05.04.14 (Day 104)
I’m in McDonald’s, having just had breakfast (sausage and egg wrap with brown sauce) and am now draining my coffee as I write this. One of my house mates just departed and before he did, we were discussing our luck – or lack thereof – following my arse of a day yesterday. I tend to be a glass-half-full type but when we were reminiscing about the robberies, beatings, bottlings, burnings, arrests, trips in various emergency vehicles (police cars and ambulances), we concluded that we’ve had at least our fair share of the anti-Midas touch. For us it seems that if something has two possible outcomes, one good and one bad, it’ll be the latter which we get. My recent enlightenment leads me to suggest that everything has an equal and opposite and therefore our bad luck means that someone else will receive good fortune. Although I was always a good – and profitable – poker player (although there’s no poker scene in Tonbridge), right now it seems that if I were to place a bet on red on a roulette wheel, the ball would land on black; or perhaps green, just to taunt me more.
After finishing up here I have some shopping to undertake, having gained a small amount of cash from a couple of deals. 99p store for smoking paraphernalia, a haircut (I’m getting my Mohawk restored), possibly have a flutter in The Grand National and a new bible as my last one was stolen.
So some retail therapy and a fairly relaxing day, relative to yesterday at least. Yesterday was very long and very stressful. It started at 05.42 when Danielle phoned, wishing to speak to someone and knowing that I’m normally up at that time (I was). That wasn’t stressful but it did serve to confirm what I should have known already, having been told so many times that she’s moved on and that I need to too. We discussed various things, both personal and practical, the latter including the eventual division of belongings when I find a more permanent base. Dan has been good enough to look after my things since I had to leave, although my stuff does make for a large part of a nice flat, alongside what is hers. A couple of things which were mine are two oil paintings by Richard Digance. Dan covets these and as a small gesture of gratitude for the help, generosity and kindness she extended to me in the time we were together, I’ve gifted the paintings to her. I can’t help clinging on to the love that was my life but I do have to let go and move on; something which is being prevented by incompetents. Although I have of course moved on in other ways with the eschewing of material goods (or rather, not being able to have any for now) and having found my faith. Dan was quite pleased for me in this respect and I explained that the voluntary work that I do with the churches, personal counselling of friends and reading my bible (when I have) one offers me comfort. She was slightly amused by my choice of denomination though (Esoteric Christianity), as it holds that Jesus wasn’t the Son of God but instead just a guy who walked around, telling stories, doing tricks and getting others to write his stories for him: a geezer and one I relate to.
Before soup kitchen yesterday, I had a meeting with some people who are re-homing me. I seemed to have passed what could have been seen as a test in their questioning and in the end they’ve said they’ll put in a referral for me in Canterbury; so that’s where I’m likely to be going, which will be nice. Tonbridge is my comfort zone to an extent but it also holds danger and friends aside, there’s not much to keep me here. And Canterbury is nice. The only thing holding up the move is the ongoing saga of sorting out my benefits, as I need to be in receipt of these to gain housing (And I’m applying for benefits because I’m sick: Alcohol Dependency Syndrome (a recognised condition and on my sick note from the doctor), chronic depression (also diagnosed) and a compressed disc in my spine (diagnosed now too)). Despite CAB dealing with this for me, DWP have fucked up yet again. Even my advisor at CAB opined that this seemed deliberate on the part of DWP due to their previous misleading lines of questioning. She further offered that she’s with me in the belief that the whole system is designed to frustrate applicants and that a finite number of those will eventually simply give up, as I have previously. Because of the latest screw up, we now need to start the whole process again, yet again. That ongoing fiasco continued for three hours yesterday afternoon and concluded the very long day and the part of it which was stressful.
We’ll get things sorted though and my aim is to be in a new place in Canterbury, sitting in front of a TV and observing an annual tradition of watching The World Snooker Championship finals at the beginning of May. And therefore be there for my birthday at the end of May.
Shopping done: filters and rolling papers acquired, Grand National punt placed and hair cut. The barber commented that my Mohawk goes with my Cherry Reds and we got talking about the whole Ska and Punk movements: a most engaging conversation. He was also the latest to compliment me on my dress sense (one of the many things which attracted Dan to me), as today I’m wearing the aforementioned DMs, black drainpipes a Fred Perry polo shirt and my Weirdfish cherry red shirt. Topped off with the Mohawk, I look quite the part. Or perhaps a part. But I don’t care as I don’t follow fashion; I make my own and others follow. Sometimes. Sometimes when I can’t decide what to wear, or put what with what, I simply toss a coin. Tails seems to produce the best results.