On Sunday 4 March 2018 at 11.30am,
go randomly to Imperial Wharf, Chelsea. As you get off the orange train think maybe you will get back on to the orange train because of rain. Instead put up your umbrella for less than 3 minutes, refurling it because the fine spray rain has soon and suddenly ended. Walk north-west up Chelsea Gdn Mkt past a new building which contains well dressed persons going in to the Design Fair 2018. Have nothing to do with this and instead go to a new and wide footbridge over the creek and photograph a large number of bolllards relaxing in mud.
Bollards, Chelsea Wharf
Carefully remember that today is a determined effort to bring yourself out of the inertia surrounding your father’s recent death. Resolve to say yes and not no to whatever might happen while acknowledging though, that sitting on a couch beneath a blanket for several days through the coldest weather London has (possibly) known, was in fact a very good idea as it has enabled processing of previously unknown states of mind.
Announce to no-one in particular (but your self) that today is a walk for the purpose of avoiding the loss of your precious fitness, since you have avoided going dancing for nearly 2 months now and you have failed to stretch. Say in your mind: ‘I will not fail to stretch’, say it again: ‘I will not fail to stretch’. Also say in your mind, yet again, that you will return to dancing this week but this time mean it.
Find Lotts Road and walk 200 yards along it suddenly realising that it connects to Cheyne Walk and that you have long ago driven from it’s far end in your Beetle at the late end of the 1980s. Notice that that remembrance also brings into your brain Lol Creme and Kevin Godley. Suspect vaguely that you once believed that those 2 had some sort of production office in this place. Stop thinking about them when you turn left into Tadema Road.
At the petrol station wait while an uninterruptable small family suddenly emerges from a hidden gap in the wall and crosses your path. Maybe it’s good luck. Remember that you now no longer believe that luck is not real. And that you have finally become interested in magick.
Begin to head into King’s Rd World’s End where time runs quickly backwards. See a visual of Johnny Rotten as a very young man. Notice that the pub where you were long ago threatened with an oar by an Australian barman has become a different type of eating place called Eight above Eight. Think about Tracy Dann for 9 minutes and that it is she who saved you from that potential battering by being present, female and confident.
Put the letter to Gabrielle Binks which is in your backpack into the traditional red post box. Worry that it is now being sent from a postcode which does not represent the part of Lndon in which you actually live. Think ‘How does it get to Newcastle?’ meaning ‘by what specific route?’
Slow down your walking pace quite deliberately as a sort of therapy since your mind is easily overwhelmed right now. Notice that you can not quite believe that you ARE being overwhelmed and that you in fact prefer to claim that more things are being sent for you to juggle with. Perhaps both things are in fact the case. Accept grudgingly that it’s perfectly possible that inability to handle as much might coincide with the advent of more to handle.
At that bit on Kings Rd where the path narrows next a large hedge stop sharp when a fast moving stylish man of your own age but who has a beard suddenly makes a John Cleese looming step across your path in order to tie his shoelace up against the low brick wall. Inadvertantly gasp, but be sure to show no displeasure. Indeed nod amusedly.
Notice that that wonderful Blow-Up, Stones, Bailey, Faithful old-style but posh caff that once ruled this section has gone gone gone.
See, on the steps of the Registry Office, soggy but positive confetti. Had it been thrown into the snow which has now melted? Visualise them going ahead despite the forecasts of icy doom from every available Medium.
Uncharacteristically DO NOT avoid a salon representative who clearly wants your business. Fail to dip your head. Fail to avert your gaze. Fail to step away. Fail to turn around and go the back way. Simply accept the small packet of moisturiser she puts into your (also uncharacteristically) out-stretched hand. Even when she suggests coming in to her salon, do not falter. Sense that she is a very very professional Japanese woman and she knows her stuff. Without even knowing that it is happening, for the first time ever, accept the injection into your under eye areas of some marvellous wrinkle-removing substance which is not Botox. Think to your self ‘How the f*** did this happen?’ but enjoy it, precisely because it is not at all in any universe your thing. Respectfully listen to the science behind this process and admire the subtle and quite brilliant flattery of a skilled sales woman who herself of course has perfect skin. Know that you’re being in some way manipulated by very kind and modest ‘guesses’ of your actual age but don’t mind. Allow yourself for once to be drawn in and even beam with pride when you tell her that next year you get a free Oyster. Notice that although you can’t really tell the difference you DO look better. Ask her ‘What if I like my lines?’ and when her reply makes you genuinely laugh in front of herhand-held mirror, see something in your own smile that you have never actually been in a position to witness before. Fail to be embarrassed to say ‘no thanks’ to paying the ‘vastly reduced for March’ £399 for the injector and cream but take her card with grace and understand this encounter has helped you deeply.
LEFT: Accidental rejuvenation, RIGHT: Danny Fox, Saatchi
Go into the Saatchi and be remembered by the woman at the desk as that person who was genuinely interested last November about the policy of not being allowed to wear, but allowed to carry, one’s own backpack around the gallery. Laugh when she tells you that that rule has been changed and that you can wear your haversack upon your back with gay abandon. Do just that. Find one room of stuff which you love. Become aware that this week your favourite painter is called Danny Fox and that you have no information as to their gender but so what? Buy 2 postcards of their massive, bright, rough and childlike-but-not, pictures. See some young women in a group who may be film students with what appears to be a ‘lite’ version of a steady-cam. Presume that this item might be available to the general public.
Explore Pimlico by routes which are new to you including Ebury St and Bessborough St. Buy a grey doorstop in a proper hardware-shop-of-yore uncharacteristically doing that thing where you jump the queue by leaving coins on the counter and saying keep the 5p change. Notice with deep joy that both the man waiting for a key to be cut and the assistant doing the cutting were very happy with the way you dealt with this.
Cross Vauxhall Bridge beside the Cyclists Superhighway. Look to the new and enormous skyscraper flats which have magnificently replaced the skyscraper in which you worked in 79/80. Think: ‘Where do destroyed buildings go?’ Assess the possibility of jumping on to the roof of the quick-moving restaurant boat below just for a laugh. See a vivid sequence of you clattering your head on that roof and slipping into the icy Thames like a complete and utter dork.
As your legs slightly stiffen (I will not fail to stretch) wander through the Santander bike racks next to the Vauxhall Tavern and contemplate getting some form of smart device which would permit you to take part in renting one of those red vehicles and using it upon the Cyclist’s Superhighway. Carry on slow along Kennington Lane.
Watch the cops stop some ‘dead giveaway’ lads in a lowered Corsa. Watch a boy of possibly around 9 or 10 simply and unconsciously allow his unwanted box of chips to fall from his grasp no matter where it should land. Do nothing about that.
Go inside the Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre like you always used to and get on one of the comfortable trains which have now returned to the melting city. As you walk towards home along Rye Lane see a highly detailed vision of a weekly workshop where you encourage persons to chant along to lo-volume electronic music triggered on your SPD-SX.
I played cassettes to people in a drunken room
I played cassettes to vomiting rebels who clattered about like skeletons back from the underworld
I played cassettes to people with a love for all the poisons, howling, necking and licking and spitting on the floor
I played cassettes to medicine women and medicine men, juggling cigarettes and pills and shaking their broken limbs to the joy of the quivering and lonely snake-eyed boys
I’m a chemical woman and I play cassettes by the muddy and mighty river
I played cassettes to stumbling, luvved-up monks who swaggered and swayed in the gentle, early freshening fog
I played cassettes to craggy old buggers with limps and curses hammering crutches four to the floor
I’m a chemical woman and I play cassettes by the muddy and mighty river.
Running CueZy the 9 pad sampler on iPod Touch 5, I experienced delay problems with samples which I had set to loop. Also some samples only partially loaded. The samples I was using were mp3.
At first I thought this might be the out of date processor of the Touch not being able to cope so I tried lower and lower quality mp3s. Even though the problem was less obvious it was still there.
HOW I SOLVED THIS: I changed the samples into AAC (128). No more looping difficulties.