30.03.14 (Day 98, still)


I’m in McDonald’s (I fancied a change of scene). I had to get out as I was climbing the walls, literally: I’ve been painting and therefore look a right two and eight as my hands are covered in black paint. I managed to get most of it off but under the nails is a bastard to get to. Oh well, I get funny looks anyway, when the teenage fan club surround me. Now I’ll just get misjudged for being dirty in a different way. Finger nails aside, I’m clean and changed: another Fred Perry polo shirt with my Weird Fish cherry red shirt on top; black drainpipes, my faithful cherry red DM boots and my black sheepskin coat.

The netbook is charging next door in the newsagent and until work on that (on a Sunday), I’m jotting notes and reading. I’m about three quarters of the way through The Curious Incident and next up is The Soft Machine, by William Burroughs: one of my own books, as I’ve decided to return all but the book I’m reading to the library, for fear of theft or damage. A shame as I’m allowed to borrow up to 30 items at a time with my level of membership and like to have more than one book on the go at any one time: usually a novel, a collection of short stories, some poetry and  a non-fiction volume.

Incidentally, I’ve been advised to point out some facts among my ramblings. So here are the footnotes:

I am NOT homeless: I have made a home but remain transitory.

I am NOT jobless: I work on various things.

I am NOT penniless: I get paid for some of the work I do, although a lot is voluntary.

I am NOT alcoholic: I was diagnosed as having Alcohol Dependency Syndrome; a recognised medical illness and it’s what is on my sick note. I can provide documented proof and have had to to certain authorities.

I AM also diagnosed as suffering chronic depression.

Most people don’t get it and don’t get me. The feeling is very much mutual.

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