A Journal Of Little Consequence Based on a true story.

Sunday, September 28, 2003   Holes rapidly appear in all of my socks, courtesy of my left big toe. Having bought five new pairs the previous day, I was eager to try them out; it's a rare luxury to be able to wear an intact pair. I walked along the dual carriageway to my favourite supermarket, breathing in the heady vapours emitted by the passing traffic. I am very fond of this walk, but it probably isn't very healthy. Part of the reason I like walking is the opportunity to breathe the outside air, but in this case it's just a different kind of pollution to that found in the streets of the city. On the way, I called a number of people on my mobile telephone, but was unable to get through to any of them, a common occurrence lately. On my arrival I was disappointed to find the supermarket shut, and made the considerable trek back. I took off my shoes, and examined the tips of my socks. It seemed that signs of wear were already showing in the area of that troublesome toe. I shall try trimming the nail back further. posted by grover | Sunday, September 28, 2003 Saturday, September 27, 2003   I went into the local town centre to buy an electric toothbrush, something I had been putting off for months. This kind of procrastination is all too often the case for me, especially when it comes to spending money on something new. However, in a sudden fit of spontaneous purchasing, I went into a bookshop and bought two books that I had not been planning to buy. Usually, I would have spent a considerable time looking them up on the internet and reading reviews by people who had already read them before combing through various online shops in order to find the best price. As I was browsing through the books, a young woman arrived on the scene and started looking through the same section. Say something, I thought, but I remained there paralysed. This was the popular psychology section, and I wondered if questions relating to the books she was looking at would amount to asking: "So, what's your neurosis?" After a short while, the woman asked me to move so that she could look at the shelf that I was standing in front of (she was moving from book to book at quite a rate, something I tend to do myself). I thought this might be an opportunity to speak, now that she had spoken. "What kind of thing are you looking for?" I asked quietly. She replied that she was just looking, with her back to me. Scintillating, I thought, and decided not to carry on, not that I could think of anything to say. It seemed to me that there was nothing to work with. Still, at least I had said something. On my return home, I found that I had received an e-mail newsletter on this very subject. According to this, an initial apparent indifference is normal on the part of people when you first speak to them. The importance of keeping the conversation going was stressed. Next time I jump in, I must remember to swim. posted by grover | Saturday, September 27, 2003 Friday, September 26, 2003   I resisted the urge to call J., even though we were both off work and she had suggested meeting today. She had said that she would telephone me on Monday or Tuesday to make specific arrangements, but no call had materialised. Whilst I have been happy in the past to be the one who instigates meetings with people in general, and am used to not having promises kept, I have recently been considering the notion that people do not deliver on what they say they are going to do because I pre-emptively strike, not giving them ample opportunity to act themselves. I have quite enjoyed the control this gives me, but it does mean that in my relationships with others I take on an overly large share of the "burden" of maintaining them. I feel that it is time to even things out a little. The problem is that when I have sat back and waited for others to get in touch, they have not, even though months or years have passed, and the relationship has lapsed. Presumably, there is something that I have overlooked. posted by grover | Friday, September 26, 2003 Thursday, September 25, 2003   Breakfast The first meal of the day slipped further and further away from my expectations. On the train to work, I salivated at the thought of a cooked breakfast. However, I was running short of time, and the nearest cafe to my workplace did not have very good sausages. I decided to buy a small tin of baked beans from the supermarket, to be accompanied by an equally individually-sized tin of luncheon meat. Sadly, both of these products were only available in a large size suitable for two meals or two people, a problem that I have often encountered when looking for packages of food intended for myself for a single meal. I left the supermarket with a sausage roll. Faced with a fair amount to do as soon as I got into work, I was a little rushed, and put my sausage roll into the microwave oven to heat whilst I started my first job of the day. I returned to the kitchen to fetch it, but tripped on the way back, tipping my food onto the floor. I would have to make do with toast provided by my employer, which I set about making before going back to tend to my work. On my second return to the kitchen, I found that my toast had been deposited in the refuse, having burned. I made another attempt, resulting in two very unevenly toasted slices of bread. As I was applying peanut butter to them, I received a telephone call informing me that something was going wrong with my job, but I decided to continue spreading. I had come this far, and I was going to make sure that the task reached completion this time. Later, the woman whom I had insulted a few days earlier in a desperate but successful attempt to avoid sex accused me of asking how I could help her (in a task that I had actually requisitioned her to do) in order to be near her. Yet again I was unable to tell whether this was purely a joke, or flirting. In any case, I was not in a position to test this, being surrounded by other colleagues. In the end I stayed on safer ground by implying that there were other things I wanted her to do for me, but which would have to be discussed in private. Of course, I had no idea on how I could follow through with this. Lunch Having missed out on a cooked breakfast, I had a hankering for pork-based products, and chose to have an "all-day breakfast" at a cafe for lunch. Having had little chance during the busy morning to imbibe liquid refreshment, I asked for a glass of water to accompany my meal. This failed to materialise with the plate of food I had ordered, which included amongst other things cold beans, low-quality sausage and half-raw egg, although as I was polishing off my repast, which I did actually quite enjoy, at a pavement table, the waitress brought me two slices of buttered toast, which hadn't even been on the menu as part of the meal, and which I had no inclination to eat. I pointed out this anomaly as I paid, although I believe I was smiling too much as I did so, thus reducing the impact of the complaint. Supper Still in the mood for fried food, I walked some distance after work to find an open fish and chip shop, where I once again went for an outside table, which surprised the waiter, as the temperature had dropped somewhat as darkness had fallen. There was plenty of trade at the take-away counter, but no one else was eating at a table either inside or out. However, despite the considerable savings I would enjoy, I was in no mood to eat "on the hoof" or sat on a bench in the street. I wanted cutlery. I felt a little self-conscious as I ate, as I was on the opposite corner to a pub, outside which a number of people were getting "merry". I wondered if they would mock me for eating outside in the cold. No such thing came to pass. Afterwards, with post-prandial fatigue encroaching as usual, I strolled to the late-opening bookshop. I remembered reading that bookshops are a good place to meet people, as there is already something to have a conversation about. The advice I had seen was to simply ask people what they were reading, something I did not manage to bring myself to do. However, I did see a man looking at a book I already owned, and felt better able to strike up a conversation about that. I guess that part of my reluctance to ask what someone was reading had to do with the possibility that the subject matter of the book they were looking at would not provide adequate fodder for a conversation, particularly if I was not interested in it. Then again, it ought to be possible to find something of interest in any subject, even if it is only the fact that someone else is interested in it. As the store started to close for the evening, I visited the toilet, where I heard one of the staff accusing someone locked in a stall of either injecting drugs or stealing DVDs by removing the discs from their packages. He may well have been correct, although I am not sure how he would have arrived at that conclusion. I noticed with some puzzlement a half-eaten peeled banana on the floor in the stall I was using. posted by grover | Thursday, September 25, 2003 Wednesday, September 24, 2003   I discussed the difficulties of approaching strangers with whom you wished to speak with a colleague, who thought nothing of doing this. Harking back to yesterday's experiences, I noted that she had not grown up in the city. Later, I purchased a cake to share with my co-workers, and was disappointed and surprised to see that there were few takers. It was a traditional fruit cake, and in retrospect I realise that it was not sufficiently "trendy" to warrant much attention. Had it been of the chocolate or cream variety (two substances that I have never really understood the fetishisation of ), or covered in flashy sparkles, I believe it would have done better. How fickle we are! Once my wounds have healed, I shall keep in mind that, whilst the cake itself is the most important thing, it may be the icing that is instrumental in ensuring that is tasted at all. posted by grover | Wednesday, September 24, 2003 Tuesday, September 23, 2003   Having completed my out-of-town scouting exercise with D., during which I marvelled at the sight of swans basking right by a main road, I looked around the farmer's market before heading back to the city. Approaching a stall selling hand-cooked crisps, I was greeted by the owners in a friendly fashion, and they engaged me in conversation about the weather immediately. I felt glad that I had already decided to purchase a bag of their crisps (which was so big that it would make me feel a little ill), otherwise I would have felt awkward about walking away not having bought anything after establishing relations with them. This feeling reared its head at the apple juice stall I visited next. I was sampling one of the juices, when the stallholder approached me and encouraged me to try some of the others, which I did as we talked about the differences between them. I felt a little trapped, as I did not intend to buy anything, which I blurted out as I made a move to leave. However, the stallholder asked me not to be shy, and to finish trying all the varieties of juice. I was quite taken aback; these people were actually being friendly at least partially for its own sake, rather than purely for the purposes of selling their product. I returned to the city, where I bought a shirt made from velvet, a material that is not as luxurious as I had previously believed, and received the kind of service I was more used to, with the people working in the shop steadfastly avoiding all eye contact with me even as I was served. posted by grover | Tuesday, September 23, 2003 Monday, September 22, 2003   Dammit, I thought, not again. D. had cut short a telephone conversation, promising to call me back shortly. My mood immediately darkened. She had already neglected to clear her appointments for the next day, when we were meeting to do some reconnaissance. Now she was being flaky again. I would be surprised to hear from her that day. I tried to get in touch with N. to inform her that our project would have to go ahead without D.'s assistance after all, and proceeded to place advertisements for someone who could fill the gap left by D. Why did people always let me down? Still under a cloud, I killed some time by watching a tape of one of my favourite television programmes, a series based on an old Buddhist tale. In this particular episode, one of the characters goes mad with grief because he believes he has eaten his friend, and fancies that he has been possessed by the soul of his dead companion. As it turns out, it's all a big misunderstanding. The lesson: we base our model of reality on the flimsiest of evidence, yet we act as if that reality represented the complete and absolute truth. Later, D. called, apologising for not returning the call sooner. I had been gnashing my teeth and cursing the world around me on the basis of - what? Nothing but my own thoughts. posted by grover | Monday, September 22, 2003 Sunday, September 21, 2003   With most shops shut, I pondered aloud what I should do after work. Perhaps I would go for a walk in the park in the dark. N.(a) said that that might lead to my being propositioned by a gay man, as this is apparently something that is done in the homosexual community. On reflection, N.(a) agreed with me that this was a highly improbable outcome. As we had discussed before, in all my life, I have only been propositioned once by a prostitute, whilst travelling in the Orient. This despite having worked for years in an area that is home to the hub of the country's sex industry. During the time that I lived in the street adjacent to a red-light district, the closest brush I had with the oldest profession was when I was asked for the time by someone who may or may not have been a prostitute. The alley behind my old workplace is a legendary haunt for drug addicts, who use it as a place to "shoot up", yet in my almost daily walks through there, I never once saw any evidence of chemical goings-on. As N.(a) said, it is as if I am surrounded by a kind of vice-free bubble, a zone of chastity and virtue. It has its pros and cons; it might be rather a good thing to be propositioned now and then, depending on who is doing the propositioning. posted by grover | Sunday, September 21, 2003 Saturday, September 20, 2003   With a particularly large workload scheduled for the weekend, I brought some music with me to ease the tedium a little. Because I did not want to weigh myself down too heavily with dozens of compact discs, repeated listenings of the albums I had brought with me were necessary to fill the long day. This gave me the opportunity to actually make out the lyrics of various songs that I had heard and enjoyed many times before without listening particularly intently. One of the songs had a few lines about unrequited love that particularly struck me. It's a well-worn subject for popular song, to be sure, and in this case there was nothing especially clever about the way it was expressed. Nonetheless, it was a heartfelt lyric, well put, and I found myself moved. Despite my cynicism about romantic love, I can see that there is something beautiful about it. Of course, the thing about emotions such as a yearning kind of love is that if you were to communicate them to the object of your desire, a sort of shock would be the probable result. You'd come across as rather psychotic, a judgement that would not be entirely unfair. And once the bottle is uncorked, all the pressure might dissipate. In any case, we've all had these moments of madness, which seem so sweet when heard in the words of a song or expressed to anyone but the person who inspires them. One way or another, this feeling is doomed. If you can realise this and accept it, I believe that there is something else beyond this intoxication, something profound. At one stage, I thought I was getting an idea of what this was, but I feel that I have a long way to go. posted by grover | Saturday, September 20, 2003 Friday, September 19, 2003   Arriving late at a small party to see off C. as she left for a new job, I felt strangely disconnected from the other people there. Alienation is not a new sensation for me, of course, but these were people that I was exceptionally fond of. What was wrong with me? Perhaps it was the fact everyone was more drunk than I was used to, due to the lateness of my entry. When everyone moved on to a late-opening bar, I elected to go home. I had had enough. In any case, looking back, there was not a great deal of objective evidence to base my melancholy state on. It's true that a number of times I was drifting about with no one to talk to, but then again that was the case for other people as well. It's as if I were taking the fact that I wasn't in conversation with someone for every second of my time there as evidence that I was some sort of social outcast. And in my mind, I had somehow completely discounted some very sweet sentiments expressed towards me during the evening, such as C.'s appreciation that I was there, on the basis that they were spoken by people under the influence of alcohol. Well, as the old cliché goes: "When you're hot you're hot, and when you're not, you're not." posted by grover | Friday, September 19, 2003 Thursday, September 18, 2003   I used a one-hour service at the chemist's to get some photographs developed for the first time in living memory. Whilst waiting, I visited the library, and looked at a number of books with the thought that reading any one of them would make me considerably more informed. However, they were all returned to their places on the shelves, and I elected to hire out a copy of the feature-length version of a children's programme that I used to watch as an infant instead (I didn't enjoy it that much, although I suspect that was due to my generally lethargic state at the time of viewing). With my photographs nearly ready, I went into a rival chemist's shop, where a woman was in the process of ejecting an unruly family. Shortly, she advised me to massage oil into my scalp. posted by grover | Thursday, September 18, 2003 Wednesday, September 17, 2003   N. derived some mirth from my failed attempt to ascertain the whereabouts of a Japanese garden in the park by asking a Japanese woman who didn't speak English. Shortly, two women, also Japanese, came into view. "Shall I..?" I asked N., referring to asking them where the garden was. "I'll go," she replied. As the women walked by, I wondered why N. hadn't said anything. I realised that she had thought I had been talking about moving out of the way to allow the women to pass, so I accosted one of them, to her slight consternation, and once again drew a blank. Whilst I consider myself to be operating below the threshold of what is normal in social terms, I'm not really sure what this even means. It would seem that N., someone I think of as "normal", did not even think of approaching a stranger to ask directions, so in this case she was operating below my threshold. Norms give us general guidelines for behaviour, but this illustrates the limits of their usefulness. Ultimately, one has to decide for oneself what is appropriate. My sandals filled with dust as I slipped down a number of short slopes in order to access the lower reaches of the riverbank for the purpose of taking some photographs. Whilst quite picturesque in places, surely no life could be sustained by this stretch of river, beyond the microorganisms producing the stench that emanates from it. "Take the bait," I was advised, with regard to my prediliction for turning all potential sexual encounters into comedy routines. Well, all right. I guess it's time to see what is beyond the safety of this polluted river that I have been basking in for so long. From what I have observed, swallowing hook, line and sinker tends to lead to a great deal of wriggling and gasping for oxygen, which may be no bad thing. However, I am hoping to avoid being clubbed over the head with a fishing priest at the end of it all. posted by grover | Wednesday, September 17, 2003 Tuesday, September 16, 2003   I have always been told that I have long arms, yet a shirt I tried on, whilst snug on the torso, was overly long in the sleeves. Was it designed for human use? Bantering with two female colleagues, I accused one of them of wanting to take me out. She asked me if we were going on a date, and winked at me. Suddenly I felt out of my depth. Was she joking? Quick, I thought, say something insulting. I managed to come up with a remark about how terrible the date would be, which my colleague seemed to be rather put out by. "You can go by yourself," she retorted. Pretending to find this outcome satisfactory, I made my exit. "You have to watch out for him," I heard my other colleague saying as I left. I wonder what she meant? Come to think of it, she had mentioned warning new female employees about me before, specifically in reference to the woman I had offended. She had said something about me appearing innocent at first glance, but that my true, wicked nature would come out later. I remember Z. saying to me with regard to the people at my previous place of work: "We all thought you were really good at first. But you're not." And N. had once accused me of being a "saucy git", adding that "the quiet ones are the worst". I suspect that what this adds up to is that I am becoming known as a tease. I'm not sure whether this is good or bad. Of course, the reason behind it is that I find the idea of someone being attracted to me hard to accept, so that I am fine when it seems like we are flirting purely as a joke, but when it starts to appear as if something might actually happen, I lose my composure. Definitely food for thought. I insinuated that my boss resembled a man in front of her. posted by grover | Tuesday, September 16, 2003 Monday, September 15, 2003   Unsure as to how to behave with D. when meeting her for the first time since she had gotten upset with me over the telephone, I decided to "act natural", rather than playing my usual card of coming across as highly awkward and insecure, even though that was how I was feeling. I saw N., with whom I was also meeting, over by the bar, and went over to her, hoping to use her as "cover" when approaching D., but decided at the last moment, before she saw me, to greet D. first instead, a choice I am glad I made, as otherwise I would have been indulging the idea that I needed some sort of "cover" at all. And, in the end, it was quite a productive meeting. posted by grover | Monday, September 15, 2003 Sunday, September 14, 2003   B. sounded tempted by my invitation to come and see the big parade in town, whilst J. did not reply to my telephone message. In the end, I found myself alone for the third time in a week despite attempts to connect with others. However, this time, rather than feeling melancholy about it, I managed to regain that sense of being content with being on my own, something that I had become quite good at in the past, but which lately I have been slipping behind with. I decided not to call Z. to ask her to watch the procession, even though there was a good chance that she was in the locality at the time. I was now making the choice to be alone. I reflected on how others had said to me on many occasions how they would not do things such as going to the cinema on their own, for fear of appearing as if they had no friends. Their loss, I thought, as I headed home in high spirits. After all, who doesn't like a good parade? posted by grover | Sunday, September 14, 2003 Saturday, September 13, 2003   I spoke with J.(a) on the telephone to ask him to carefully consider his decision to get married, a subject that he has apparently given little thought to. I expressed my concern, but, as is often the case, the conversation veered into the two of us giggling at a series of jokes, some of which hark back to our primary school days. I wonder what I shall wear to the wedding. posted by grover | Saturday, September 13, 2003 Friday, September 12, 2003   Languishing under the portico of the museum, I spoke to J. on the telephone in one of a string of failed attempts to get someone to join me for the evening. I had been working nights, and I was not keen on the idea of going home and sitting up for hours doing nothing. J., like B. and G., was choosing to stay at home, getting an early night. Curses, I thought, it's Friday night. posted by grover | Friday, September 12, 2003 Thursday, September 11, 2003   (Wednesday night's entry) My colleague N.(a) and I discussed our first experiences at pop concerts. Both of them had been large-scale spectaculars, and neither of us had enjoyed them. In my case, the two-day bus journey there and back contributed to this. Perhaps this was because we had been expecting too much. People keep telling me that sex is not all it is built up to be, and I believe them. Then again, perhaps I would try harder in this area if I didn't believe them. posted by grover | Thursday, September 11, 2003 Wednesday, September 10, 2003   (Tuesday night's entry) I realised that a colleague whom I had thought was taller than me was actually shorter. I had been fooled by her penchant for high-heeled shoes. Conversely, another colleague whom I had thought was about the same height as myself turned out to be greater in stature, though this had nothing to do with him wearing shoes that made him appear shorter. posted by grover | Wednesday, September 10, 2003 Monday, September 08, 2003   I have had dozens of blood tests, but I still dislike them. I always look away as the blood is being drawn. I am, however, grateful that the nurse administering the test tells you when the needle is about to enter, even though they usually say that you are about to feel a "sharp scratch". Of course, it feels nothing like a scratch. It feels exactly like a needle going in. Today, as is often the case, I was asked if I was nervous. Clearly, it showed. My outer demeanour frequently reflects my inner emotions. I shall try harder to turn things the other way around. posted by grover | Monday, September 08, 2003 Sunday, September 07, 2003   I felt rather sorry for myself after my attempt to persuade Z. to join me at the museum using a brusque approach had not worked. Nonetheless, I tried to appreciate exhibits such as models of fruit that opened up to reveal tiny erotic scenes, even whilst wondering how such scenes ever come to pass in life. I noted that a medieval chastity belt featured a decorative heart-shape just above the serrated vaginal guard. How quaint, I thought. If such devices were still in common use, would they feature the logos of fashionable designers? posted by grover | Sunday, September 07, 2003 Saturday, September 06, 2003   B.'s friend told me that he respected the fact that I do not take any recreational drugs. He also expressed admiration for a master forger being profiled on the television. Later, B. told me of his concern that this friend was taking heroin. I spoke to more people of my ethnicity to whom I am not related than I have done in the last twenty years. posted by grover | Saturday, September 06, 2003 Friday, September 05, 2003   Having spent an inordinate amount of time on the bus, and breaking my rule of not taking longer to travel to a location than I spend in the destination itself, I mentioned to my cousin that we could have shortened the journey by taking the train part of the way. Her perspective was that she would take the longer journey if it meant saving money. My view is that I am willing to pay to save time if that time would otherwise be spent in boredom. Of course, the ideal is that you never get bored in any situation, because you can always find something of interest in the environment, or at the very least, in your own mind. However, ambling bus journeys through unattractive surroundings are tremendously dull to me. For some reason, even if I have a book with me, I am unable to concentrate on it if progress keeps slowing to a crawl. This is not an issue on faster legs of the journey, when things seem right with the world, and I am able to focus. posted by grover | Friday, September 05, 2003 Thursday, September 04, 2003   After more than a day of searching, I finally managed to find an individual packet of dehydrated mashed potato, which I purchased during an unauthorised break from work. posted by grover | Thursday, September 04, 2003 Wednesday, September 03, 2003   Walking into a handmade cosmetics shop in search of a birthday present for my mother, I was greeted by a dazzling array of different types of soap, many of which resembled cakes or chocolates. Some even had grated coconut sprinkled on the top. The air was thick with the scent of them, and after leaving the shop, my clothes had taken on their sweet aroma, which was commented upon by my colleagues. Three days later, the smell will not have gone. posted by grover | Wednesday, September 03, 2003 Tuesday, September 02, 2003   D. was so upset by my newly assertive approach to her flakiness that she hung up the telephone on me. I had no idea I had such power. posted by grover | Tuesday, September 02, 2003 Monday, September 01, 2003   I told someone the tale of how D. had been showing me disrespect in business matters, and how I was planning to sever the working relationship, but not the friendship. They questioned the fact that I would want such a person as a friend, an idea I found quite shocking. After all, I thought, isn't it better to be on friendly terms with a person rather than not? However, on further reflection, I realised that, due to my history, it had never even occurred to me that there was anything unusual about others disrespecting me. It's an interesting notion to me that even if you are fond of a person, if the relationship is unsatisfactory in certain ways, you might consider ending it. posted by grover | Monday, September 01, 2003		links my life in prose contact archives