Friday, 29 May 09

09:03
At this moment my eyes open and I am lying on my back.

I try to move my left arm but it is not there. Neither is my right arm. My legs too are prickly. There is no feeling.

These painkillers are so incredibly strong. I make a note-to-self to pack them for work.

09:54
I'm at West Hampstead tube station and the sun is out. There is a light breeze blowing and Sade is singing "coast to coast LA to Chigaco, Western Maine. Across the North and south to Key Largo..."

I pull out the bottle of water I carry with me at all times and drop another two Panadol Extra.

Necking painkillers at 10am. All I need is the cheap aftershave and poor taste in men and I'm Elizabeth Taylor.

10:12
At Bond Street Tube station and look...

It's that guy from the TV and radio who reviews movies and is, famously, a friend of Leonardo Di Caprio.

Yes it's weird. I know I shouldn't take other peoples' pictures without them knowing. But who knows...

Maybe we were traveling together?! Maybe I'm actually Leonardo Di Caprio.

11:34
Oh that's really really upsetting.

Did you know that they've cancelled Soho Pride this year? Seriously - that's like one of the highlights of the year.

I read about it on their website.

I bet you 2010 Soho Pride will be rained off too. Bets?

13:09
Ping! It's painkillers time. I take two.

14:21
I see this picture and am reassured that it is within reach. Not him, the look.

What will happen when I achieve it?

Of course it won't be good enough. Of course I will look in the mirror and see a great big fatty.

15:38
Because I am on pretty strong antibiotics I'm having to replenish all the bollocks in my stomach. For this task I am eating M&S Pro-biotic yoghurt.

These pots contain the most amount of carbs I have had in a week.

I have managed to ruin my digestive system to such an extent with Chris's bodybuilding diet that even the slightest hint of carbs and my whole system goes into some weird over-balance where I feel bloated and sick.

Do I care? Do I fuck... I am so close to having the stomach I've wanted for ages that nothing can stop it now.

There's still a large layer of horrible fat around the bottom two and they're not as ripped yet.

Do I care that you may not be impressed? Nah. My insecurities flew out of the window a long time ago.

Well, some of them did.

17:03
Lynda is leaving our team so we have gathered to drinking champagne and eat chocolate cake. I stand in the corner and nibble on my AnimalPak and drink water.

We all agree that having a wisdom tooth infected is pretty hideously painful.

95.8% of the time is not spent talking about me.

18:50
And we're standing outside Rupert Street in the warm evening with Nix, Nick and Harry.

I am spaced out on painkillers and antibiotics but it's great to be out in Soho on a beautiful Friday evening. I rate the general level of talent at around 6.8 out of ten.

19:16
I am standing at the bar trying to order some drinks but the barmen are all so slow and my mind is wandering.

I realise that in one week's time, exactly, I will be standing at another bar. This one at Beluga in Cape Town celebrating my 31st birthday.

(And cue memory lane...)

The reason I'm having it at Beluga is simply for old time's sake. Back in the day 2001 / 2002 a group of us would gather at Beluga every single Friday evening.

We'd be absolutely shit-faced by 8pm. It was common for the bar tab to run upwards of R10,000. And because we were so lucrative for them, they'd never kick us out.

Next Friday is a rematch. It will be pretty emotional after at least 8 years.

19:31
And back to Rupert Street in Soho.

21:04
I'm at the gym where Chris, who's duty manager for the evening, has set aside 30 minutes so we can play Destroy Bob's Biceps.

And that's what we do.

22:18
Leaving the gym and I am winked at by a Rolls-Royce Drophead Coupe.

I love you too, you thing of beauty.

23:16
At home I am listening to Robin Beck singing her one-hit wonder "First Time".

A thousand and one emotions whirl around but I don't know what they are and why they do so.

Maybe it's just because it's a melodramatic 80s-style ballad.

23:52
Is there someone out there who can sweep me off my feet please? Like, where the fuck are you already?

Thursday, 29 May 09

08:51
Awake to the first thing that I feel and that thing is _ _ _ _ *.
But we can't mention the "p" word.

It's like the scene in Death Becomes Her when the fat Helen Sharpe is in a psychiatric hospital and the leader of the group asks Helen what she wants to talk about and Helen says "Madeleine Ashton" and the whole room screams in agony.

"How many times do we have to listen to the same fucking story?!"

So today there will be no mention of _ _ _ _. My teeth are fabulous and they don't hurt.

* = pain.

09:49
Because today is going to be a good day, I decide to wear my happy T-shirt.

No, it's not gay. It's Topman.


10:56
On the Jubilee Line playing Solitaire on my iPhone. I know people are looking at my T-shirt like it's a gay one. It's not the gay flag for God's sake.

11:21
In less than a week I will be 31 years old.
Do you know what I think about this? I think nothing. What can I think? What is there to consider?

There is nothing I can undo. There is nothing I can change.

In the past I would have run, I would have panicked, I would have endured regret and remorse. Now I don't care.

I like it like this.

13:42
In Tesco buying ready-made grilled chicken.

14:19
At the dentist for the third time in two days. I am sick of this now.

16:31
"Hi David, it's Bob.

Listen, I was just calling to say thanks again for last weekend.

Yeah - this weekend is going to be difficult. Listen, I called because basically - I had a boyfriend - he's from Cape Town and about a month ago things went a little wrong and we parted ways.
But he contacted me again early this week to see what I was up to and we've agreed to meet and I think we're going to try and make something work again.

I'm sorry - I know I should have said something but I wasn't expecting him to ring. Everything's just been really shit - I've had a tooth infection and... please understand. It's not you, it's me.

Okay. Yeah, before things went wrong we'd been going out for quite some time. I would like to make it work again maybe.

I hope you understand.

No problem. Yep, and if I'm in the area and you're around then let's. Okay.

And listen, thanks again for plucking up the courage to ask me when you did. I was really flattered and I still am.

Er, bye."

Fuck, I am so going to hell but it was the only way.

When the animal is in your hand and you have the gun, you have to be brutal. The infection bit was honest at least.

16:37
Fuck, I really have just ruined someone's day. Fuck. Fuck. And they were probably looking forward to this weekend too. Fuck fuck. Fuckity.

16:50
I did think it through. In these situations you have to create an absolute. Saying "I don't think it's going to work" is wishy-washy because then the other person could say "well, do you want to try?"

The "my former long-term ex wants to give it another try" is good.

This is what I keep telling myself.

17:03
I need a former long-term ex. If I were to open auditions would you come?

18:50
On the Central Line. No-one asks for my number.

19:45
We learn the following things about Will.i.am.
He's 31. Until around two years ago he used to be an electrician in Oxford. Or a sparky, as he keeps calling it.

He's an expert in Jujitsu. He lives in Richmond with his brother.

He knows Cape Town because he had a friend who once came from there.

When he speaks about his "friend from Cape Town" there is a flicker in his eye. Or maybe it's just that he blinks.

Inside my lower gut there is a little spark too. No. Surely not?

20:14
Oh yeah, and Chris tells me that amongst the other personal trainers in the club, Will.i.am is known as Gloria. I don't get why.

21:21
I am totally in love with a song.

Sebastien Tellier's "Sexual Sportswear" off his album Sexuality.

There are elements of Wendy Carlos's work on the Clockwork Orange soundtrack in it, sounds that hark to early Kraftwerk and all mixed with his sort of Giorgio Moroder nu-electro beat. I absolutely love, love, love it.

It's like the pink spray-painted neon 80s never left us.

And it's more than seven minutes long. Epic.

Plus and. The music video is just as I imagined it would be, so you can get a taste before you steal it from Limewire download it from iTunes. Amazing.

(Buy it, don't steal.)

Oh yeah, and I wanted to say - doesn't the music video say "80s James Bond title sequence" to you? More loving it.

22:47
It is time for bed.

For bedtime I am going to imagine myself and my former long term ex in our bed with black satin sheets and pink neon lights as Sexual Sportswear throbs in the background.

I think you should consider auditioning.

Monday, 26 May 09

01:10
Holy shit. It feels like someone is using a potato peeler to drill into my jaw.

02:13
I am awake and in excrutiating pain. I think it's my wisdom tooth.

03:17
Still awake, in pain. Four Anadin tablets.

03:41
Still here.

04:46
Yep. More awakeness. More Anadin.

05:37
I am up. I am getting ready for work.

06:16
On the Jubilee Line and reminded of the line from the Sound of Music.

Something like, when God opens a window, somewhere he closes a door. Particularly one right in your face...

We are coming into Swiss Cottage station and the train slows suddenly.
I am standing in the area where the inter-leading carriage door is. It swings open and smacks me in the face.

My face and hands are full of blood.

Today really is going to be a Good Day.

22:09
So dearest, how was your day?

Well...

I went to work on about an hour's sleep.
One of wisdom teeth is infected
I got smacked in the face with a door on the Tube
The lady at the dentists plunged an injection into my gum
I have brushed my teeth about 17 times
Oh yeah, and I had to sit at my desk covered in blood.

Okay, so it's not quite the Passion of the Christ but still...

22:13
I want to carry on but I cannot concentrate. I cannot sit and watch the TV. I cannot read because my mouth is so fucking sore.

I have taken 2 Panadol Extra and they don't help. My hands are warm and my neck is relaxed. The pain in my mouth continues.

Sometime this morning, in the small hours I will wake up screaming and short of breath. That is when the pain is at its worst.

I don't know why the dentist never put me on antibiotics? I am going to go tomorrow and demand them.

And stronger painkillers too.

22:21
Why are the highs getting ever higher and the low getting so low they're practically only reachable by a turbo-charged elevator downwards.

To the person who's job it is in heaven to keep an eye out for Bob the Cox - please can we have it a little more steady? Like, less on the fucking accelerator and a little more on the brake.

One day we're dreaming of dates with hot Frenchies.
The next we're wearing sunglasses to hide our tears on the Central Line.

One day we're excited to see the stomach we always wanted in the mirror.
The next we're sitting in a pub in Kilburn necking bloody beer.

One day we find ourselves in a state of undress with an officer of the law who is more Captain Hulk than Keystone cop.
The next we're writhing in pain, necking paracetamol that isn't even 2.8% strong enough.

My life is like being stuck in the back of a car with a fucking learner driver.

One minute we're bunny-hopping and stalling at the traffic lights, the next we're doing 140 along the motorway with the top down.

22:41
Does having an event-free and easy life mean you're a boring person who everyone describes as crashingly dull?

Maybe one should stick with fast-slow-up-down-fucking-full-speed-no-speed...

I only say this because I've dropped another Panadol and everything is warm now

In a few hours I will wake up with shivers from the pain.

23:08
Take me away from this fucking crap already.

Sunday, 25 May 09

21:06
I put down the phone to Nix who I shared an epiphany with in Soho and am in an off-licence about 500 yards from home.

And what...?! Phwaor!

It's the undercover copper who was investigating the drive-by hammer assault and mugging last weekend. He is also in the store, like me, buying a 2 litre bottle of Evian plus a Red Bull.

I think to myself, "God, you really are fit in an-undercover-copper-with-an-amazing-body-in-tight-jeans-kind-of-Michael Douglas-in-Basic Instinct way.

Dark hair. Dark blue Nike trainers. A sturdy brown belt. Confidence.

He has on a Met Police polo shirt that is open at the top. You can see the two blocks that make up the top of his pecs, leading to the middle groove which extends down beyond the white buttons.

I make a note to myself to look up what I wrote about him on Twitter when he appeared at the crime scene last weekend.

A block. With a chest. And forearms. Ohmygod. I am looking at his neck. That alone is enough.

He notices me standing next to him to pay. He speaks, he says. "Oh, hey..."

And I don't know what words come out my mouth but we establish that the mugging is (not allowed to be written about), he's working overnight in cop shop up the road.

He's come early to get some paperwork done. It's going to be a long night. Yeah, loads of filling out forms. It's boring but has to be done.

I think the words I say are "well, yeah with my housemate as you know - but she's in Bali at the moment."

On or around 22:37

"Yeah, hold on while I get some from the downstairs loo..."



23:07
I don't really have much else to add.

Sundate... etc.

11:09
The sound is of the front door closing which is the sweetest sound I have heard in a long time.

This is the sound that wakes me up.

This isn't because there was someone in my bed who has now left to do the walk of shame, this is because the sound of the front door closing is the sound of Sally going on holiday to Bali.

I run to try and peak out of the window to make sure that she is getting into a cab for Paddington.

Bliss.

11:11
Oh god, I'm fucking hungover. How could I have let this happen?

11:47
In the gym preparing to run. This, I gauge, is the greatest way to work off a hangover.

12:02
I am running in the gym.

12:21
I am finished running in the gym.

12:41
Chris and I are discussing our session next Wednesday. We agree to meet at 5pm and he says I should not eat at least two hours before because otherwise I'll puke.

This is the highest level of excitement-scared I have felt in around 4 days, 7 hours.

13:28
On the Bakerloo Line, travelling to Piccadilly Circus where I plan to alight and then walk up Shaftesbury Avenue and into Soho.

This is where I'm going to meet David, the guy who asked for my number on the Central Line.

13:49
David phones and I tell him I'm standing between the two signs that say Trashy Lingerie and Cheap Viagra.

14:12
We're sitting in Balans restaurant against the wall with the mirrors on it. I tell him that I don't drink and we order a bottle of sparkling water.

15:21
Who is this person sitting opposite me? Why am I listening to them as they speak? Am I interested in their story?

Have I actually heard anything they've said in the last 70 minutes?

15:47
I find a quiet bench in Soho Square to sit on. A quiet bench in Soho Square means one away from the three old homeless men shouting at each other.

The sun is shining and the light is glinting in the sprinkler. All around there are people sitting on the grass.

Packs of gays are tanning without shirts on. Some of them shouldn't be.

There are other people lying down, resting their heads on each other. Some are holding hands.

15:59
A text arrives from David.

"Hi. Good to get to know you a little more. Would like to do it again. x"

I don't text back.

But maybe I should pay it forward, for my own sake.

Maybe every one of us is waiting for a text from someone who we hope will respond.

16:04
"Thanks for the message, let's chat later this week."

And so I have paid it forward.

But the ground doesn't open up and there isn't a massive cosmic thank you kiss planted on my forehead.

Instead Alanis reaches the chorus of the song she's singing to me on my iPod.

These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence

One step, one prayer
I soldier on
And everything becomes a little too bright or I have something stuck in my eyes because I have to put my sunglasses on again.

16:28
On the Central Line, I am travelling home.

Friday, 22 May 09

07:28
In the gym running and still there is no Will.i.am.

There is only one thing for it as I am running, alone on the treadmill. The tears are mistaken for sweat. You can only try to exercise away the pain.

"Cradle me, just like the moon
My heart is full it's breaking soon
Hold me close 'cause I'm the one
Burning brighter than the sun.

You don't even need to try
To lie about your other life
Please remind me once again
How we were ever more than friends?"
(The Cedric Gervais remix is the one that elevates this song to a classic.)

09:02
I'm at Hampstead Police Station. I have to offer the policeman a pen because his isn't working.

Apparently I'm not supposed to talk about this.

10:18
I'm at work and everyone is very excited.

This is because we are doing some off-site work (off-site means in another part of the building) and today our office is next to the Beautiful People office.

Did you ever see it? It was a drama / comedy on BBC Two about a guy who - er - well, it was about gays and there were some cute ones in it.

Gary was one of the cute gays - he's the one in the green T-shirt in this picture...

Of course I don't have a clue who he is because I live in London, a massive city where tens of thousands of gays call it home so there is no chance that I would have ever maybe stood half naked next to Gary in Salvation, for example.

However, sadly, as much as I insist that we leave the door open for the air to circulate (for me to keep an eye on the corridor) no cute gays walk past.

In fact no-one walks past at all. Maybe the office is abandoned and they forgot to take down the posters.


11:52
This is like the 34th time* I've logged on to do this today but it is imperative.

You can choose the seat you want to sit in on the airplane to Johannesburg and someone is following me around the cabin.

Wherever I put my purple marker, a few minutes later the seat to me becomes taken. The red seats are empty, the grey ones taken.

I've already moved from 18A to 19A to 20A to 21A and 18K.

I have social problems sitting next to strangers on airplanes. I overcome this with valium / reading obscene literature.

* = over-exaggeration.

14:21
I feel massively satisfied because I have sorted and logged all of these tapes (I was supposed to have done this in December).

I ask for a pat on the head. I get nothing.

19:25
Like me, there is a guy on the Tube playing Flight Control. Here is a picture to prove it...



20:09
It's a text from Nix: "I love and hate the Box in equal measure."

20:12
I text Nix back: "Nix, you know what he looks like, he said hello to me while we were sitting at Balans last Sunday, so if you see You Know Who please tell him I'm at home crying and pining for him to call me."

This is partially true because I am not at home.

20:37
I am now at home.

20:47
Can I show you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone or say anything?

Okay... I might rip it down again but here...

They're small and I have added some blue crap to distract attention from them but that's me.

That's my stomach. And no I haven't drawn any lines in or anything.

I am still not looking like I want to look. But then again, it's never going to be perfect.

That's the problem. Perfection is just not possible.

That's my lesson for today.

Thursday, 22 May 09

07:21
Smack iPhone to stop alarm. God it's annoying.

07:52
In the gym and there's no Will.i.am. Where is he? The pain of not seeing him makes my heart ache. This is the only reason I endure this hell.

07:57
I am running on the treadmill and Beyonce is singing to me...

Ring the alarm, I've been through this too long
But I'll be damned if I see another chick on your arm
But these words are empty because there is no Will.i.am wandering past and saying a cheery hello. That smile. Those pecs under his gym costume.

I am empty. Outside the sweat runs down but inside I am engulfed with tears.

08:21
Run finished, drink water and I do the Big Burp. Every day this gets louder and louder, like a neanderthal I am claiming by big fuck-off fitness trophy.

08:50
And the Jubilee Line is making its way to Bond Street and I am officially a bag lady.

I didn't want to drag the tog bag to work and then to the gym again so I've left it in the locker. But I forgot my man bag at home so I have all my possessions in a Sainsbury's bag.

Clockwise from top.

A piece of paper. This is in fact a council tax bill I need to pay.
An iPhone.
My wallet.
My iPod.
My fatburner pills (that work because Chris told me they do)
My £10 sunglasses from Topman.
My cord for something (the camera I think).

10:11
Everybody's at work and I am too and I am at my desk and all around me there are people diligently doing their jobs so well.

I sit and look around at our office. And in my head I can hear the chorus of men singing "your disco needs you!"

And I'm imagining the mirror balls that would descend from the ceiling as colleagues to the left stand up and pull out their red feather boas.

Over on the right, two of the offline editors spin around on their chairs chanting "your disco needs you!"

All of us in the middle are stood up and slowly walking forward.. "so let's dance through all of this - war is over for a bit...!"

And from down the stairs come the runners. In blue feathers, sequined high heals and sunglasses. And they step down and kick!

"Your disco needs you!"

A huge chorus has gathered in the middle of the room as the desks all ascend into the ceiling, the lights and strobes are flashing and a huge space has formed.

And we're all singing... "Your disco needs you!" and there are rows of colleagues - singing and chanting and raising their hands in the air...

A sea of glitter, lights and sequins.

I am attached to wires and with the elegance of a swam I am being raised up... above the chorus, throwing gold dust all over them and sprinkling magic.

Vous êtes jamais seuls
Vous savez ce qu'il faut faire
Ne laissez pas tomber votre nation
La disco a besoin de vous
And the entire cast below looks up to me - expectantly, longing for me to come back down onto the stage and join them in the final denouement...

"Your disco needs you!"
"Your disco needs you!"

And Sally is doing the screechy high part as the entire office raises their hands to the ceiling singing at the top of their lungs... "your discooooo neeeeeeeeeeeeds YOU!"

10:14
Sam is on the phone. Apparently they're waiting for me in Edit 14.

13:19
In All Saints in Westfield considering their leather jackets.

15:19
A colleague and I are having a disagreement. The crux is that he wants to get something checked with the lawyer which would delay us getting it finished.

I just want to get it finished so we reach a compromise.

I say we agree to publish the contentious material and if we get sued, I will as penance, run the entire length of this road without any clothes on.

And you're welcome to come and watch and don't panic. It's a long road.



19:12
And hey presto! We're back at the gym.

The large amount of money that I hand over to Chris who in return makes me feel like shit is worth it. But tonight it has doubled in value.

This is because Chris has chosen to be indiscreet. So.

Do you want some great gossip about someone you don't know but could relate to?

Okay. So there was this personal trainer at the gym who was quite hot but he left. I always wandered why he left so suddenly. Well...

It turns out that he started working out with one of his clients. Except the client was a gay and fell in love with this personal trainer.

And no-one can say for certain what happened but bunches of flowers started to arrive for the personal trainer.

And then it was presents like shoes and things. And the personal trainer was saying to everyone "but nothing happened, I'm straight, this guy is like bombarding me..."

And then of course there was Facebook and friends were made and the. next. thing! The guy pitched up at the personal trainer's flat!

Are you loving this or what?! Amazing.

Anyway. That's why the personal trainer has been relocated to another gym and this gym user has been given an ASBO and banned from going within a mile of the personal trainer and 500 feet from our gym!

Loony-tunes! Don't. You. Love. It? The best story in ages. I don't know if this can be beaten.

21:45
At home.

22:02

{I asked for something here and then got it.}

22:12
Oh fuck. Just realised I haven't paid the bloody council tax bill I had in my packet.

23:09
Do you remember this guy...? The boy on the left in Cape Town?

I get a message from him. He calls me Bobbington.

He says he can't wait to see me so that we can go drinking. I say it's only 12 days away.

I don't say 'I can't wait to see you too.' That would just be weird.

Wed, 20 May 09

07:15
I'm awake.

07:16
And I'm up.

07:33
And I'm out of the house on the way to the gym and today is going to be a Good Day. To celebrate the impending Good Day that is going to occur, I am listening to "Footloose".

07:34
Scratch that. It is "Good Morning Baltimore" from the Hairspray soundtrack.

08:01
We have a brand new personal trainer in our gym. His name is Will. Chris introduces me to him.

Will.i.am.is.hot. and while I am running Will.i.am. wanders past and says hello. I nearly loose my footing and go skidding off the back of the treadmill.

Note to Bobby: Stop being a fucking girl. Thanks.

10:51
I am at work and I want to put my protein shakes in the fridge near our desks and it's full of food and packets. But.

It's always full of packets and stuff. This confuses me greatly so I pull out a sandwich and see that it expired in December 2008.

Three words: dis. gus. ting.

So I grabbed the camera and went creative... Do you wanna see the shit in the fridge in the office?

Hold your nose and look at this.

I sent it around to as many people as possible. Dirty bastards.

13:21
I go upstairs to find Anna for two reasons.

Firstly we have to gossip about Raymond who's over from our unit in New York and everyone is perving over Raymond. Anna is not there which distresses me greatly.

(Oh yeah, Raymond is French Canadian so you say "Rey-mon...")

Secondly Anna and I have to go to Westfield to bury my heart that I ripped out some days ago, I think!?

15:21
Rey-mon wears a lot of aftershave. And Rey-mon has a Macbook Pro and an iPhone and Rey-mon wears meedja glasses and a grey cardigan.

I hate him. It's very difficult to tell if these guys are gay.

They're the kind of straight men who would consider having bum sex with another man as an act of rebellion against societal norms and standards.

Be very careful of straight men who use the word hetero-normative. Rey-mon seems like that kind of guy.

18:56
I'd like, if I may, to draw your attention to a gentleman on the Jubilee Line who is holding a bunch of flowers.

Now, If he was celebrating a wedding anniversary or birthday he would have bought them for his birdy in the morning.

So is he
1/ Angling for sex?
2/ Apologising for something?

The conundrum entertains my mind as we travel north from Baker Street.

Opera music entertains my ears. Specifically Libiamo ne'lieti calici from La Traviata. (It's the Drinking Song which you'd recognise if you heard it.)

18:58
Do you want me to tell you what I'm thinking about?

Okay, when I used to live in Cape Town I hooked up with a man who was a guy. And this guy who wasn't that old but was an opera singer.

He was early 30s and he did not look like Pavarotti. He's famous in South Africa you know.

Anyway. I said I would only consider interactions with him if he sang the song from the Cornetto advert (O sole mio) for me. And he did it at full pelt.

18:59
And then there was the - oh god - I wonder whatever happened to er...?

Basically I went to an all-boys school and I ended up hooking up with the art teacher from the rival school.

He was also very well known in the art world - and was, at the time, very very attractive. Like wow.

Have ever tried to make a list of all of your interactions?

19:01
And I remember an event once I was invited to.

It was an auction at a very prestigious wine estate on the outskirts of Cape Town and ... one of the cellar masters was extremely hot and recently graduated from agricultural school.

It was in his office and bla bla...

I'm not going to go on with this. Thank god the train has arrived at Finchley Road.

20:21
More gym and no Will.i.am.

21:51
There are 13 days and 23 hours until I fly to Cape Town.

23:36


(Beware, this bit of audio has a word that starts with "c" at the end of it...)

23:41
And on and on it goes...

Monday, 18 May 09

10:21

10:43
I am on the Jubilee Line and the train driver tells everyone there is a problem at Ooh-est Um (West Ham). And so we're sat in the middle of nowhere but do we mind? Do we hell!

Please look at the beast that is sharing this end of the carriage with me...

I don't think you get the full scale of just how enormous this guy is.

So to help you, I have devised a scientifically accurate diagram which shows in exact detail why wet spots were appearing in my Bikkembergs.

I am represented by the blue guy on the left. He is a granite-sized block of pure muscle power.

God is evident on the Jubilee Line.

11:02
A voice mail arrives.

"Hi, this is a message for Bobby. It's David. You've got a missed call from me now so you've got my number. I really hope to hear from you - oh yeah - we met on the Tube. Okay, bye."

I am going to have to meet him. It's the polite thing to do. Coffee? Tea? Sex?

Just because you meet someone for coffee doesn't mean you're going to be forced to walk down the aisle with them in six weeks' time.

(This is me talking to myself, you know this already.)

11:32
In the gym. Nothing has changed. I work out. I do chest. The end.

13:46
On 3 June I will be at Heathrow Terminal 3 preparing to board a flight to Johannesburg and then onto Cape Town where I will stay for 11 days and during that time, spend my birthday with friends and family.

At this moment I have booked that flight.

13:14
Now slightly dreading holiday to Cape Town. It always ends in tears.

Specifically on the flight from Cape Town back to London. It has to be different this time.

I will insulate myself against feeling anything for anyone. Wearing your heart on your sleeve sucks. I wish mine had been sewn somewhere like the underside of my sock.

Maybe I should get a blade, tear my heart out and bury it under Westfield shopping centre.

16:18
I'm trying not to feel anything so I don't know what's supposed to go here.

19:47
This fucking no-carbs, no sugar, no fucking normal food diet is just absolutely fucking killing me.

This is dinner...

Smoked fucking salmon and dry chicken - the good stuff with no water in it.

And that's it. Grilled chicken and smoked salmon. And sometimes turkey breast or dry tuna. A protein shake if I'm lucky.

I don't know why I'm doing this. Why?

Oh yeah, because I'm paying Chris and exorbitant amount of money to treat me as badly as he can. It will be worth it.

If I have a sixpack I will be liked. I will be popular. I will be understood. I will be tolerated. I will have choice.

People will want to flock to be my friend on Facebook.

20:21
You know who I'm thinking about.

Come on, for God's sake. It's Monday. That was Saturday. It's time to move on.

21:23
So I'm on the phone to David from the Central Line and he seems very excited. I agree to see him on Sunday afternoon in Soho.

It feels like I've made someone's day.

I know what this feels like because someone made my week the weekend before last when I got a text saying "Hi Bobby, nice to meet u last night. I'd like to see you again! Fx"

Right. I am imposing a ban on any mention of Francois. I will cross that bridge when or if I get the chance to.

I need something to occupy my time.

22:03
I am grading all of the more than 8,000 songs on iTunes.

The song with the highest award and the most plays is Sia's "The Girl You Lost To Cocaine."

The only song I have awarded one star but have played the most is Madonna's "Candy Store".

22:07
Tomorrow I have filled the day with as much activity as possible.

Lunch with Lizzi in Islington, cinema with Katie and I say to Chris I want to do a session of arms that will destroy them.

Just keep busy, busy, busy.

I really can't believe that someone has managed to crowbar their way into my emotions.

How the hell did I let this happen?

Like, enough already.

Okay, new week slightly less than fresh start. Tomorrow will be different, I swear...

It's Sunday, more bla...

00:31
I'm at Oxford Circus to change for the Bakerloo Line and I'm the last one there and I'm wandering around and the trains have gone and the station is empty.

Central London, Saturday night and feeling like shit. Upset and a little drunk.

When you've had a seriously crap day and then sealed it off by being rude to one of the nicest guys you've met in a long time - there's only one thing to do...

Make the next day even worse, which is what I do.

01:15
Why, oh why have I come to the Shadow Lounge? I just don't get it. I hate the place. Why am I here?

The place is dark and the music is awful. Why is the place so dark?

01:37
I turn down the offer of a drink.

01:38
I leave.

??:??
I wake up on the nightbus somewhere in fucking Wembley.

I get off, stumble around and wait for another nightbus in the opposite direction. This is because fucking cab-find-thing on the iPhone doesn't work.

04:??
Finally home. I know it's this time because I remember looking at the clock on my phone when I fell into bed.

10:14
I wake up and the rain is pouring outside and I feel like shit, physically and emotionally.

10:48
I phone Francois's phone to see if anyone answers it. It's disconnected.

I cannot believe that I actually thought he'd hidden it. And I can't believe I suggested it. I am such. a. fucking. idiot.

11:02
A text arrives from a friend. Their evening was obviously far more enjoyable than mine...

"Met a ...guy who escorted me to his house. He had a disturbingly big cock. I am not a size queen and I rarely divulge cock size but seriously. I was in shock. I still am."

(Apologies to You Know Who You Are that I've just shared that with most of the gays in London and around the world.)

12:05
I have to go to work. I am hungover and I haven't eaten. I realise I haven't been to gym since Thursday.

12:39
I am on the Central Line and we're leaving Oxford Circus heading towards White City. I'm standing in the area where the double-doors are.

There's a man standing in the opposite corner in a red T-shirt and black leather jacket. He is looking at me.

He's my height, black hair and I would say is middle 30s? He is tanned and it appears is quite worked out.

Every time I glance at him he's looking at me.

12:47
We arrive at Queensway and the tube doors open. He takes the two steps towards me...

"Hi, I really have never done this before but would you take great offence if I asked for your number?"

There is a pause. I go um.

"Oh my god, you're not gay, I'm so sorry..."

I tell him he's wrong. He pulls out his phone to take my digits, I burst into tears.

Hungover. Tired. Self esteem at zero. Still upset by the night before.

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I'm just really tired, I'm having a shit time but I'm really flattered."

I give him my number. He's South African, from Johannesburg. He works in HR. His name is David.

We chat.

12:49
He gets off at Holland Park.

I moaned the other day about people who wear sunglasses on the Tube. Days later I am doing exactly that.

12:50
I am standing alone in the bottom of the carriage. All of the nonsense from the last 24 hours decides to re-emerge to say hello.

That hammer attack. That amazing guy I insinuated was a liar. That fuck up I made about the phone. That guy at the Widow Lounge who I said no to. That fucking nightbus I fell asleep on.

It all comes out. Crying on the tube is so crap.

13:00
At work. Shit.

15:46
I e-mail Francois asking to see him again when he returns from Paris. I will be excited if he wants to but understand if he doesn't. I really hope he will.

16:...

I can't be bothered with his weekend any more.

New week, fresh start.

Saturbla... bla...

09:32
And we're up.

09:37
Wondering what today will bring? I know not but it'll probably be slightly dull.

At least there is a date tonight with Francois which means it can't be that bad.
Time to shop.

10:04
Do you want to see something revolting?

Look, dead and rotten rat on the tracks at Finchley Road tube station. Now imagine licking that!

Urgh. The thought has actually made me feel a little ill.


10:42
Hello and welcome to the Apple Store, Regent Street!



11:13
In the Waterstones on Piccadilly.

Yep, this made me do a double-take as well...



11:27
Am thumbing through the GT magazine and if you've been to the Waterstones I'm in, you'll know (maybe) that the Mills & Boon section is right next to the LGBT section. Please see evidence of this...

Suddenly, there's a gasp and a short intake of breath behind me.

I turn around and some poor dear who's probably pushing 80 obviously thinks that her beloved Mills & Boon are going for a slightly more diverse audience.

Someone has put Lesbian Kama Sutra amongst the rather more subdued novels of romance and dashing gentlemen from the country.

This amuses me.

12:02
In Armani Exchange and I buy the sweater I first saw in Westfield. In case you care - it's here...

14:01
Back home and snooze time.

16:00
Wake up time.

17:07
Am standing at the window and hear some commotion out to the left. I turn and see a guy with a black cap on grabbing at this woman's handbag.

The woman's friend is standing screaming and at first I don't realise what I am witnessing.

The man has a hammer which he is wielding above the woman whose bag he is pulling at.

It appears he hits her on the arm with the hammer and she lets go of the bag.

He runs across the road to a posh Mercedes, jumps in the passenger side and it speeds off.

I remember the registration plate: LX05SGF.

17:07
I shout out of the window, still in disbelief, asking the woman if she's just been mugged?

17:08
I offer her and her friend tea with lots of sugar but they're okay. And they only live two doors down. Attacked on your doorstep. That's a bit shit.

17:17
The police have arrived. Boy, have they arrived. Three cars, two motorbikes and four men in two unmarked police cars.

The car is stolen. The registration is fake. There have been at least two other drive-by muggings.

Surely today can't get any worse.

19:56
In a cab heading for Soho where I'm going to meet Francois for what we're calling a date. I am a little nervous. On edge is a better way to describe it.

20:07
Francois is upstairs. He is just so lovely. We are drinking white wine from Australia.

21:27
Francois has lost his phone which is incredibly important because it's a work phone. Tomorrow he has to travel to Paris for work and so he is understandably upset.

22:43
We're outside and I'm thinking something ridiculous and I should not have said it but I have a problem in that I engage my mouth before my brain.

"Look, if you want to cut this short then I understand but I just want to know if you've really lost it?"

Gulp. Fuck. That's bad. Fuck fuck fuck. Why the cock-sucking fuck did I say that? Shit.

And on a day that has been the shittiest for a very long time, we have officially reached the lowest point.

Instead of trying to help I have been a cynical arsehole and have accused him of basically telling a massive fib to get out of meeting me.

A guy who probably has 10,000 people he'd rather be seeing has instead given up his Saturday night to endure my nasty accusations.

Sometimes I really only have myself to blame.

This. is. bad. Really. really. bad.

22:46
I persuade him that I'm sorry and I really am. We go inside to have a drink.

Still though, I think I fucked it up.

23:50
He needs to get home because he has to be up early for work so we're on the last Tube home.

I have travelled with him to Bank station but I should have gone in the opposite direction.

I think this is because I didn't want to say good-bye. Part of it is because I'm still really sorry for what I said.

I can't apologise again because it will look stupid.

We are standing near the doors and the carriage is quite full. I quietly reach out and hold his hand. He holds mine.

Maybe I didn't fuck it up that much. Or maybe he's just being polite. (There's that bloody cynicism again...)

On the platform we say good-bye.

I really want to see him again.

Back on the Tube and heading to Oxford Circus deflated and upset.

Nice guys go with other nice guys. Not jaded and cynical bastards like me.

Thursday, 14 May 09

10:36
It dawns on me that the reason I think that the days don't have enough hours in them is probably because this is the time that I am surfacing.

Even pensioners are up before this but do you know what? Fuck it.

Today is a special day because it's Body Assessment Day at the gym with Chris. This is a self-imposed punishment brought on by my eternal desire to look good naked.

This desire only increases as the days plod ever on.

That's the cruelty of age. As my hair thins, my looks wrinkle and my humour becomes ever more cynical, having a good body is the only trick I have left.

One day when you're my age you'll know how it feels.

11:18
In Sainsbury's there are two old biddys standing gormlessly in the toiletries aisle.

"Sorry Sir, would you mind - it's just that we can't reach..." No problem.

One day I will be the old crank in the Sainsbury's with my push cart and an inability to reach the loo roll on the top shelf.

11:23
I decide to purchase a copy of Attitude magazine because I haven't done so for years. It is particularly unrelated to the fact that it's the "Naked Issue".

11:38
Back home and open the Attitude at this page for a cursory glance...

Someone really needs to tell the homos that having a great body isn't the be-all and end-all.

Er.

12:14
You probably won't remember this but yesterday I had a whinge about the fact that the latest Freemasons single is available on YouTube except you can't buy it until June 20th.

Well, I wrote to the band's record label asking why they were inadvertantly encouraging people to download the song illegally by not releasing it and you won't believe it but! The manager wrote back.

Basically. Radio 1 well, don't get me regurgitate everything he's written. Here's what he said:

"In order for Radio 1 (who are vital to the success of almost any artist) to play this record they have to be convinced it will be a hit record. In order to have a hit record you have to build up enough momentum and interest in the record so that when it is released it has as high a chart entry as possible. If for instance the record was available now the sales would be very low because the majority of people haven't yet heard it. So we would for instance enter the chart at 150 - this in turn would make Radio 1 doubt that the record is going to be a hit and so would stop playing it. It's crazy but that's how the radio industry works, and without radio play we are unable to sell the record."

How bad is that? Basically BBC Radio 1 has a stranglehold on the music industry.

Anyway. How nice that the boss wrote back. Do you think Madonna's manager would respond to an email the next day? Like hell he would.

So support Freemasons (how wrong does that sound?) and buy the song on June 20th and screw Radio 1. Although I shouldn't really say that.

12:51
Doing a whole bunch of washing although you'd never be able to tell...

Washing clothes has to be one of the most dull things in the entire world.

13:54
Fuck, it's nearly snooze time.

15:42
Right. Off to gym for Assessment with Chris.

16:15
Oh shit. I have the wrong day. It's on Tuesday. I don't know how I got this wrong. It must be me losing my mind.
And cue Liza Minnelli.

16:58
Arms check! Now abs and for this part of the experience I have included a handy abs guide which you will find so easy to follow.

And being such the nice gay that I am, I have timed it to that new Freemasons song... so you can sing along while you're doing it. Ready? Go!

First up baby and push ups. One, two...

"And with each step...I will forget..." (push push) "Forget all those memories of you..."

Now on your back and crunch it ya'bastards....

"Heartbreak make me a dancer, dancer... DJ give me the answer, answer..."

(Crunch, crunch)

"Love stop getting me down, down, down..."

"Heartbreak make me a dancer, dancer..."

(Squeeze it bitches...)

"Keep my heart beating faster..."

"Love stop bringing me down, down, down..."

(And more push-ups)

Ohmygod. Did you like totally feel that?

Now repeat it at least 37 times until you cry.

21:47
I agreed to something and as the time has passed I have come to regret what I initially said but I have passed the point of no return to go back on what I said I would do.

(Here is that long sentence in visual precis:
agree <----- time lapse -----> regret agreeing...)

I'm sitting wondering why I should be at an airport in two weeks' time to get onto an airplane and fly to Cape Town. It has come time to book the ticket and I cannot do it.

But I also cannot phone up my mum and dad two weeks before they're looking forward to seeing me and say "I really can't be bothered..."

But.
I cannot be bothered with paying hundreds for a ticket.
I cannot be bothered with sitting on an airplane for at least 24 hours.
I cannot be bothered to navigate Johannesburg International Airport - roundly considered to be an experience as close to what it was like to be in Abu Ghraib.
I cannot be bothered to get to Cape Town in the winter.

All life is shit and if you avoid doing anything then it saves you from disappointment. Life is not about getting things done or achieving anything. It is simply about managing disappointment.

People get into relationships and work hard and do nice things only to steer themselves clear from the abyss of disappointment. But in the end it will creep up on everyone.

Look how life ends - everyone dressed in black, wailing in front of a wooden box and Celine Dion bleating in the background.

Bla bla. I can't even be bothered to type any more.

22:17
And this is my other issue.

I can't decide which is the less painful option...

Knowing that something isn't going to work out but doing it anyway and then managing the disappointment.
or
Not doing something because you knew it wasn't going to work and enjoying the possibility of what might have been.

Experience vs ignorance. I have less than 24 hours to make a decision.

22:35
I'm thinking about buying a house in the Outer Hebrides and moving there to become a hermit and never speaking to anyone again.

I see Savills has this place in Oban on the market for £1,4m.

You fancy going halves?

Wed, 13 May 09

09:31

11:46
Urgh. I am in a glass house and I am not going to throw stones but.

There is a time and a place for having a wank in the showers at the gym. Anytime before noon is not the right time.

I have finished my run, am wrapped in a towel and head on into the showers. There, in the third stall on the left, is the most awful site.

A man, who could have not been younger than 75 years old, is stood with one hand holding onto the glass divider and the other yanking his fun gun.

The showers in our gym are automatic (it's very posh) and the one in his stall had turned off. So he wasn't even pretending to have a shower and then whoops... accidently the hot water makes his mayonnaise pistol stand erect.

Instead he was just stood there, his vomit rod out and waiting for a trick.

I went and showered in the furtherest stall possible but on the way out, he was still there.

Instead of leaving I stood and stared. I guess for a very brief moment he must have thought that his persistence had paid off.

But then, with the greatest amount of disdain I could muster I, at the top of my voice, boomed "that's really inappropriate!"

For one brief moment I was "Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells."

He squirreled back into the stall and I saw him reach around to grab his towel. I left.

But then it occurred to me how, maybe what I did was a little inappropriate.

If he'd been 28 years old, with a great body and a killer smile would I have done the same thing? Definitely not.

Was I rude to him because of what he was doing or because I thought someone of his age shouldn't be doing that? I'm ashamed to say it's the latter.

13:29
In Sainsbury's. A crashingly tedious and monumentally dull experience. If you really want to know then it was a few tins of tuna and some spinach in a bag. And other stuff.


15:47
I'm very confused.

This is the album artwork...

You can watch the music video and hear the song in broadcast quality here...

But for some ridiculous and bizarre reason the song is only being released as a download on 20 June. Why the wait?

And what do you think anyone who listens to the song and likes it, is going to do?

Wait until 20 June? Will they fuck. A quick Google search will take you to an illegal site where you can download the tune.

And yet it is the record companies who whinge about how piracy is killing music.

Well if that is so then why the fuck are they withholding the release of single by six weeks only to send fans off to download the track illegally?

I don't get it.

For an industry that pretends to be ahead of the curve, this kind of decision is very fucking antiquated.

Perhaps we should start some internet campaign to get the record company to release the song earlier.

Every day that it's withheld is another day that the record company loses money as punters download it illegally.

The song is finished, the music video's done. I don't understand why we're not allowed to buy it!? It's not a bottle of bloody wine that needs to age.

Of course I am NOT suggesting you do anything illegal, I am merely pointing how ridiculous the situation is.

And besides, I want to listen to the bloody song on my iPod in the gym. It fucking rocks and you know how much I love The Freemasons.

I have e-mailed the address on the Freemasons' Myspace page and the address for Loaded Records but am not holding my breath.

If you want to e-mail the bosses at Loaded Records and tell them to get their act together and drag themselves into the 21st century do so.

E-mail: mail@loadedrecords.com

(Please ignore these, they're tags to push what I've written to the top of any Google search...)
Freemasons Freemasons The Freemasons Brighton Loaded Records Sophie Ellis Bextor Sophie Ellis Bextor Heartbreak (Make Me A Dancer) MP3 June 20 release single single single CD download Freemasons Unmixed Shakedown Loaded Records freemasons loadedrecords

17:53
Holy moly!


18:36
This morning it was cardio and so I am back at the gym for back and shoulders.

19:51
The showers are empty.

21:51
I think I am the only person in the whole of the Great Britains that isn't watching the Apprentice.

22:16
Ping! An e-mail arrives.
Some guys from school want to have a reunion in London.

I don't know how auspicious a 13 year school reunion is but the idea sounds, well...

Can I really be bothered to dredge up all those emotions from 13 years ago again?

It's uncanny how a school reunion is much like a sex party. On the surface it seems fun and intriguing gathering of like-minded people.

Dig a little deeper and you realise that it's actually all rather hollow and empty and everyone's there for one thing, in the case of a reunion, it's to show off.

Er, much like a sex party.

Which is why, if we do have a reunion I will only go on the condition that partners are allowed.

That should give the bastards something to talk about...

Tuesday, 12 May 09

6:00
What the fuck time is this? Fuck, time for work.

6:22
Pet hate no. 18,825,427: Sunglasses on the tube...

Why?! It's fucking 6:30 in the morning. We all look like shit.

And we're 100 feet underground. The sun hasn't shone at this level since terrdactyls were dropping jurassic shit on the Flintstone's wooden car.

Take. Them. Off. Tosser.

09:34
For the record I just thought I should let you know that I do not earn £92,000 a year.
It's obviously far more*.

* = yes, even more than that**
** = sarcasm

11:01
Jenny is one of our assistants and what a lovely assistant she is too. Not only is Jenny a good assistant but she is also a former EU translator who speaks English, Italian, Spanish and French.

This is absolutely perfect because I have told Jenny that I've taken a new liking to everything Gallic and who knows when I may be in the company of some dashing French gentleman.

So Jenny has given me some handy phrases.

When you meet you say "it's nice to see you"
You say: Je bund pour twa"
(Je bande pour toi)

English: "I don't want lunch at Zizi".
How you say it: "Too a oon beau zeezee."
(Tu as un beau zizi)

Something like "don't worry, I'll get the bill" in English.
You say: "Je vay sesee planter oon dans votre boite arrier"
(Je vais ceci planter l'un dans votre boîte arrière.)

I nearly know them off by heart. If anyone knows any other useful French phrases I would be most grateful.

And don't try the "voulez vouz" one. I know what that means. I'm not that stupid!

11:51
What time is it? It's Westfield time!

This knitted top in A|X has my name all over it.

I'm only telling you this because I've called shotgun on it. Thanks.

14:56
I am in a meeting that is this interesting...

...as in "fuck me, I'm bored."

As you know, me writing the words fuck me would be considered hugely ironic. Let's move on.

18:11
Memo to the guy in the gym with the grey Maximuscle T-shirt and London Irish shorts:

You smiled at me and I said hello.
You made a ridiculous comment about me lifting weights and I made a bad joke about "I'm only doing it to try and look tough..."

That's the cue that I am flirting back so make a fucking move. Don't just sit for the next five minutes trying to catch my eye. Say something, for god's sake.
You started it.

18:51
We're going to have to do this with a nudge and a wink because despite what you might think, I am slightly coy about wading in with names.

It involves a revelation that made me go cold and my mouth dry.

Okay. So given what I've said previously. Yeah? That's where this revelation happens.

The name Robster, yeah? The person who calls me that? Do you know who we're talking about?

He helped me spot and afterwards wandered back to where he was doing squats and bent over.

Are you ready for this? I saw the top band above his tracksuit pants line at the back. He was wearing a black and red jockstrap.

20:50
Snack time....

Udo's Choice and tuna. Urgh.

21:51
Thank god today has been so much better than yesterday. To celebrate I think I'm going to retire to bed for a wank and Season 5 of Family Guy.

Although maybe not in that order.

Missing you already.

Mon... bla fuck off.

5:02
It's okay, I'm awake. Well, I'm not but I am. Four hours' sleep. Crap.

7:13
Will someone please shoot me now*.

* = in the non-violence / without a gun kind of way.

9:16
I want this crap to stop, I want to rewind and re-have the nice weekend I had. (Minus the noisy housemate incident)

10:17
Fuck you.

10:41
And you too.

11:21
Go fuck yourself.

12:21
Fuck this shit, I'm going to Westfield.

13:02
Babies crying, people walking slowly and wandering from left to right. Groups of school kids walking six abreast and holding hands.
This cannot last. I have to leave.

15:24

17:18

19:05
Gym. It gets worse for three reasons:
1/ Idiot straight fuck-wits who have no sense of personal space.
2/ Idiot straight fuck-wits who have no sense of personal space.
3/ Idiot straight fuck-wits who have no sense of personal space.

Fuck off and stand somewhere else. I was here first.

19:21
A brief glimmer of hope and a ray of light.
Chris appears and calls me The Robster. He asks how my weekend was. I tell him.
We says he is free for five minutes and we do some abdominal exercises.

He is a former Men's Health model and he calls me The Robster. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.

20:19
In Sainsbury's with more people who... I can't even justify typing this.

21:10
I am supposed to meet Andrew in Soho for a drink.
Instead I stay at home and cry.

22:13
Nothing. Nothing at all could have prepared me for the day that was going to unfold.

If today were expressed as a number on the scale from one to 100, with a hundred being a perfect day, this Monday would probably rate -9.e+64

If you managed to round up every single embittered old gay and packed them into Wembley Stadium, you still wouldn't get an idea of just how negative today has been.

I do get a bit sorry for Monday because I think it has a tough time but when it vomits days like yesterday, I have no sympathy.

Typing any more of this is just going to make the situation worse.

22:19
Do you mind if we forget about today and I go to bed? I would ask you to join me but bad interactions would probably push me over the edge, into an abyss of despair and hopelessness.

Sometimes you just. can't. do. It.

22:21
Memo to God from The Robster:
Please make tomorrow better.

Sunday, 10 May 09

3:51
So what was supposed to be a quiet Saturday night suddenly is not because I live with a flat mate who has decided she needs to bring a male companion home.

This wouldn't usually be that much of a noisy occurrence except that she has decided to put the music on. It is like Daniel Merriwether is singing Mark Ronson's Stop Me within two feet from my bed.

4:22
And now it's the fucking Eurythmics and I cannot take this anymore so instead of going out of my room and screaming / smashing up the kitchen in a fit of rage, I calmly put on my clothes and wander out into the morning.

5:07
And I have strolled into Maida Vale, me alone and the empty streets of London. I am sitting in a large, vacant concrete square, behind me a huge council block of flats.

The shards of morning sun pierce through the space between the houses in front of me and it is quiet. It seems rude to sully the fresh, clean morning air with a song on my iPod so instead I just sit there, thinking.

5:40
And now I have wandered onto Edgware Road...

6:10
...and Oxford Circus where too, the place is quiet except for the cleaner who's sweeping the pavement.

And as they do in Dublin to celebrate the wanderings of Leopold Bloom in Ulysses, so I have provided map should you wish to wander in my Nike footsteps...
(Clickey makes biggy...)

10:57
I have woken up, having got home from my stroll, and am about to have a chat with my housemate. I resist the temptation to scream and smash up the kitchen to illustrate just how annoyed I am.

It's been a long time since I've seen Falling Down, that movie where Michael Douglas take a baseball bat to everyone and everything.

12:57
I am sitting with my uncle and his partner (she) who've come to London for the day. We are having lunch. I am having grilled fish, no rice or potato.

The whole event is summed up by my uncle who asks me "if I have any special lady in my life at the moment?"

"Ha ha, London-is-just-so-big-with-too-many-to-choose-just-one."

Although what I mean to say is "actually, I am a human toy to a group of six black men who use me as a fuck cushion and communal cum dump*."

The lunch doesn't rise much above that sort of casual disdain on my part. Ho hum.

* = poetic exaggeration.

16:00
Snooze time.

17:00
And now is the time when I am heading into Soho to meet Nix for a Sunday sundowner (non-alcoholic) but because my hair needs cutting and the bags under my eyes have their own postcode I don the disguise.

19:35
Nix and I are in Balans, he is with burger and I am with Cobb salad. We are discussing short people, the man in a tank top with good arms and just who weed on who at Hustlaball. You know, ordinary speak for homogays.

20:51
I am walking to the Bakerloo station to head home when I hear someone outside Rupert Street call my name. I turn around and there are exchanged smiles and I agree to stay for one glass.

Even though it was about 99.99% unlikely that I wasn't going to agree to stay for a while.

21:13
And the person who called my name is talking to me.

21:35
And the person who called my name has put his around over my shoulder so I have put my arm around his waist.

21:56
And the person who called my name is standing in front of me and we have kissed. And we say good night.

22:29
I am back home and I text the person who called my name; "I just wanted to say that it was so nice to see you again."

23:55
A text arrives back. "Yes, it was very nice and I'll see you on Saturday".

I don't know what I'm getting into. It's probably nothing. I don't want to assume it could be anything more.
I really like him though.

Saturday, 09 May 09

4:21

4:31


06:21
I am travelling on the London Underground line known as The Hammersmith and City Line*.

On the floor in the carriage there is a newspaper, strewn asunder for the general populace of London to tread their mucky shoes all over.

And what's that? A big, hairy, muscle-bear peering out from the gossip pages...

Oh. That's Hugh Jack-in-the-box who is married and who is straight.

* = It is pink.

07:17
I am sitting at my desk at work which provides a brilliant case study for anyone interested in the science of mixed emotions.

You see, I am earning a lot of extra money by coming into the office to oversee some work but, I could have had a better Friday night had I done what everyone else was doing.

Which is better, taking extra money or having a party? My life is full of these sort of epic decisions that I face on a near quarterly-hour basis.

11:13
Beavering away. Speaking of beavers, can I ask you a question? Is it cool of homogays to wear fitted T-shirts that say the word 'Hustler' emblazoned across the chest?
I am feeling this is either a new cool or old hat.
(See, there's another one of those epic decisions...)

12:27
Can I tell you something and will you promise to keep schtum about it?
Okay.
Next Saturday I am going to meet someone for lunch / dinner / I don't know what yet and I'm trying not to get excited about it because I'm not a 14 year old girl who's just been granted five minutes with Zac Efron.
However, I can't help but get a little* excited.

* = a lot.

14:27
There are times when I think that the whole world is involved in some sort of conspiracy and someone's forgot to tell me about it.
Or maybe they're deliberately not telling me.

For example, it is a mild Saturday afternoon in May. Not too nice that everyone's in the park though. So why is the gym like this...?

Where did all the middle-aged women go who hog the running machines and insist on not wearing sports bars. (Think two melons in a stocking on a bouncy castle)

17:13
The song of the right now is David Penn Remix of Sandy Rivera's "I Can't Stop". It is fierce, hot and playing it at a substantial volume is thoroughly recommended.

One aspect of the song I find particularly pleasing is the marcatissimo bass with reverse synthesised sweeps, providing a pleasing and satisfying counterpoint to Ms Rivera's sampled pizzicato voce.

18:56
I have something to show you although maybe you might have seen it. A friend of mine who I have never met is doing something quite interesting.

Basically he's decided to take a photo of himself every day for an entire year. Some of the pictures are quite interesting, others boring.

I really don't know what I'm er, he's hoping to achieve by it but I am sure he would appreciate if you went and had a look...

The 365 project.

20:21
As the words came out my mouth to say yes, I knew I was going to regret it and I have tried everything possible to get out of it but alas, I have failed.

All I will say are five words. Colleagues. House party. Stoke Newington.

So I am at this party I don't want to be at, talking to people I don't want to talk to and the only person of interest is an older guy who, I learn, has a nipple ring.

I am finally going to be able to ask freely...

"So - is it for sex and what do you do with it? Say, if I ended up in bed with someone with a nipple ring - what is the handling technique on this equipment?"

Apparently it's because they're sensitive but we all knew that. However, if you pull, don't pull too hard. Sort of rub your hand over it and move it about a bit. Sensitively.

Although sometimes "if you're off your head people use it like a door knocker which hurts to buggery in the morning."

Apparently using your tongue to twiddle it about doesn't rate as highly as you think it might. And that's it.

Perhaps you'll thank me one day for this. I haven't personally had reason to need the information but I thought in it was only fair to share. Correct at will.

23:11
Um. If anyone doesn't have anything else to add shall we call it quits? I am off the Metropolitan line, back in my hood and ready for bed.

God this is dull for a Saturday night.