Since the middle of the day is apparently when I blog
Last night: after writing for a bit in one cafe, met up with Jess for coffee (having to explain repeatedly that I was in the food store literally visible from her workplace which she had somehow never noticed existing despite me talking about it on several occasions) dressed like this:
(https://www.instagram.com/p/BQA4i4kDYXD/ for other)
Which involved Lindsay "mothering" me (his own words) about the lie of said suit. It's his shirt, not that he ever wears it.
Following a coffee break and further updates on the ongoing relationship dramas of one of Jess's co-workers (she has the unfortunate characteristic of being a magnet for shitty, Shitty men, one presumes because she is - by Jess's account, I haven't seen her - extremely pretty, meaning shitty, shitty men feel entitled to her, and reasonably accommodating up to the point where she isn't any more, which she has apparently now been pushed to), I marched off to Broadgate to meet![[personal profile]](https://imgprx.livejournal.net/6064eea78cdb139406ed8457755c55c8cae1e276a3e7cac85272eb329b0a68c7/P2Wkxmt6hAfgxS9woo0DAQJIremCzaw5zUnNTr9UwMPa_xObnMWgBl4vFF44C150pAxFkjqcL0FRDhBWzE9jrB9f3CSfb_Q:hAhKLNN_jDMoc0OIGVMuQg)
lanyon for dinner.
Shoryu was, foodwise, as pleasant as ever - voici (https://www.instagram.com/p/BQBUmNzD3Z9/?taken-by=derekdesanges) and ici (https://www.instagram.com/p/BQBfdkKj2GP/?taken-by=derekdesanges) - and we totally failed to avoid talking about The Awfulness, although at this point we were mostly fantasising about dying, I bribed L with chocolate ("If you're going to leave the country please remember you promised I could have an Exit Kit from the hospital pharmacy"), L accused me of making things happen by writing about them ("you did this with ebola! Now you're doing it with post-nuclear - CAN'T YOU WRITE SOMETHING A BIT MORE POSITIVE, I know it's not exactly your comfort zone--"), I admitted I was in actual fact planning to basically destroy reality entirely this year. Which really doesn't differentiate me much from most politicians at the moment.
But at least dinner was nice; I tried to persuade L that she wants to at least come to dance classes or something likewise FUN! And NOT ON THE INTERNET! before she is burnt out by the demands of work and the hell that is current politics in a country that is behaving almost as fucking dementedly as America and with even less excuse. Tramped back the way I'd come in order to buy some Pointless Health Nonsense from the place I'd been hanging around in before, and arrived home too late to really type up any of my writing.
I'm not sleeping particularly well at the moment - I've extended myself to buying a copy of "Weightless" so that I can listen to it when I'm not able to stream it - and last night hit wonderful new lows:
1. middle-of-the-night me managed to convince himself that the reason the internet wasn't working was because cutting off a means of communication between people was a necessary step in the fascist overthrow of society, and then my rational brain had a very hard slog convincing me that this wasn't happening yet, never mind that it wasn't going to happen at all.
2. on and off sleep featuring the usual cacophony of Shitty Dreams
3. hypnogogic hallucinations; my brain thought it could hear people's voices in the (entirely instrumental) music playing while I slept, that they were discussing something which was a danger to me (this is a common dream theme simply because of school dorm/shitty ex experiences where "people speaking in low voices near where I'm sleeping" DID presage acts of violence/vandalism aimed at me, so I tend to be Overly Likely to attribute it to that when I'm not operating with 100% of my brain; while I was struggling with sleep paralysis and trying to remove my headphones so I could listen for the people speaking and hear what they were saying more clearly, something heavy started to press on my chest (logic suggests this was probably just Jess's arm) at which point my brain went bananas and tried very hard to get my body to move enough to shout for help or throw off the thing that was trying to stop me getting away, which in real life translated to some frantic mumbling until I was sympathetically informed that I was having a bad dream. NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
Surprisingly after all this I had a fairly good gym. The signs were not great at first; while running went okay it took until I'd finished lats and triceps AND biceps (the latter of which was a real fucking struggle for no apparent reason, even more strange considering the first two had been very good) before the pulley barbells became free, and then the guy who'd been hogging them (and mostly just sitting on the end of the bench) insisted on being helpful and clearing his weights away and putting the bench back down and being Friendly instead of fucking off. AND I couldn't find the weights I wanted because no one ELSE ever puts things back where they found them so was reduced to asking someone if anyone was using the correct ones when I finally located them - he was perfectly nice and friendly despite being built like he'd eaten two of me and then repeatedly deadlifted a further two of me for many years, and I got angry with myself for being affected by that (STUPID SOCIAL MONKEY WHY DOES THE REMOVAL OF A PERCEIVED THREAT MAKE YOU HAPPY YOU'RE PATHETIC) and THEN post barbells someone else who seems to more or less live in the damn gym was ALSO polite and cheerful (it's sunny. That's why) and I had to go away and row things until my brain stopped being a mess.
Speaking of messy brains: I continue to skip my way merrily through The Mint while doing my cool-down cycling and more than ever I want to pick up Lawrence by the shoulders and shake him repeatedly while shouting YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MENTALLY ILL AND THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO DEAL WITH IT IN THIS WAY BECAUSE IT IS NOT HELPING YOU. [And it is too familiar].
It is Setsubun today. I plan to go into town when I've finished my edit notes. Gonna lob beans at Jess later, and Lindsay, if he's still here when she gets back from work.
(https://www.instagram.com/p/BQA4i4kDYXD/ for other)
Which involved Lindsay "mothering" me (his own words) about the lie of said suit. It's his shirt, not that he ever wears it.
Following a coffee break and further updates on the ongoing relationship dramas of one of Jess's co-workers (she has the unfortunate characteristic of being a magnet for shitty, Shitty men, one presumes because she is - by Jess's account, I haven't seen her - extremely pretty, meaning shitty, shitty men feel entitled to her, and reasonably accommodating up to the point where she isn't any more, which she has apparently now been pushed to), I marched off to Broadgate to meet
Shoryu was, foodwise, as pleasant as ever - voici (https://www.instagram.com/p/BQBUmNzD3Z9/?taken-by=derekdesanges) and ici (https://www.instagram.com/p/BQBfdkKj2GP/?taken-by=derekdesanges) - and we totally failed to avoid talking about The Awfulness, although at this point we were mostly fantasising about dying, I bribed L with chocolate ("If you're going to leave the country please remember you promised I could have an Exit Kit from the hospital pharmacy"), L accused me of making things happen by writing about them ("you did this with ebola! Now you're doing it with post-nuclear - CAN'T YOU WRITE SOMETHING A BIT MORE POSITIVE, I know it's not exactly your comfort zone--"), I admitted I was in actual fact planning to basically destroy reality entirely this year. Which really doesn't differentiate me much from most politicians at the moment.
But at least dinner was nice; I tried to persuade L that she wants to at least come to dance classes or something likewise FUN! And NOT ON THE INTERNET! before she is burnt out by the demands of work and the hell that is current politics in a country that is behaving almost as fucking dementedly as America and with even less excuse. Tramped back the way I'd come in order to buy some Pointless Health Nonsense from the place I'd been hanging around in before, and arrived home too late to really type up any of my writing.
I'm not sleeping particularly well at the moment - I've extended myself to buying a copy of "Weightless" so that I can listen to it when I'm not able to stream it - and last night hit wonderful new lows:
1. middle-of-the-night me managed to convince himself that the reason the internet wasn't working was because cutting off a means of communication between people was a necessary step in the fascist overthrow of society, and then my rational brain had a very hard slog convincing me that this wasn't happening yet, never mind that it wasn't going to happen at all.
2. on and off sleep featuring the usual cacophony of Shitty Dreams
3. hypnogogic hallucinations; my brain thought it could hear people's voices in the (entirely instrumental) music playing while I slept, that they were discussing something which was a danger to me (this is a common dream theme simply because of school dorm/shitty ex experiences where "people speaking in low voices near where I'm sleeping" DID presage acts of violence/vandalism aimed at me, so I tend to be Overly Likely to attribute it to that when I'm not operating with 100% of my brain; while I was struggling with sleep paralysis and trying to remove my headphones so I could listen for the people speaking and hear what they were saying more clearly, something heavy started to press on my chest (logic suggests this was probably just Jess's arm) at which point my brain went bananas and tried very hard to get my body to move enough to shout for help or throw off the thing that was trying to stop me getting away, which in real life translated to some frantic mumbling until I was sympathetically informed that I was having a bad dream. NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
Surprisingly after all this I had a fairly good gym. The signs were not great at first; while running went okay it took until I'd finished lats and triceps AND biceps (the latter of which was a real fucking struggle for no apparent reason, even more strange considering the first two had been very good) before the pulley barbells became free, and then the guy who'd been hogging them (and mostly just sitting on the end of the bench) insisted on being helpful and clearing his weights away and putting the bench back down and being Friendly instead of fucking off. AND I couldn't find the weights I wanted because no one ELSE ever puts things back where they found them so was reduced to asking someone if anyone was using the correct ones when I finally located them - he was perfectly nice and friendly despite being built like he'd eaten two of me and then repeatedly deadlifted a further two of me for many years, and I got angry with myself for being affected by that (STUPID SOCIAL MONKEY WHY DOES THE REMOVAL OF A PERCEIVED THREAT MAKE YOU HAPPY YOU'RE PATHETIC) and THEN post barbells someone else who seems to more or less live in the damn gym was ALSO polite and cheerful (it's sunny. That's why) and I had to go away and row things until my brain stopped being a mess.
Speaking of messy brains: I continue to skip my way merrily through The Mint while doing my cool-down cycling and more than ever I want to pick up Lawrence by the shoulders and shake him repeatedly while shouting YOU ARE SERIOUSLY MENTALLY ILL AND THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO DEAL WITH IT IN THIS WAY BECAUSE IT IS NOT HELPING YOU. [And it is too familiar].
It is Setsubun today. I plan to go into town when I've finished my edit notes. Gonna lob beans at Jess later, and Lindsay, if he's still here when she gets back from work.