just isn’t part of what I’m doing with my life at the moment. Exercise and cookery seem to be providing me with all the mental highs I need. Plus I’m enjoying playing guitar again, the desire for which had been alluding me for months.

Right, I best get back to this 5-hour Swedish snooze-fest.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!