Since Xmas I’ve been completely at sea, without bearings. Of course I paddle with my hands and catch whatever breeze I can in the direction the current is taking me, god knows where (except the obvious and ultimate end). I find not knowing and having little control pleasant though being beaten up wasn’t at the time, but I survived what was an interesting experience and won, though the police have yet to tell me what the assailant’s sentence was. I couldn’t care less and bear him no animosity.
I don’t know where the sex thing’s going either, or the book’s publication which has hit a shoal of the publisher’s making, I think, by complicating simple things, wanting a ‘creative’ input that’s irrelevant at best. It doesn’t much concern me. When asked I’ll say what I think.
What I like to do is write up the past day and blog any past event that seems a bit interesting – to me. You can look after yourself. The only thing of interest was Yvann’s coming up Sunday. I like him but not drunk where he speaks in rap tongues and Scottish accents and his head seems to wobble all over the place. I treated him to Belgian chocolate ice-cream and limoncello. It should’ve been lemon sorbet but that was last Sunday when I told him if he had anything better to do than me then to do it and he did.
He lifted me up in an affectionate embrace which was quite rousing. He’s strong if skinny. He splashed or dribbled ice-cream down his front which I sponged off at once while it was on but that he then took off. He dashed downstairs for the makings of a spliff which he considerately smoked out on the balcony. I had a coughing puff. Then a more successful second puff though less successful in effect than the time before. He encouraged me to follow his example and do …whatever they’re called: arm lifts off the floor. I did whatever it’s called when you plant feet and hands on the floor and arch your back. He couldn’t do that. He wanted to teach me karate or whatever in order to defend myself against any future assailant, a considerate thought but I can only defend, not attack physically even to defend, and the teaching seemed to imply his infliction of some pain on me. In any case I wasn’t expecting to be assailed last time and might not again. No point teaching me to stand up with hands raised edge on if I’m being surprisingly rushed at.
I noticed a white young man in singlet going to and coming from the outside door. “I think he was for you.” “Who?” “Him,” I pointed. “Owen, Owen!” and Yvann rushed off. I went outside with his shoes. “Where is he?” Owen asked. “Out the front looking for you.” I dropped the shoes into his arms. The lighter and damp top I dropped to Yvann who missed catching the lighter. And that opportunely ended that. I’d had enough.