On Sunday morning I wake up.
Waking up is not a good start to any day, so I suppose I’m already fucked.
Considering that unfortunately I don’t have a lover who pays me, even though I would very much like one so I can just sit at home and write, and yes, this is an open invitation for offers, I get ready and I meet up with Scott and we go to the gym.
On Sunday it’s very warm and sunny, which means that the gym is empty, and at this empty gym we do arms and abs and then we go to Hyde Park to hang out with Donnell, Brendan and a wider group of 8, maybe 12, maybe 55 of their friends, some of which I’ve never seen before, some of which I see occasionally and one of which I’d like to see tied up in my cellar.
When we enter the park I am wearing this:
When we enter the park Scott is wearing this:
I am wearing grey knee-length shorts from Bershka, red Duffer belt, navy long-sleeved hoodie from Fred Perry, white socks from H&M, white Puma trainers, my gym top spread over the only exposed part of my body, i.e. my calves, dark sunglasses from ___, red Abercrombie & Fitch baseball cap. Scott is wearing a pair of Speedos.
During this afternoon in Hyde Park:
- everyone is getting a tan / I am not getting a tan
- everyone is obsessing about steroidy Brazilian prostitutes who are walking past / I am only obsessing about myself
- Brendan tell me that he’s looking forward to reading in the blog how I’ve slagged off everyone for wanting to get a tan / I insist that I have no intention of slagging off everyone for wanting to get a tan, I just want to continue my one-man-versus-the-world campaign in favour of glowing white skin
On the way out of the park Scott and Donnell attempt to take the piss out of me for my current obsession, but I take no offence – I am too busy admiring the outfits in this picture below, I consider them for myself.
Then Scott and Donnell come to mine, then we have dinner, then we take these pictures of me and Scott stood next to each other to compare our skin tones…