13 Notes in my diary that came to nothing.

Most of these don’t even make any sense to me any more.

I will try and explain the ones that do.

1. Womens-Downhill

English Weezer Rip Off

Scratch my Afflicted Fake wall

I don’t think the above have anything to do with each other.  My handwriting is a little like a doctors so I can’t be totally sure that the last one is what I wrote.

The middle one I think is a note I wrote for my radio show, Matt used to play me songs he liked and I would tell him why they were no good. It was a great show until we ran out of music. I don’t know which band I thought was an English Weezer rip off. I’m open to suggestions if anyone thinks they know. It might even have been one of the bands I played to Matt.

2. My Grandfather died at Auswitz, he was shooting at prisoners in the compound when his foot slipped and he fell from the guard tower.

This was a plot idea that came from a terrible joke that someone told me someone else had told. They told me the joke as an example of what a terrible guy the person that told it was. The person in question was doing a degree in Holocaust studies and apparently told this joke at Auswitz.  It’s a classic piece of misdirection but the subject matter makes it too tricky to actually use I think.

3. True Crimes- Portugeuse

I have no idea. Maybe it’s a band?

4. Film-The devil andDaniel Johnstone

Haven’t seen it. Don’t know when or why I wrote it down.

5. Ring around the bath (RS)

Again… no clue what I was thinking. Perhaps it was a metaphore for what is left of people after they die. A little like Philip Roth’s Human Stain.  We splash and splash around in the water… when it’s over all that is left is the ring around tha bath, the sloughed cells and accumulated dirty we were only too keen to get rid off.  I don’t know what the RS is about.

6. Attack of the KillerShrews

Plot idea? Title in a video store I thought looked funny? Something to do with their venomous teeth? Who knows now. it’s all a ring around the bath.

7. No AUTOWATCH- 16 year olds

Autowatch was underlined like three times. No idea why. Wait I remember now… is a miss spelling of Autumn watch. This was information for a tour I was giving at work. Autowatch is a misspelling of Autumn Watch. This is me reminding myself that I am not allowed to go there. The tour was for a group of 16 year olds.

8. Breaking Hearts since2009

Doing F-all with yourmoney…

First one Um? Your guess is as good as mine. second one looks like a piss take of the Scottish Widows slogan.

9.Blue Peter
Teasing kids with sports they can’t afford.

When I was a kid every time I watched Blue Peter it seemed to be about a group of kids doing QuadBike Polo… or Scuba Water Polo… or some other complex variant of Polo.  a game that I could not afford to play in its most basic form... considering  that Coolios skit about ‘paper-ball’ was much closer to my reality than the motorised super sports of the fortune 500, for me, watching Blue Peter was akin to a French peasant reading about the life of Marie Antoinette before having his face ground into the mud by a group of Yardy gangsters.

 It bothered me then. I guess it still bothered me when I wrote this note. I'm am not totally sure I am over it now.

10. By then though...the last of the good lives was lived.

Well I am assuming that I wasn’t in a particularly cheery mood when I wrote this one. I had this idea that Virtue is dead. innocence is lost. We are so interconnected now that even a modern day St Francis of Assisi would be in some way culpable for the multitude of crimes against nature and humanity that would have supported his existence. Perhaps I was yearning for the sea like Herman Melville, Lusting after empty fields of Ice like Earnest Shackleton. looking for a reason to quote the names of a couple of people in the hope that it makes me look like I've read a bit.

11. People who see themselves from the Outside

Was this important for some reason? Perhaps I was missing the word accurately...  people who can accurately see themselves from the outside. 

There is a story that comes to mind about the crazy person on the bus. Within seconds everyone on the bus can tell that they are crazy…  could provide a list of things they are doing that appear out of the ordinary… perhaps they will give these details later to a police officer… It is a List that would take the person themselves years to identify and perhaps even longer to correct. They say that Hindsight is 20/20 I think what I am sugesing here is that Insight is maybe 20/200...

(just as a brief point of explanation, 20/20 vision means you can see accurately from 20 feet what a normal person can see from 20 feet, if you have 20/10 vision your eyes are twice as good as you can see from twenty feet what normal people can only see from 10 feet away... Owls and Hawks for example have vision that is 20/02... which is pretty impressive... unless you're massively long sighted. 

If you are 20/200... you are considered Legally Blind.)

12.Gold doesn’t fade away like love does.Gold doesn’t bring a tear.
Ridden over by the EMO horse?

Unrelated notes on separate pages… but I think they work well together.

13. Meets in super market

On line?

Like a stuffed animal

In a waiting room

Brothers and Sisters, Fathers day! Is it?

---

Life in the Now

Nothing to look forward too

Can’t get into it

Things we try 

---

Rain-man Style progression

What do you like? 

I like it when you get the Joke

It’s about time they Switched me off
This whole section looks like I am trying to plan something out, like I have an idea for something I am going to write but my “notes” totally fail to actually make sence. Maybe I was writing down my dreams or something? But I doubt it. I guess I just felt like throwing my future-self a curveball.

There are more notes..

Many of them telephone numbers and contact details for people who do weird and wonderful things. A man who paints lampposts gold… a girl who sells fonts to people with writers block… there are many names with email address and numbers that have no notes about who they are. Like furniture in a hoarder’s  basement they are lost to the world. Or at least lost to me.

Goodnight all.

Job Interview

It starts with a blank page. Like every life. Most Lives.
Like the universe itself. It starts from nothing.

And then what.

A man walking though the woods, gathering wild flowers.  Not real woods. These are the woods of a fairy tale. The slightest hint of neon in the too green trees that seem to form a perfect circle. A perfect frame around whatever object catches your attention. This is how is starts… A long time ago in a land far far away… that looked for all the world like an advert for expensive perfume.

There a man walks. There a man steps with wonder from branch to moss covered branch gathering wild flowers.

This is the world of his imagination. This is what he sees when he closes his eyes.

At first of course nothing.  The black smeared with red. Patches of light passing like rush hour traffic though his eyelids. Thoughts of the day. Thoughts of work and then eventually this garden.

A mediated Eden.

He opens his eyes. It’s 3pm and he is on a train. He is wearing an suit that he bought the day before. He is in the quiet carriage. The only noise is the gentle rhythmic pulsing for the train wheels over the rails. He thinks about what it took to build all of this. The kind of drive and vision and organisational skills. How much of an effort it was. A force of will. He is pushed along on the force of somebody else’s, dream of success.

Into the gentle rhythm of the quiet carriage drifts another sound. A woman's voice. Half of a conversation. It’s hard to tell if it’s a telephone conversation or just that in this particular form of white noise, a woman’s voice carries where a man's doesn’t. Something to do with bass tones and frequencies. 

He thinks it’s the latter. He also feels like he has heard this woman before. On another train somewhere.  Perhaps on every train in every quiet carriage he has ever been on. His memory is playing tricks on him. This is clearly impossible.  For this woman to have been on every train journey of his life would mean one of two impossible things were true.

Either that he was the only truly sentient being in the universe and all other beings were simply robots or holograms or something. specifically designed to lend realism to his constructed universe.

Or that for some reason his life. To be more specific the rail centric portions of his life had perfectly synchronised with that of a complete stranger. If this was true what should he do with this information. He considered making a note in his diary. Writing something down that would prompt him to check. The next time he rode the train.
Is this the same woman.
What if it was.
What if she was identical.
How much proof would he need.
Should he photograph her.
If she did prove to be the same woman wouldn’t this mean he was now forced to confront her.

Hello.

He imagined himself saying. I would like you to compare diary's with you. Do you keep a diary. Is it a work diary or simply for pleasure. The thought drifted away into the fog of her possible responses. Numbers and words. He closed his eyes again in the hope of returning to the forest with its flowers lit with internal LEDS and Rabbits that while highly realistic were perceptibly animatronic. He wondered briefly if they had used real rabbit fur in order to construct them and then remembered that it was a dream and that obviously in that case no rabbits had been harmed.

The woman was still talking. From what he could gather.  His eyes now shut. His brain still open. She was talking to a man she had just met.  They seemed to have a lot in common. He was making her laugh. The Man. Our Man. Began  to feel a camaraderie with this unheard stranger. He wished him well. He wanted him to do well. We wanted the kindling sparks of the burgeoning relationship he was watching to blossom into something more.  He was like a football supporter cheering every pass. Listening as intently as the mystery man himself to the woman's ubiquitous voice.  Like a tight rope walker watching the rope. He though.  Listening and watching. Responding appropriately. Perhaps on the edge of being inappropriate. Where it's most exciting.

He wondered. What the hell it is about human beings that made them want to support each other. What was it that worried if rabbits were harmed. He tried to analyse if this part of his brain was a strength or a weakness. He gave up on sleeping.

Before the nothing that lead to the garden and the thoughts described above. Their had been another train journey, Outward bound... in hope.

He has bought this suit for a job interview in London. Now he was on his way back. Still suited up. Less Hopefull. He wondered as he looked around the quiet carriage if people could tell he was an imposter. Or if they just assumed, that he had every right to wear the suit. He tried to say with his body language that this was his Everyday clothing. He became slightly embarrassed about the fact that his bag was a little incongruous with the rest of his outfit. Would his scuffed and worried laptop satchel be the clue that gave the game away.

Through no fault of the bag. He didn’t get the job.