And then we go back to our TVs.
I came back here, in amongst the four walls, suddenly aware of a mild restlessness, a need to eat things I didn't need to eat, to switch on the gogglebox. Nothing on but we'll watch it anyway. I take a walk down the high street in search of fish and chips - the same high street a week ago that I thought I was in love with - and I'm struck by how intensely hideous and grey everything is. I realise: the TV screen of my mind has been ninety-percent filled the last week or so with trees, with greenery, with good stuff - and now everything I see is ugly, man-made, just the road, the sidewalk, the buildings and the shop signs and such. Everything is dirty and dull. And this is what we look at - us urbanites - almost all day long. No wonder we look for distractions. No wonder we feel weird and wrong. The world is a mirror and the mirror we're staring into is filthy.
I worked in the woods: they were putting up some new posh tents and they needed lots of furniture building. It was IKEA flatpack stuff, on the whole: and once again, I thought I'd found my life's work. I loved it. I coulda done it all day. I did. It's just like playing with Meccano again.
Alas, on the first day in the woods I got word that my sublettee was moving out: so it looks like it's back to London for me come the end of this month. I sort of accepted it, figured it was meant to be: and resolved to make more of it, for a man makes his own life, no? There's no one else to blame. But after the goodness of that simple bell tent life - and the bursts of creativity and productivity I witnessed in myself -and after the realisation of the South Elmsall dirty TV screen mind thing, I shudder. Must make the most of the park. Must be strong and good and not give in to addictions and unhealthy tendencies. Three months. I think I can make it. And there's always the football team - good old boys have got Rory's Heroes off to a hundred percent start the first two games of this season...
As mentioned, I got creative in the woods: I finished the words to a song that has frustrated me for almost a year now. And mostly did the words to two songs I started back in 2008. Very happy to see that: it's been a long time since I've come up with anything new musically. Also, I fleshed out the plots for several Wayne Mercedes stories, came up with characters, dialogue, ideas, even the book jacket quotes. Could be fun. Wrote a thousand and odd words for the first one of those first thing this morning, by hand. And by that I mean, with pen and paper: if I can carry on like that, I can live and write anywhere.
One strange thing: my face swelled up in the woods, this time on my forehead (previously it had been my chin, and then a session of my eyes). It was the last night and I was worried that I'd done something wrong, didn't sleep very well - the lump was there in the morning. It amazes me - if this is indeed caused by 'anxiety' - that such minuscule amounts of stress can have such dramatic effects in my body. But then - he says parodyingly - I am a most sensitive boy. Really: I can barely do even the slightest thing wrong these days without feeling it quite acutely. Ho hum: keeps me on the straight 'n' narrow.
I think that's all I have to say. Haven't missed the computer or anything at all - but now I'm on it...of course I'm tempted. One day I hope the woods will become something a little more permanent for me: and Nicola's up for it too. Could be a beautiful thing. If only I had money! lol (If only I wanted to work...)
Iboga's not arrived. Maybe next week (delay my fault).
I seem to feel better about everything. More calm. What wonders a bit of doing the thing you long to do does for you.
Cheers!
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