Sunday, 13 January 2008

Sunday 13/01/08

And on Friday after the gym I come home and then go back out again (I did say I would go out more from now on) and I meet Scott and Donnell at the Box.  And I don’t necessarily want to go and chat to everyone that I know there, but on the other hand I don’t want to hide away completely and not look at anyone as I would have a few months ago.  I don’t know if I like becoming more human again or not.

(Look at this hole inside your heart, no one can ever fill, it's like the Grand Canyon; look at this gap that's opened up between you and the world, it's like the Grand Canyon, etc) 

And while we’re at the Box Donnell tells me at one point, “I’m feeling pleasantly ___” and I tell him “I’m feeling pleasantly in a coma” and then he tells me “At least you’re not being sick which is your normal state”.

Then I get a text from Orville who I’m supposed to meet on Saturday afternoon and he says: “Sorry to text so late.  I’m sure I’m only interrupting a rerun of Frasier, perhaps the episode where he gets rid of his Dad’s chair” and I reply “I’m actually at the Box.  I’ll text you tomorraoww. I felt I had to spell something wrong to portray a trashed image” and Orville replies that I don’t need to spell anything wrong to portray a trashed image and then Scott goes to work and Donnell and I are joined by a friend of Donnell’s and then we get a text inviting us to a birthday party in west London, and against all odds we decide to go, even though it’s midnight already.

And at the party, which takes place a beautiful apartment where everything is either white – the ceiling, walls, artwork – or covered in mirrors – the kitchen, some pillars – lots of things happen and when the things finish happening I get a taxi and go back home and it’s 0330 and I take a Valium, then half an hour a take some Zimovane, then I pass out.

On Saturday afternoon Scott and I meet Orville in a location that Orville had suggested: in the centre of the financial district in London, just outside the Stock Exchange, which is a very odd location to meet for drinks, because at the weekend it’s like a ghost town and everything is closed.  Of course it turns out that when Orville meant to say let’s meet at Bond Street tube station he said let’s meet at Bank tube station (i.e. the other side of town), but I suppose it’s an easy mistake to make, anyone can confuse two areas just because they start with the same letter.  I feel kinda lucky he didn’t drag us all the way to Birmingham.

Then Scott and I go to the gym where we meet Donnell and Scott and Donnell do chest and I do legs, and there are two guys there that I like: one of them I like enough to be my boyfriend and the other I like enough to suck my cock, but neither of these things happen.

After the gym Donnell and Scott come back to my place and even though we intend to go out, we end up staying in (because those two can’t be bothered; I am more than willing to go out and flirt – and more – with random people) and we watch crap TV and I sing along (= shout) to No One by Alicia Keys and Heroine by Suede for everyone’s entertainment. 

Then Donnell goes home and Scott and I go and buy some chocolates and ice cream.  I eat my chocolate and spit each bite out on the way back from the shops, Scott eats his ice cream and then makes himself sick in the toilet, which he’s very pleased with because he says that way he gets to taste the ice cream twice, once on the way in and once on the way out.

Then we go to bed, where Scott takes the following picture of my abs, which I’m quite pleased with, so I guess what we can all learn from this is that spitting out the chocolate is worth it.


kim said...

mmm ... pasty abs ...

semistraight said...

Be careful with the whole bordering-on-having-an-eating-disorder-thing. Some time ago I lived with this bulimic girl...once she started to throw up regularly it all seriously went downhill. When I moved out she had more or less enclosed herself in her room, smoking pot and not eating all day (except some binging/purging at times).

Oh and "just" spitting it out might be better than throwing up cause the latter seriously messes with your electrolyte balance (risk of heart attack) plus the acid damages your teeth.

Sending some positive vibes your way

daze said...

Spitting it out? Throwing it up? Lets hope you dont get an article in More magazine... ;->

Frontier Psychiatrist said...

Scott's right.

If it's not mixed with anything, ice cream tastes just as good coming back up.

Andre said...

"lots of things happen and when the things finish happening I get a taxi and go back home"

this is the reason why I like the way you write. you don't really need to explain what kind of things has happened to give us (readers) a mental image of what did happen.

DAVID said...

Nice ab shot!

I got a chuckle out of whether the guys at the gym were boyfriend material, or just maybe could, as you put it bluntly, "suck your cock".

george said...

does scott use his fingers to purge or an accessory?...spitting is so much tastier........that taste of food returning and the after taste is urhh!!!......i'll try and not ask you about your sex life on here again. sorry it was not

Timmy said...

Andre stated it very well. I didn't need an explanation. I just imagined the things happening.

BTW...can you screen print your abs onto a t-shirt or body suit and send it to me so I can wear it when I go running? Would make quite an impression upon people.

London Preppy said...

george: I think the toothbrush comes in handy for Scott's activity

London Preppy said...

andre and timmy: That's right, people can fill the gaps and make their own stories!