Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Tuesday 23 June 09

Wake up or something.

That's what you generally have to do at the start of the day allegedly. I am never sure of the procedure but since it's what I've done before, I figure that it must be generally correct.

If anyone knows any different could they let me know. I can adjust.

Look! There's a Sydney Sheldon book lying the road. It is not mine but what the hell is it doing there?

This immediately reminds me a quote from Dorothy Parker who once said of a book she was reading; "this is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. Instead it should be thrown with great force."

Maybe someone nearby was reading it and suddenly realised their errant ways and exclaimed "what the fuck is this?!" And then through the air it flew.

Having lunch with the usual suspects at Westfield. Except I've finished...

So that's the end of that story then.

A text arrives.

"Hey - it's David. Thought I would see you were back from South Africa and if you wanted to do lunch maybe? Hope to hear X x."

Of course my first reaction is shock because of his use of the word "maybe". An adverb at the end of a sentence!?
But perhaps maybe is key.

Maybe suggests that he's already expecting me to say "no thanks".

FYI: David asked for my number on La Ligne De La Centrale, I said okay (I was having a particularly bad time at the time) and we went on a date and er.
I ended up texting him afterwards to say that me and my life partner were getting back together and perhaps I was going to take it cool etc.

Maybe he's forgotten all about my rather awful er, mistruths. Maybe he believed what I said and was checking to see.
Maybe I'm going to hell.

I consider texting David back but then of course it hits me. I am still in South Africa. Obviously. So that's that for a few days.

Oh god. My weird tropical disease has resurfaced which couldn't have come at a better time.
What is my weird tropical disease?

Well, the current humidity heat, using towels that the gym provides, working at a different desk every day, nicking yourself with a razor - it's a revolting and vile mix but it's a skin infection near my mouth. Like a cold sore.

I feel like a leper. I may consider crying. I might just take a photo for you to see.

Alone in a darkened room. I am like Quasimodo. I daren't go out. I can't be seen.

You know me. I'm a generous sort of fellow who would never wish ill on anyone but tonight I will make an unusual exception...

Who parks their SLK at night with the top down? Secretly, I really hope it rains so that tomorrow they wake up to find their car filled like a bucket.

They're such gay cars anyway.

Some days are big days. Others are rather puny little boring days that no-one really takes any notice of.
Today has been the latter.

Please tell me you haven't fallen asleep?

1 comment:

Fresco said...

Am I correct that lunch at 13:51 was held at Westfield's The Real Greek? I love that place.