Monday 15th May 2006

Clockwork Orange Cybercafe, Catrina Street, Porto, Portugal.

Dream

I was in Anne's garden. Mother called down from upstairs saying Junko was on the phone. I was overjoyed and raced in. When I spoke, it was someone else I didn't know and mother was really upset.

I was visiting the Dalai Lama. I saw him inside his study in a temple. I had a cut out in cardboard of a coffin. I told him it was such or a sarphopogous (no, I won't look it up).

He said it wasn't a coffin. I kept trying to convince him but he wouldn't believe me and I just accepted it.

Interpretation

That's not my coffin I guess... not just yet anyway.

OK, what's happened.

I left the day after M. was free and went up to York. I had megabus up to Leeds and walked up to York Backpackers. A South African checked me in. The room was very nice. I fell straight asleep as before I'd had one night wholly devoid of sleep in Olave.

I went out and it was about nine, but I found stuff open. I even had tea from a pasty shop. I came back and cooked, and sat in the bar. The clock ticked over past midnight and I was actually filling in Department of Work and pensions forms. Finally they've agreed to give me some cash, but stoppage because so much money disappeared so quickly. I wrote quick to A. then went to bed about two.

I checked out the next day and sat in a cafe for a bit, then walked over the Ouse to the YHA. It was a long way but nice when I got there. I was in pain, so rested first. I'd seen the art gallery and a bit of the cathedral first, so I was pretty tired.

I came back and shopped a little, but I just wanted to rest by then. There was a group of students in so I had to wait for the cooker, then I ate. It really started raining. I went out and posted a card to Junko anyway. Then I slept.

In the room there was a really talkative Dutch person and an old person who seemed irritated by him. I went out and called A.

She was OK. The funeral would be Friday. It turns out that Suriya had phoned, an old friend of my fathers who hasn't been in touch for thirty years. A. assumed he got the news from the paper, but of course, I had sent a postcard to my father.

Next day was wet. I went to Leeds and sat in BHS for four hours. I picked up a novel, three dollars, for 99p and read some, then down to London. We arrived about eleven. I always think about using the plural in those situations i.e. we for people you don't know on bus because Junko asked me about it once as I told her to use the singular pronoun, which is wrong isn't it?

I went over to Liverpool street. The train didn't go until 2:30am. so I sat and read the book. Then they closed the station. I had to sit opposite in some cafe. It was COLD.

The bus came and we went. I was still hours early, so ate, then stuffed my pockets in case my bag weighed more than the allowed ten kilograms.

When I checked in, it turns out it was three kilos, so I was way under.

The flight was eventless, other than I took no pills and was wholly calm. I think I'm over that fear now.

Getting to the Youth Hostel was easy, a bus went straight there. I checked in and it seemed OK.

The first night I just stayed there I think, or did I go somewhere... actually, I ... dunno. Well, I ate. I think I slept, then woke and ate my last slimming bar, then slept again?

Anyway, I stayed there six nights. For the first few nights there was this guy who would come in at three am and still be sleeping when I left.

Then a Brazilian called Alex checked in. He lives in Canada Water on Jubilee line. His girlfriend was born in Spain but had links to Portugal. He'd been working in a good job in computers in Brazil but in London only washes up so is thinking of going back because he still gets job offers from there as there's a shortage but in UK they want UK experience.

He spent a long time talking about the differences in Portugese language between here and his home, then we talked about London. I noticed it was no trouble. He was really good looking though. I realised that we do have more time for the attractive in life, even of the same gender. Why? If it had have been the same conversation with an eighty year old, then I wouldn't have been interested.

It was an OK time up there. It was nice in the kitchen; there are two little balconys to sit and eat on. It was cold at night, but I had a good think. All these people checked in and got to know each other. People tried to speak to me, and as usual I ended up on my own, which is fine to be honest.

I slept in the TV room one night. They only had two keys for the rooms and at night there are only security guards who aren't interested in helping you, though they were nice enough. The main thing was the bed. It was hard, but also the squekiest I've ever slept on. I used to lie for hours without moving so as not to disturb anyone, but would wake up in a lot of pain to start with.

But away from the damp of UK, I soon cured, well, was better, and I really settled into it. The weather is lovely, people very freindly, the city attractive, the cybercafe everything you could want in one. Sometimes I just walk along thinking how happy I was to be here.

I phoned A. Thursday night to find out what was happening for the funeral. It turns out M. had made me joint power of attorney, which no one knew about; I have equal rights as G. and will get a list of everything and can deal with the solicitor myself if I want. I was really touched by it, as no one knew, as I just said... though I can never thank her for that.

M left me her phone, as I knew how to use it and she didn't; I was always trying to show her. Carly had turned up with it and said it was for me, and A. said that I wouldn't want that because I have a great one that takes pictures. It cut me right up when I heard that. I don't have one like that; I have the cheapest fifteen pound one on the market. But it's typical of f*****g A. It's nothing to do with her and she's incapable of understanging sentimentality, keepsakes and not refusing gifts on behalf of people you don't really know.

So Friday I came and typed. At a quarter to three, I went up to this little church at the top of this street, Catrina. It's covered in blue and white tiles Portuguese style. Inside I sat and cried a bit. It had gold leaf everywhere but was old and grimy. Why are churches like that, there is no spirituality in them.

I spoke to M. in my mind and hoped she could hear.

Back at the cybercafe, I ended up at a site, basically a printer where you print and distribute your own books. For some reason I ended up looking up The Curse and Miracle of Expectation, formatted it and ordered a copy -- it should be on its way now. It can't be ordered in bookshops but can be bought from the site. It's a US company, but they're just opening a UK office. They do calenders and dvds too, all self-published. It's about the most positive thing I can think of at the minute.

I moved into a place in town, yesterday actually. Run by a Japanese woman. Only thirteen euros, but a private room with TV, which must be one of the deals of Europe.

That's about all that's happened to be honest. I stuck to the diet the whole time. Get this, I haven't had a drink since I stopped, months ago now isn't it; I haven't even been tempted. Mian wrote and said she isn't mad, though I didn't hear since; I think she's still a bit of a game player. She wrote saying she was wondering if I was still her only friend, which I took as a statement of friendship, and I just realised that it means, really, am I with someone else.

The game playing was the main reason I went off her.

So, what is going on now, what am I going to do?

Funny, peculiar that is, I'm listening to 'everyone's changing' by Keane now. It came out and I noticed it when I was sitting in BHS with M. a lot.

I mentioned a while a go that I was going to be very lonely soon, though I've had a long time to prepare, months since the illness, a year if you consider the obe and premonition in India, which is really why I am here, in Europe I mean.

I realise that I don't miss India now, and want to be done with it, for a long time and maybe forever. Asia yes, South Asia, no.

I hate England as much as I ever did and all my efforts must ultimately be geared towards not living there; I might be alright for the summer, but I shall try for not longer than that unless things are going particularly well and there's an ultimate get out plan.

I prioritised my goals and represented the magic in a coded page that only I understand wholly at magic page.

I have a list of the things I should do to at least get moving a little on return to UK. It's a to do list on a postcard, which is how I motivated myself to first leaving the country.

So little time, try to understand their lives. Try to make a move just to stay in the game. Try to stay awake and remember my name.

oh

Cos everyones changing and I don't feel right. So little time, to try to understand their lives.

Accomodation is going to be hard. I can't stay in hostels if the money is finite. There are only so many options for dss housing benefit payments. I must exhaust them all. There's the course idea. Publishing.

In london, I stay at the YHA in St. Pauls for a night. Then Globetrotter where I can do some washing. Then nothing, but I'll try and book Hampstead Heath before I leave the cybercafe. I don't want to go up to Northampton and get trapped. In london I went to that little cafe by St. James, and I think it would be nice to write there. Publishing can be my passion again as I'm starting to cling now, or grasp should I say.

But the Dalia Lama told me it wasn't a coffin.

Everybody's changing and I don't feel the same. So little time, to try and understand their lives.

There's not much is there? There hasn't been for a while. The thought of going back, using the jobpoint, tomato juice in William Morris. Never speaking to anyone. I can get use to never speaking. I never did, or can count the times I spoke on one hand. I'll always be like that.

I'm going over to Jardin Crystal tomorrow, a park, to write. It's strange. I read that book about love as a mental illness. The novel I bought to read here, three dollars, has a bit in it about being with a partner, and the whole thing, romance, being in love, a couple, courting -- it's really so that when your parents die you have one person to talk to and be accepted the same way. But of course it never really is.

Ohhhhhhhhh Everybody's changing and I don't feel the same.

I'm going to do some dialectic to clarify my lovesickness, whatever the problem is, my obsession with this person who's forgotten me. I kept wanting to do it here, at the computer, but I think better to write in the park and then type it. It's too raw and open for here.

It's nearly midnight here. I'm going home. I'll maybe write tomorrow.

Saturday 20th May 2006 About 7:30pm

Golders Green Road, North London.

Culled from a dialectic in Crystal Park (Jardan Palace de Crystal (or something)), my love cure.

Monday 22nd May 2007, about 9pm.

Golders Green Road, North London.

I hate this.

I hate it.

I don't want to be here.

I might not stop my diet.

1200 calories a day, until I look starving.

Ticket somewhere sunny.

Glass of iced tea.

Stop all fluids.

Nil by mouth.

Go and see M.

Tuesday 23rd May 2006

Golders Green

Oh God; it just keeps getting more stupid.

OK... so what happened since Portugal? Well... the last day I went back to Jardam Crystal and basically thought. I was even positive somewhat with the idea of a publishing business.

I went and got my bag, then went to the airport. There I had a coffee and was paranoid that I was supposed to double-confirm my ticket. The building was strange, all steel and glass and I noticed that everything was different shades of grey, or perhaps that's just how I was seeing it?

I came in... and where did I stay? Oh, yes. It was horrible. At the airport, a customs woman took my corkscrew and asked my name and I was paranoid I was going to get picked up in London.

The flight was very nice; I honestly enjoyed it. The staff were making jokes and happy. We touched down and it was raining and cold, depressing straight away. I went through customs OK and got the bus in. I ate a tin of sweetcorn, a big one, which was pretty much all I had, then I got off at Liverpool Street. It was so cold but thankfully there was still some credit on my Oyster card, so I got off at St. Pauls and got directions from a taxi driver for the youth hostel.

It was OK. Next day I just walked and found coffee. I went to Hammersmith, of course (I think), and did a full wash. They've introduced a ticket system on the bags, meaning I can't leave them indefinitely I think.

Next day I signed on. I noticed the writing magazine that ripped me off was still advertising at the job centre, so I complained officially and they're looking into it.

I stayed there a bit and finally bought the USB I've been thinking about for ages from Argos. Only 128mb. but served by a real idiot. I won't even say what he said and did.

Then I came up to the Youth Hostel. The boy who checked me in was also really aggressive. The website I booked at offered a three pound discount for HI members, but he completely denied it, so I had to complain at the site but paid because it was evening.

I met this mad French guy in the dorm; he's really funny. He came to England from Paris in his car, to live got two years to improve his English. He's half Tunisian, and explained in broken English how polarised black people are in France; he's really aware of his race and France seems an unwelcoming place for him. Most evenings we sit and talk, him a little too much perhaps.

Last night I went down to cook and there are all these people who've made friends, and I stay silent of course. I heard them say about me, 'perhaps he needs to be around people but doens't know how' and another said, 'but sitting and staring at things isn't the right way to be about it.' I think perhaps one of them tried to talk to me and I missed it?

I finished eating and sat in the rain in the garden. I realised that there's a fair chance I wouldn't have anywhere to stay at the weekend. I cried for a bit, feeling really alone.

I went inside and the French guy was there. We had a really good laugh together. For example, we were talkning about the mediterranian. He said how many mermaids there were, which is actually a compliment towards females in French. Then he showed me an application form. It the section, 'Do you have any health problems', he wrote, 'no problem, no opperations, no allergies, all body OK.'

He told me how much money people make in Japan; they like people our race because Japanese like Asian colour but not eye-folds. He had a couple of friends who just went, but without qualifications, but came back with a load of money.

I phoned the woman about the course just after I got back, Thursday actually. It was arranged for today. What an absolute joke, honestly. I had arranged to pick up a book from Victoria library I need, plus get my bag from Hammersmith. It was going to be busy and I'd just drop in for interview.

They made me fill in a form, sat me in front of a computer and it's self-learning. A Word simulator shows you how to use word. I used it a little, realsied that it's written for four year olds, that if you touch-type fast short-cuts it marks it as wrong. It kept saying 'well done, that's right', when you performed actions in the slowest way possible. I turned it off after half an hour and just sat there. Nine am to three pm.

He came back and looked surprised. He asked had I finished it and I said yes, so he said I could sit the 'exam', which is an online test. You need 75% or more to pass, then you sit the real one. I got 87%, so they arranged the real one.

Then he said it was 35 pounds to register for the course, and fifteen pounds if I fail the exam. I asked why no one had told me that and he said he didn't know, and basically f*** off if I don't like it. Which I did.

I walked out onto Parson's Green as happy as pie that it was over and I was away from the bordom. I looked at the folder he'd given me and it wasn't even the right course, it was customer service introduction.

But it's mad. When I signed up they made me check boxes to say I was interested in construction (hah, they did the same thing at school) because when I (they) did this they get 40,000 from the European Social Fund to train me, but once there, you can't really call it training. It's just people sitting in a room, following infantile instructions on a screen and no one speaking. He didn't tell me about the travel allowance, the free lunch, or anything else everyone knew. It was like the 'students' were the after-thought. The most worrying thing was that many of the students actually seemed challenged by the software. Hahahahahahahahahaha ONLY FOR LIMEYS.

So I came back and had a coffee. The French guy went past so he came and spoke. It was funny again, he'd been to the French centre where they offer induction to UK courses that are hundreds of pounds and only include a job and an A to Z; it was funny.

It's been a horrible time though. There are all these papers to deal with. M. told A before she was free that she wanted Carly to have her jewlery, but G. refuses and says he wants Louise to have it, which is why, A. told me, she wanted Carly to have it; she hated Louise, or at least was never close to her. It's something she told me pretty much the last time we could speak.

I managed to get accomodation over the weekend, a different place every day until past the Bank Holiday, then I have no idea. I tried to do too many things at once since I returned, and managed doing nothing, perhaps I got carried away with the capacity of the USB.

The situation is unchanged. I have benefits with stoppage, no permanent address, no job, no employ, no friends, no ... no, don't say that. I imagine M. sometimes, like in the garden last night, telling me to go on, try the next thing. There are still things to try and enough money for now. Places to be. Ideas. Hope. Yes, wherever she is, perhaps M. sees and is happy I march forth (even though I don't feel like it).

After it all, still 100% sober, every single day. NEVER for one day, slipped up on the diet since I started it.

There's an empty feeling though. Like this course thing. Before I would tell M. She would be on my side of course and tell me to move onto something else, the next idea, then we'd see the funny side somehow and have a laugh. Tonight I'll sit alone and think about it, then the French man will come and practice his English and be eccentric, and perhaps irritate me a little and cheer me up a little at the same time.

I want to say 'I wish J. was here', but I'm trying to stop this illness and ideation.

... OK. Better now.

I wish M were here

Tuesday 30th May 2006

Just off Queensway, Bayswater, London.

Not time for news now.

I recieved the email below. It contained an attachment selling something, i.e. was basically spam. On the page, it had this random nonsense in very light blue to trick internet spiders into thinking it was about something else, fooling the spam filter with nonsense, but the name is Junko Sage. Until I realised what it was it was making sense to me.

Very frightening.

Junko Sage to me
More options May 1

knew thinking tears spoken not? rich understand account here ground glad.
sugar spent reached obliged.
appear wanted parents gym build? spot changed how obliged winter. got seize back mischievous.
matter room why important steps. progress you showed dark different? short bridge immediate letters understand.
everyone reference likely summary companion?

Wednesday 31st May 2005

Bayswater

A good phoning round tomorrow to see about accomodation and things.

Monday 12th June 2006

Palmers Lodge, Backpackers Boutique Hostel, College Crescent, Swiss Cottage, North London, about a quarter past five am.

A very long time since updating eh?

I'm having to refer to my diary to do this update. Some of this might be wrong, and a lot of it definitely in the wrong order, but I think you'll get the gist of it.

I left the Youth Hostel and went to Princes lodge in Bayswater; the cheapest hostel in Baywater. It's full of French people and tatty, not that both are necessarily negative. But the computers there do all day passes and Kennsington Gardens are beautiful.

I ordered The Curse and Miracle of Expectation on Mother's funeral, mainly as a whim, if it hadn't have been that day then it's the kind of thing I would have thought about for ages and maybe decided against it. I'm using www.lulu.com as the printer.

After all this time, it hadn't arrived, so I chased it up. I went to the message boards, then had live chat. They've had European printer problems, and so promised it was on the way , for free; I got a refund as it had taken too long.

On 24th May I phoned the solicitor dealing with M's will. I spoke to Caterina and had an appointment to see Mr. Scott, M's solicitor. Actually, it might have been the 24th that I went back to A's for a night. She showed me the bank statement from the money M left me to live on. It's all in A's name, but she said it's OK because Mr. Scott knows it's yours.

The thing I remember about going back is about A going on about my case. If you recall, all my life A has been throwing the things I care about away. When I came back from Asia the first time I had two rooms full of keepsakes, photos, manuscripts, diaries etc. I had to get rid of all of it, most of it I mean, in case she wanted to go into a home. So I managed to get it all down to my one silver suitcase, medium size.

Well it was hard. I spent a lot of time upset, in the parks of London and Northampton, photocopying books, writing, art etc. and threw each one away, somehow it was better that I do it, destroy it myself, rather than let her do it.

All I have left is the suitcase with two folders of papers, like my will and stuff, my photographic negatives, cd's from the negatives, a small box of photos and the box with J's stuff in.

And she wants it either out or unpacked.

This is the last of my stuff; the things I can't bear to throw away. If I unpack it, I know sooner or later it will be binned, like nearly all of my childhood possessions and much of what I sent back.

I'm looking into storage.

Another thing I recall is that when I went upstairs; M had left me her phone. She'd told Carly to give it to me. When she told A, A argued that I wouldn't want it because I have one that takes pictures (I don't, I have the cheapest phone available in the UK). Give Carly her dues, it's only because she absolutely insisted, that it was on the bed waiting for me.

With the phone, there was a business card I made years ago in Nepal to advertise The Happiness Hike. M had kept it for some reason and written her email address on it. I don't know why. It was so symbolic to walk in and see them together. It was like a message, because what I'm about to embark on is to collate and... you know, everything I did in Asia, which is the writing, but it's not quite ready to publish, so that's what I decided to do for a time.

It was straight into the box, to protect it. But now, A keeps mentioning it. It's happened before. One day I come home and something will be missing. I'll come down in tears knowing what she'll say next, 'but you didn't want that .......... [irreplacable photo, memory, card, keepsake], what for?

Ah, some of the things. I remember once the fair came to town. I won a babmi at some game, and it was straight in the bin the same day. A brass bell that Elizabeth gave me as a gift when I was about nine, straight in the bin as soon as she saw it. The only Valentines cards I ever got as a kid, ripped up the same day, AS I WAS STUPID ENOUGH TO ACTUALLY SHOW THEM TO HER AND THEM TURN MY BACK FOR A MOMENT.

So, I'll pay for storage. It's just a worry if I can't sort it out in the meantime. If I lost that box, they'd be nothing.

Next day, 25th May, I went to town and met Mr. Scott, actually from Scotland. He explained everything. Mother's estate is split into three parts, a part for me and G, and one for Yasmine's children. This is seperate from her share in the business, which is completely left for G, which is fair enough as that was never anything to do with me. None of this was really. Mother always said not to expect anything from her at all, fair enough. I'm happy with the keepsakes. Living with A, I've only saved two from the bin. A necklace she have me and I was wearing when I knew J. and the phone. She doesn't know about the necklace... which is probably why I still have it. I hid it in an envelope I sent back when I was a kid.

Probate wouldn't be ready about three weeks from now. He (Scott) lives in the same village, or nearby, as G. and they seem close; he drinks in G's pub. He knows there's some 'friction' between us, but no one really seems to ever understand how strongly I feel about it. He seemed to think we could go together and swear some oath or whatever.

The funeral expenses need to be paid for, two thousand pounds. He wanted me to sign something for this to be paid, so I did.

Oh, this was another thing. Before I went back to Northampton, G. had gone to A's. He didn't knock, but pushed a note through the door saying he was busy and asking A to give me a form to sign. It was to release the mother's main bank account, into his name. A was unsure, and quite offended by the note.

I showed it to Mr. Scott. He knew nothing about it although G's note had implied that the solicitor had asked me to sign it. Because no money can be released until probate is granted, so G was being "premature"; though I think 'premature' is being kind.

Well, business was out the way. He was going to contact me via A's, and send me the TOB for signing. I went back to London.

I think I stayed in Globetrotter. Tuesday was a new moon. Saturday I was definitely in Globetrotter. I checked in and lay on the bed. Three women from Alabama checked in. The main one introduced herself as... can't remember, but she kept calling everyone 'comrade'. I think she was Katey, the others Kate and Avery. They were really formal and shook my hand.

Saturday I was in a cybercafe and the French guy from the Youth Hostel phoned me. He thought I was still in Golders Green and wanted me to go over, he said he'd been sleeping in a car. I said I'd do it the next day.

Next day I went to see him. I was changing trains at Embankment when A phoned and said that the TOB had come. I got to Golders Green and I met the French guy in a car park. He loves that car. We spent a night in the Youth Hostel car park once, everything centres around it. This day we stood and talked.

He'd found a job in a garage, basically parking cars that are ready for MOT. He'd had an accident and scratched a Cherokee, and now wasn't sure if he was going to be allowed back. He seemed really upset. We spoke for ages. He hadn't noticed my bad leg and I didn't mention it; some people notice, some don't, I never say. I was in pain. He wanted to go 'to the place where everyone goes', meaning in Paris there are places where you can just hang about and meet people, but in London no.

He's called Medhi or something. Divorced. Child in France. Unemployed.

He suddenly remembered that he'd left rice cooking, so we sped off while he dealt with it. he came back and a friend phoned him, she needed a lift.

We went to a house nearby. He explained that he met 'this mad woman', a Hungarian called Ushi. She was waiting in the street, about twenty, an aupair, her job had just finished and she was waiting to find somewhere to live. She had to go to Edgeware road to leave some jacket for someone she was working with in a restaurant; I didn't really get the story.

So we drove off. It was funny watching them. His English is really bad and hers average, they could communicate but only just. She seemed really hung over and talked about some Hungarian guy who spent three hundred pounds in one night. We kept driving, going past the rubbish hostel I stayed at in Hendon.

We ended up at her friends house. She needed a credit card because she actually needed to break in. They left and a traffic warden came, so I had to phone him and we both waited. She got back and we drove.

Driving back, she turned and looked at me for a very long time. She said I don't talk much and I nodded, then we actually talked a lot. She told me she hadn't met anyone 'proper English' [SIC] and it would be nice if I could give her conversation lessons. She was going for a job in Soho soon, but really needed somewhere to live. We kept talking as Medhi went and bought himself alcohol.

Back at her place, we shook hands and she was really polite. I wanted to get back, so we went back to the station and we said goodbye.

On the Underground going home, an Indian woman fell on me and we were really British about it, the whole train pretending it hadn't happened.

I've made less notes after this. I got stuck into work. I've written in my little black diary dreams are life speeded up. We manifest out fears in one slowly and the other instantly.

I'll just write it as I can recall it.

I had a mad night in St. Christophers, Shepards Bush. Past midnight in the 'chill out' room, there was a group of Australians. Mad. Wrecked. They were kind of playing a game of connect four mixed with trivial pursuit, next to a ping pong table. They were so drunk.

One man went to the table and got a vodka and coke. He walked to the centre of the room and just stood there, and kind of looked at me, then tipped his drink all over the floor before him. I don't mean on purpose. He kind of focused on me, then forgot that he was holding anything, and so, it was funny because he completely emptied a whole glass as though it was done on purpose but evidently not so.

He looked down and swore, and focused on the spilt liquid, then looked up at me and asked if I was the manager. I smiled while trying not to laugh and shook my head. He said, 'oh, right', and walked off. As he walked past the ping pong table, he knocked the net over and it got tangled in his collar. He got himself free and fixed it and went off.

He came back with a load of tissues, looked at the liquid, looked at me, and again asked it I was the manager. I shook my head. He knelt down and scrubbed for about five minutes, then got up and walked away. As he went past the ping pong table he again got tangled in the net and had to balance the wet tissue while he fixed it.

He put the tissue in the bin about two feet away and went to get another drink, AGAIN, getting tangled in the net on the way past. He called over to someone at the table, 'I keep getting tangled in this net', and stood and fixed it. He finally managed to, and the person he had spoken to came over and asked, 'Is this the net you broke', touching the clamp that held it in place, then they both watched it fall to the floor.

I went down to the rear entrance to smoke. Two women came who had reservations but hadn't checked in. It was about one am. now, so I let them in even though there would be no one to check them in.

The drunk guy passed them coming up the stairs. He stood and looked at me for a minute and seemed confused. He asked if I was the manager. I shook my head. He said, 'Oh, right', and walked up the stairs.

About ten minutes later I went up to brush my teeth and am pretty sure I heard him asleep on the toilet.

Next day I had an appointment at Threshhold, the housing advice centre. I met the lady in charge who gave me my housing options. Apparently, I'll likely wait up to five years on Locata, possibly up to seven, and there's no chance of finding somewhere local to accept dss payments. So, I can try the Hammersmith YMCA, which 'never has vacencies', a private hostel in Hammersmith, which 'rarely has vacencies', or there's a housing cooperative in Hackney who sometimes can accept people in three weeks. It's horrible. I looked at the leaflet. I'd need two professional leaflets. It's a coop that was set up to house the homeless and 'creative' people. I don't know; perhaps it would have to be a last resort. I really don't know. Perhaps I should go to Hackney and have a proper look around.

I went up to see Medhi another time. Again we met in the car park, drove about. Again he left the rice on. Ushi phoned and said she wanted to go and hang about in Islington. He said let's go, but I wanted to use the computer, so he let me out in the high street and I went and did that.

I've stayed in Bayswater a few times now, mainly for the all day tickets on the computer. It's nice. I go to Kennsington Gardens and lie on my back looking at the clouds. It's an Indian summer right now. In the midst of the troubles, I do have these moments of incredible happiness based on... just being alive. It's strange.

I got into learning new things. I mean I always am anyway, but I decided to publish all the writing I have stored myself, likely through lulu. So I learnt GIMP, the open source photoshop, open office, Impress. I got all library books and studied. Also NLP a lot, and a book about consciousness. I mean, I'm always studying, but a lot more than usual. I ended up with an A4 notebook full of notes and got another book about mindmaps, so I could at least turn it all into pictorial form, then realised I could make a life plan this way... and this and that and this and that. I, for some reason and at the strangest time, am having some kind of creative burst.

The world cup started. Last time I was in Nepal, the only one I ever really followed. I remember how ill I was, thanks to G. I recall wondering if I'd be alive for the next. I also recall that was the one, about that time, that year, that I last heard from Junko, and it was two before that I met her.

Today, Japan play Australia. I don't know if I'll be somewhere to watch the game; I hope so. I'll be rooting for the Japanese. The other day I was supporting Paraguay against England, but they lost. I always support the team against England; I hate these people.

Lying on my back in Kennsington Gardens, I phoned A and she told me there was a package for me arrived from Spain. THAT must be my book. YES! I'm going back on a two pound day trip tomorrow. I came down here with all the cd's and stuff, photos, and basically want to store it again, of course, now I'm scared that my suitcase isn't safe, the lock is broken, it's there unopened.

But one things I did do. I have all these cd's of the copied diaries, manuscripts etc. About seventy with back ups. I wanted to put it all on a DVD, and finally, I DID GET THAT DONE. I was so relieved. I've wanted it, a lot, for a very long time. I have them with me, and I'll take them back tomorrow. Very nice.

G's really shot himself in the foot. First, I don't know if I said, A got it from C. he phoned his father for the first time in 30 years, and invited him up. So we don't know how that went or if it'll be a regular thing, but A hated it, M would have hated it. I think it's funny myself.

I phoned A, lying on my back, to ask advice about the solicitor TOB. I explained the document. 175 pounds an hour for charges, including thinking about matters, and I'll get a bill monthly. She got het up because G. said that he's negociated a fee of a flat 2% of the estate. She phoned today about it. If we're both being billed, then that would mean, theoretically, that I would be paying for things G. has asked for. So A asked me to send her the papers I have, tob etc. and today, Monday, Mr. Smith, the accountant, is coming for other business, to do with me I think, and she's going to ask his opinion. I wrote to Mr. Scott and said I will get back to him before the 19th.

Recently I've been working on turning the Happiness Hike into a book. In Bayswater, some guy looked at my screen and begged for the details of where it can be bought. I gave him the free address. I hope that's a good sign.

If I try and make available the following, as a retrospective:

• The Happiness Hike
• Life Magic
• The Curse and Miracle of Expectation
• A full colour picture book
• Travel writing/culled diary
• Ambrosia
• Aphelia
• Apasia

This is a good list. For the novels, I only have the photographed manuscripts (thanks G&A), but I'm trying to use ocr to make them better. If not, they'll just have to be pdf's. Like the photo book. Most of the picures I took are in the bin, I mean over a thousand, and the others not developed. It's just going to be a retrospective of everything I've done so far.

Last time I signed on, this was the 1st June, it turns out it was six months since I started claiming benefit, so I had to have a special interview. I didn't know until I was there waiting. The guy next to me was in the same situation, but he was under twenty-five, so was getting the 'new deal', and it sounded awful. The sum total of my experience, was that I had to add another catagory to the jobs I'm looking for. I put down 'animal carer' because he wouldn't let me put 'journalist'.

I've had to make a lot of complaints also. I ended up writing to the head office of the youth hostels about the non-appearing discount. Hostelworld accidentally admitted I should have got one thinking I was only asking about a future possible booking, but then said that they only made two pounds on it and so it was nothing to do with them.

I left money in a two year bond with the Coventry building society two years ago with instructions that it was to go to my current account at Nationwide on maturity, as I thought I'd be abroad and could use it to fund the card.

Wednesday 14th June 2006

Palmers' Lodge, College Crescent, Swiss Cottage, London -- 12:15am.

You only get thirty minutes here online a day, and so the last trunciated entry is when someone disturbed me, well, I mean I couldn't sleep and so was typing while their computers weren't booked.

Now I can get on again because there's no connection, but I have the luxury of a USB key and so can work offline. I think it will be nice to have a little type here in the reception. I can make up for all the times recently that I didn't write.

Firstly, I recall the last trunciated entry. I was saying about Coventry Building Society. I opened the bond (sorry if I'm repeating myself), two years ago with instructions to pay it into Nationwide so I could fund my credit card should I be abroad. But it matured about a month ago and a letter came saying they were going to open another two year bond with a ten day cooling off period, after which the money would be tied up.

Well I complained obviously, and a letter came back that they can't actually access original instructions because they have too many accounts. So this is not good, illegal I would have thought. So I ended up complaining to the FSA.

Yesterday, well actually the day before, it was an insane day, or a different day or whatever.

I started out going up to Golders Green. I didn't phone Medhi; I wanted to work. I think it was the day I was last updating this. I only woke about an hour; sleeplessness is becoming a real problem now. Sometimes I only get an hour. I don't know what going to happen about it long-term; I can't carry on like this. But I'm not thinking long-term right now. I'm thinking medium term, or short-term or whatever.

Anyway, I did get stuck into some work, formatting The Happiness Hike. I logged into Lulu, the printer that did my book (The Curse and Miracle of Expectation). I made it available to the public, so that I could print it, but with a warning that it was only an uncorrected galley, only for people who can't wait.

Looking at my account, SOMEONE'S BOUGHT ONE. I was gobsmacked! I've only mentioned it in a couple of places, so I have no idea who, but GOD, it spurred me on alright I can tell you. Now I'm paranoid that it's no good and they will feel cheated... then again, they're only expecting a galley. It's that thing that's already delivered to Anne's place for correcting.

Anyway, I left about midday because, the world cup's started and Japan were playing Australia. I came back to watch it in Walkabout, the Australian pub here in Swiss Cottage. I was about half an hour early and had a coke. By the time the game started, it was absolutely packed. I couldn't stop thinking of J (of course), but in a sharply, heavy way that was painful, and this is how it always is now. I felt sentimental in a sinking, hypnnotised way, which is also the way it always is. Why am I like this?

Anyway, the proceedings started. The Australian national anthem played and they all stood up. There was a table of Japanese, but they didn't stand up when theirs played. All the colours and insignia just kept on taking me back in time in a yearning way that wasn't happy or pleasent. I kept wondering if she'd be watching it.

The commentator explained that Australia have only ever played in one world cup, and in three games they never scored but conceeded ten goals; Japan did well last tournament as I recall, being on home soil half the time.

A huge cheer as the game kicked off.

Japan scored. The Aussies started shouting, it was controversial, they were saying that the goalkeeper was pushed.

I lost my concentration, but it came back when they kept shouting. Australia equalised and the crowd went mad. In more lively atmosphere they cheered them onto a second goal, and they all stamped so hard that I thought the floor would cave in. It the end score was Japan 1 Australia 3, and I was bursting for the toilet, so I went to the nearby O2 centre and used the bathroom, then there was a pub so I had a coffee. Whenever I come into contact of strong Japanese or Australian symbols or atmospheres, I always get these moods I can't shake off. Every single memory. WHAT HAPPENED TO ME THERE?

I went and sat outside for some fresh air. I'd previously phoned A. from Kensington Gardens, to talk about the solicitors TOB, and I'd also asked what would happen to Mother's ashes. G. had some plan to put them under a tree in a farmers field. I asked if I could have some and she said she didn't know. I said I would phone and she said fine.

So outside the O2 centre, I phoned. I asked what I'd need to do to collect them, and he said just come. He asked me what time I'd be there and I said that I didn't know what was happening yet and I'd have to speak to my Aunt.

I came home and was so tired, I slept for an hour, and my mind woke me up just minutes before the planned call from A. even though she was four hours early.

Mr. Smith, the accountant had looked at the solicitor's TOB and said it was all fine and that I should just sign them, so OK.

Also, there's been this call from G. He's upset because the funeral director phoned and said that I had arranged to pick up the ashes without telling anyone.

I explained no, A and I already agreed that I would phone, I specifically told them that I had to speak to my Aunt first. She was suspicious because I had booked a day trip back, but I only did that because I was returning to get rid of all the cd's I'm carrying. Later that night I decided not to go anyway because I can't get accomodation for Saturday again, and if I'm going anyway there was no point going on Tuesday, so I probably looked even more suspicious.

God, I'm sick of G. Upset. Does she ever tell him I'm upset. He explodes out of nothing, is always the victim. A wavers, completely sick of him at one point, and full of his praises the next. I've had enough of this.

It's the work I'm doing now that sustains me. I loosely finished formatting The Happiness Hike today. Looking over the writing, especially the contacts and exchanges I've had with people over the years, I feel that the whole thing justifies what I've done with my life so far. I mean, I'm not wholly healed, still have the J. obsession, but I know what caused it, how I did this to myself, how to try and cure it, and if I overcome it, it shall be a method I shall publish, and sooner or later the letters will start coming from people it has helped because this is what I do and did and will always do, I solve my minds problems and look for the answers and give people what I find.

There's loads to do, but it's meant to be. I feel good to get this sorted out. I recall the last world cup. I was never into it until I saw the Ireland game when they scored the last minute against Germany and all the people in Nepalese restaurant I was in went mad. It was exactly then that I had just finished The Curse and Miracle of Expectation and was just putting it online and selling the first copies. It's full circle. This is what I've done.

So here I am, making my retrospective and getting my stuff ready for storage. I don't know what will happen. I feel good to be on the diet. I'm losing weight. I started March 20th and weighed myself about two weeks later. I was 95 kilos.

The last time I weighed myself at A's, wearing the same undies, I was 85 kilos, so it's working as it should, i.e. half to one kilo a week. I'm still overweight though. I don't know how long now.

So I'm starting to put a time-frame on things. I sold that book on Japan/Australia day, which was just a tad after the full moon. The World cup runs through until, well, the final is just two days before a full moon, so I think good to work on the retrospective and marketing it until then, and upload it all at the same time, and have the full marketing plan, the whole thing into effect at the same time, and then have some kind, of, well, I was going to say closure but that's not it as I want to get back to it also.

With all the notes, thinking, mind-maps, I'm going to be ready to write something new soon, I've discovered a lot of new things since I wrote that. I lost my way for a while, and you know why, but if I can get back on it, then I shall never let it happen again. I just want to write, that is who I am.

Perhaps having so much to do stops me thinking of the long-term plan. I know that I cannot live in this country. Sometimes, I hear the English speaking, or read their papers and I just feel sick and want to leave. I'm starting to think of places to go.

I can't face a winter here, not another one. There were some Canadians outside last night who said how bitter it is. I think I should only give myself so much time to sort things out, the criteria is to be studying and getting somewhere, in permanent accomodation I like that affords me enough time to write. If not, then go.

But I am alone. I'd have to go on my own money, and it's finite. With tickets and insurance, it would be, will be, might be if I don't get something sorted out, a years money. I would have to go, and either make it there, or have a definite plan of study to return to; I can't fall into the mundane. I must make my maps to get everything clear in my mind, but oh God, so many things to get done. The only reason I can sit here and type all this up is because there's no connection; if there was I'd be doing something to do with the work, and if I could get into the room without disturbing people, I'd get my art book and work on the mind maps.

I have tomorrow here. I have to pack and also decide what I'm going to be doing bag-wise, but it's pretty much a day here. The hostel is really comfortable, and I have over three and a half hours left at the computer in Finchley Road. I think if I take the maps and work on them a little, or even this evening, sleep is the problem; I make these plans sometimes but then just lie there awake and next day am wrecked. I will use my computer time going over the book again, look at the cd's and decide which picures I'm going to use, maybe do some covers if it will let me unpack the discs. Now I've found the O2 centre, I do like this area a bit more. Oh wow, the weather's been lovely. It rained just today. I watched the Korean game in the O2 pub, there were a few, quite a few Koreans, in there. It was a shame at the end. They had all been nicely clapping and singing but then the TV lost the bbc signal. Anyway, the rain started and as the sky greyed over, so did my mood.

Thursday I sign, so I don't know how much I'll get done. There's quite a bit away from the computer. I have to do a full wash also; the few clothes I have stink. Then Friday I'm up Belsize, but I want to have both bags out of storage back to A's because the hostels are going to get angry with me otherwise. Sat I'm back, then I'll need some time in Bayswater to finish the work on cybercafe day-tickets. It might even be better if it's raining because I can get more done.

I'm going to make a plan, on my art-pad, I mean like a business plan, no, a plan, you know what I mean. The way they make plans with timeframes in business, with steps and so on. Also, I need to go and chase up the accomodation prospects in Hammersmith, and get marketing contacts from the library and so so so so so much (I typed sos by mistake then (maybe sos would have been better)).

Pfffhhhhaaaaaa, I might as well type a bit more while I'm on here for free.

Concerning Mother's ashes. I'm irritated he already has a plan, a plan that involves her being in a field, and then he will never go there again. Brian wanted then scattered in the pub, she would have hated that because she hated the place.

A. said to him, on my behalf and without my consent, that I would be happy with just a matchbox with some in.

Thanks.

I should write to the undertaker and say there's a dispute and not to release without signature, or ask for their clarification. Maybe I should ask Mr. Scott. I will mention it the next time I see him. It might be around now. I will return that form tomorrow. Yes, this is for the best, I can make the post from here as I have a few job applications anyway.

I already decided what to do if I get some. I'll split it into thirds. I'll keep a third in a vile. A third in the courtyard in St. James Church, Picadilly, where I left our prayers, and a third in the flowerbeds by the children's park in Kennsington Gardens, definitely my favourite place in England (which isn't saying much) and the place where I very often go and think, both good and bad thoughts, and have some happy afternoons, happyish, lying on my back looking up through the leaves when it's sunny. I sip Perrier and make Vegemite rice-cakes. Not marmite because it's English and if I have any choice I never choose that.

It's 1:24 now, I've actually, for now, ran out of things to say! I'll go and get a slimfast bar and water and see if I can get sleepychops.

Date: Tuesday 20th June 2006

The Royal Bayswater Cafe, Bayswater Road, London W2.

Well, it's a week since I wrote in Palmers, and tomorrow I'm going back.

I'm trying to think what's happened. I went to Globetrotter on Thursday. Half the staff are new. I don't like getting to know people, I notice. I feel the same way about Princes where I'm staying tonight. I know their names, Allen the scroungin scottsman, Ian the sarcastic northerner who likes marijuana etc. As soon as people notice me, I want to go.

Well I signed on in the new place. I had my job search but she only asked me in a matter-of-fact way and didn't want to check my papers.

In the afternoon I watched England play Trinidad and Tongo, and was supporting the latter the whole way, of course. I hated it when England score. I found myself looking round the crowd, as I often do at very 'English' gatherings, and just hated the people. I'm never going to like it here.

Friday I had a night in Belsize. At Globetrotter (here we go) I was in the long-term room. There were pictures up on the wall of people who have been watching me come and go for a year, and so I ended up washing my clothes until early morning. I was so tired that I did get a few hours, then I came over to Bayswater, thinking that I could get another day in at the all-day computer with cd burner.

By the time I was at the Whiteleys centre, I was shattered, and so I went over, checked in and slept. I woke about nine and went out for a bit, then... what did I do? I think I tried to sleep and got about an hour.

Then I left. I woke up early and tried to use the computer but it stole my pound, which happens every time I try to use the computer there.

I got back really early, about midday. A was just leaving to the hairdresser. I went to the bedroom and just lie for a while, then went back downtown. I took the package from Spain, The Curse and Miracle of Expectation, but didn't know what it would be like. I opened it in Edwards. It looks DAMN FINE. As I looked at it, the song 'Walking on Sunshine' played. There was also a sense of anti-climax. When I showed it to A in the evening, she said, 'Your mother would have loved to have seen that.'

I came back and went in the backway. I passed a male and female figure in the back alley. I had an odd feeling. When I went in, she said I'd just missed g, and I was irritated she hadn't phoned.

I watched Italy V. USA, and ended up rooting for the latter, though it was a draw.

I left early the next day and had a night in Picadilly Backpackers, the place I stayed when I first returned to London. The same woman checked me in, and made some joke about having come 'on my bike', because I was wearing a coat when it was hot. Actually, I've been wearing just a tee-shirt recently, it's so hot and I've lost weight. I weighed myself as 83 kilos at A's, and I was 95 three weeks after starting the diet on March 20, so I lost at least 12 kilos.

Monday I came to Bayswater and worked, and checked in. I am sick of that place now, though the price is right.

Did I mention that I wanted to make a disc of all the, no I mean a picture book. It shall contain the pictures of my past that I can get hold of, and be based around the mistakes I've made in life. It sounds rubbish, but I can visualise it and it's not too bad. I went through some of, OK all the pictures I have with me of Junko, there's a load missing. I don't know if they didn't copy or if I bought the wrong discs. It means I have to go back and get them, but if I can just concentrate on finishing the books I'm trying to complete here, it should be OK I suppose. I can make a start I think. I can make each one an email, say do 100 and that should be a little 150 page book, square format, free download perhaps? It'll be so good finishing these projects after having had so much to do... the thing is that I don't have anything to do after; I'll have to make a long-term decision.

I'm only thinking of this while the world cup is going, I should be about ready then, I mean, to upload everything and send out all the marketing on the full moon afterwards; this is the plan anyway. I don't know. I must find a printer.

I shouldn't have looked at the Junko pictures. Usually they're all in a box and hidden on web pages. I looked and it was like yesterday and I had one of my... well, not 'turns', but it wasn't very nice whatever it was.

I think this retrospective work is basically putting me off dealing with my situation. The actual situation, of being basically homeless, jobless, friendless and no one backing me, with a finite amount of funds. I know I have to make a move and decision, but I don't know. I want the satisfaction of having wrapped up the previous work.

Wednesday 5th July 2006

Rotana Internet Cafe, Bayswater, about 11:20pm.

Dream

I was with A and found out that G. was dying because he had secretly drank for a long time.

Interpretation

I woke up and passed a load of undigested food. I could say is that G or me, but I kept thinking that about all the premenitons of M.

Don't know what to think.

Sunday 9th July 2006

High Street, Golders Green, London NW11.

Dream

I signed on for unemployment benefit and then used the computer in the job centre. An official came up to me not so happy, and asked if I was allowed to use it there.

Then I was walking around Earl's Court looking for something, possibly and internet cafe.

Interpretation

I have to sign on next thursday and get a hard time, so this is basically worry, because I spend my time working on my own stuff rather than looking for a job as I'm supposed to.

Other dreams in slight retrospective (following Monday in Bayswater)

Dream

I was in Japan with Junko. She had married someone Japanese, but I was still allowed to be there, but he came first. I was OK with it and glad to be there.

Interpretation

I think I really see her like this, with the dreams and OBE's, and am happy.

Dream

I had to go into hospital and the staff asked me when I had last washed.

Interpretation

Been in hostels without water for over a week; it was becoming a concern.

Dream 24/6/6 -- May have already written it somewhere

I was with Junko, I think it was Europe. She was moving about a lot but it was kind of agreed that we wound meet like this periodically. There was a strange realness to this kind of informal party in the day we were at. It was... real, a real agreement.

Then I was unpacking a book, my book, from Lulu. Don't know exactly what went on, but I know it was significant.

Interpretation

As above

Monday 10th July 2006

Royal Bayswater Hotel, Bayswater Road, London W2

Another diary reterospective; everything's gone by the wayside while I concentrate on getting the work out; I don't know why really.

I'll do my best to recall what happened... last entry proper, the 20th.

Two days later I remember being in Hammersmith, William Morris for the England Equador match. Horribe. Really loud and arrogant and I hated England, but I always hate it and them, so no change. That was actually 20th according to my little black book.

Then I was in Belsize Park when Japan lost to Brazil. This is according to my diary, though I don't recall it. I also noted that I went home and Pulp Fiction was playing on the TV; the French had all the lights out. I always note that film because I watched it alone after I came back from Sydney but hadn't seen Junko yet.

Wait, I saw the Equador game on the 25th, so I was there then.

I was still in Belsize on 26th, and went to Walkabout to see Australia lose to Italy, awful, really disappointed for them. Exciting game, they know how to support teams and it all seemed very unfair.

I signed on the 29th. I couldn't get into Globe for a reasonable price, so came down from the North. I had my 'jobseekers agreement', which states I must bring written evidence of my jobsearch. I always follow this, even though I'm never asked for it. I had copies of all my emails gone out, proof of postage from the post office for hard applications and had filled in the job search booklet. I also had printed the jobs from the job centre website I'd applied for.

The woman now assigned to me asked me where my prints were. I showed them and she didn't even look. She said, where are the prints from the job search machine. I said it's the same jobs as the job centre website and I've printed them.

No. She said I must follow the job search agreement, and produced a copy of what I was already following. She tapped her finger at the part that says bring written evidence.

So I read it out and said yes, I have here.

Nope. She said, you have to print out two jobs you will apply for 'Just like everyone else'.

OK. So instead of apply for four jobs and bring written evidence, you want me to bring two print outs of jobs I might apply for or would...

Of course I would have said that but she just cut me off and kept implying that I was trying to think I was above everyone else. It's pointless to argue, so I just said fine. So this fortnight I've done nothing and will print out two jobs next Thursday, show her the slips and put them in the bin. Great. I can't do emoticons here, but if I could, I'd put in the one that looks exasperated, then elipse, then the cheeky one that grins, even though it got to me at the time.

I spend a lot of time sitting out, thinking and feeling lost. Especially at night now. The hostels are expensive so I stay in ones that don't have a kitchen and aren't nice to go home to. I feel lost and poor sometimes.

There are some benches on the way to the hostel in Belsize. I sit there with tea, and open up cans and eat from them. I was thinking ahead. I wonder sometimes where I could sleep if I had nothing.

I felt suddenly resolute. I write. I'll put it out and eat from the money. If there's no money, I'll die as a writer; I've been saying that for ages. I'm still on the diet. 81kg not, so fourteen kilos down. I notice I have wrinkles and stretchmarks over my stomach, though there's still fat and untoned muscles. Of course, as long as I stay on this, then there's a timeframe. I felt sudden, complete resolution; I shall write and succeed or starve. I'll do nothing else, and I can face starvation. I do what I do and I won't let anything sidetrack me again.

As I thought this, an old Irish guy came up and asked if I was OK. I said yes and he left, but he called back to ask if I wanted any money. I said I was OK.

I checked in Belsize but was in another building. On the way over there, I found a five pound note on the floor (honestly) and I felt it was a good sign. I am a writer.

I was still in Belsize when England lost to Portugal. YYYYEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!!!. Oh, the English; they love to take the p*** when they're up, but when it's against them, everyone has to be serious. I watched them all file out, then complain about the cheating.

Yes, yes dear. They're not just a rubbish team, it was all cheating by coluding foreigners. OK, off to your tea and elevensies (insert devil smiley).

I was here in Royal Bayswater on Thursday last. I had Internet time, but spent it looking at the job sites and booking hotels. I met this guy from North. He was next to me and kept asking about how you sleep out, where best. He was in London doing, or just done, an IT masters, though he came accross as dense, and somehow self-contained. I went downstairs to eat and we chatted. He asked if I was OK or just tired, meaning I look ill.

I had a night in London HOuse I recall now, the preceeding Sunday. It was OK. There was a drunk northern woman outside who kept telling people I was sick, then decided she didn't like my braces and we ended up grappling and the doorstaff had to come and pull her off.

Oh. I was in Kennsington Gardens a few days later. The police ran a little boy over. Not nice. Why do the police drive cars around a park? It's not right. If they're concerned about the public, they can do a walkabout, not driveby.

I had a couple of days over in Olave. It's as rubbish as usual. I got complaints about my snoring. I did try to walk to Bayswater but got lost and ended up bussing via Hammersmith. But I walked back one night. I got the directions from www.tfl.gov.uk. It had me going through all these backstreets and little alleys. It obviously gives you the shortest route rather than the one that makes you feel most safe. But it was a warm night and I actually enjoyed it. I'm noticing the difference my weight has on my hip now. At night, often I can't feel anything. I still have bad times, like the time I went from Swiss Cottage to Golders Green just to see if I could, then spent the next day barely able to walk.

But to not be in pain at night is a rare and welcome thing, even if it's not every night.

I went back last Saturday, to A's. It wasn't so great, but at least the box is there. I watched TV and couldn't sleep, then left early in the morning.

Sunday I was back at Palmers. It was absolute paradise and I was so happy. Perhaps because of the hard places I'd been staying at. I could only get one night for twelve, but I did all my laundry. It's really popular with Asians. I watched the world cup final. Straight to bed and just slept.

Then I came here. I lost a file at the computer. Tomorrow is the full moon, so I'll be putting up whatever work is complete.

Stuff keeps coming back to me. I went to the cinema Friday and saw some of Brokeback mountain, but left before the end, as I almost always do nowadays.

Later: 12:30am Next Day

I just went downstairs and cooked, now I have my bit of time left.

I booked for two nights in depressing Torquay. Thursday I sign but I have nothing. I could do 639, which is still a tenner, the cheapest place in London that I know of. I could perhaps leave London for a bit. I just, feel sick and tired I suppose. I could go, but I'd take myself with me.

I think, it might be the case that I'll never have another conversation again. I spend all my time avoiding people; I don't want to talk about nothing. I'm too different to talk about me. I knew I would miss meeting M. weekly, and I guess I knew it would be this much; I just didn't think ahead to what I would do about it. It's going to wear me down. This is going to be the thing. There's never going to be the incentive to stop the diet. I have all sorts of ideas about the writing and the website and can make some kind of headway perhaps, but basically, even when things go a bit well, it just isn't fun. Like finally unwrapping my Curse and Miracle book. When I was seventeen I had a special bottle of drink on the shelf waiting to pop the cork the day that moment came, Singapore sling. As it turned out I did the seven month magic and popped it when I was definitely leaving UK. Now, finally, I have the book, and so what; it's just so much work and so much more to fail at and so much more that won't pay a rent and feed me, and so I keep getting slimmer, and if this is going to be the case, I might as well get out and go somewhere where at least I'll have a happy day at somepoint, even if there is a time-stamp on the whole thing.

Perhaps I'll feel better tomorrow when the book is up. I finish it the second time, and again just at the world cup finishes, and it should go up about two. I can replace the file I lost. To get full benefit from the full moon, I'll try and make one symbolic advertising poster and leave it somewhere in Kennsington Gardens just so I did it, and I guess move my .co.uk to the sales page and put up something on the new homepage. Let me make a list of tomorrow's work (does that need a possessive apostrophe?) (Where should my brackets and punctuation go (that's how I've been thinking for over a month now (this is definitley wrong ((.)!

After tomorrow, I can chase up accomodation leads for something permanent, perhaps Thursday; I must check my mail there also. Tomorrow I should...

• Make the Curse and Miracle back cover.
• Finish the new Curse and Miracle afterward.
• Finish the Curse and Miracle text.
• Upload the Curse and Miracle and make it live.
• Make the Happiness Hike live.
• Finish the front and back demo cd cover.
• Make the demo.
• Make the demo live.
• Link the www to the sales page.
• Change the sales page.
• Make a flyer.
• Put the flyer in Kennsington Gardens symbolically.
• Put some of the magic into the round pond symbolically.
• Write the new page English.
• Table the new page.
• Graphics for the new page, though this really is pushing it.
• Decide what to do after Thursday.

You know what I spend all my time thinking about don't you, ... or who rather. I really have to stop. I do my nlp excercises and am objective about it, I know I'm insane and it's one sided and based on illness. I just can't help myself.

Maybe they'll be a few gloriously sunny days soon. Maybe I can go somewhere. Perhaps I spent too long on the books and website, and if I was working on other parts of the plan also. Magic went by the wayside, I don't do it, nor meditate. I might feel better if I was doing that again.

My time is running out. I must return to my sixteen bed and full room.

Later 5:10pm, Bayswater.

Thursday 20th July 2006

Royal Bayswater Hotel, Bayswater; 2:10am.

I'm refering to the little black book again to update.

Yes, I did get the book up that day. I realised that the back cover doesn't make sense and I need to put extra commas in. Also, I can't get the covers on the usb. Anyway, it's up, and www.followyourstar.co.uk isn't finished, but it's functional and it's live.

A little marketing. Poster designed. Print runs are really expensive, then I had the idea of using Gimp to design colour stuff and using the photo processor. I went to Mysteries in Covent Garden and they have a free board, plus Nexus magazine does advertising for 40p a word, and I can sort out the stickers, though they take a week to arrive.

So the day after the full moon... I went to Torquay House for the night; as horrible as ever but I lived.

After that, London was full. I spent a whole day looking and all I could get was Lee Valley YHA. So I booked it and went up.

OH MY GOD, it was nice. I worked in Bayswater all day, then went over to Liverpool Street. The ticket was the right price. A train took about forty minutes and I got out in the middle of nowhere and was lost, but a taxi booker told me where to go.

The woman checking me in was really friendly, and the place was AMAZING. It was still a little cold then. There were about six little houses, well, quite big houses, made of wood, all set in a semi-circle. Each one had a balcony at the front, picnic tables outside, a self-contained snack kitchen. God, it was lovely. The snack kitchen was basically a normal kitchen, with dining table, sofa, chairs. It was great.

I went up and met a father and sun from Norway. They were on the last day of a cycling holiday and told me all about their travels in Ireland.

Next day there were gone when I awoke and I had the place to myself.

There was free tea and coffee so I had that, then an ice cold coke, then walked into the village or whatever. I looked around the shops and it was nice. There was a Sainsburys, so I got food, then I came home. I spent the day lying on my side, then washing myself, then cleaning out my bag, then making work plans, so much easier with my head clear and some space.

An Indian group turned up and set up a Sai baba shrine, which was nice, and he is the guru that Junko mentioned once, and whom mother gave me some holy ash from.

The day I checked out I was cleaning my teeth and suddenly started coughing blood all over the place. I had the presence of mind to take a picture.

I came back Saturday and had a day in Bayswater, then went up to the only place in London that was free, Parkside Hotel in Clapham Common. I had to go through the park, then this very curt man checked me in. It was so run down. There was a friendly guy in the room but I ate in the twilight downstairs. The place had real potential, but was so dim.

I think I went to Bayswater and worked, then had that night in Palmers. It was lovely. Next day I put a bag in Belsize house and ended up going over to Picadilly, a nice change but I didn't get so much done. I got back to Belsize really late and an Irish guy didn't know I was coming, but checked me in anyway.

Next day it turned out they'd taken my booking when the system was down, but it was all OK. I went over to Palmers and put my bag in storage, then stayed in Swiss Cottage all day. I bought a five hour ticket, but again couldn't get much done. I went home at night and slept LOVELY.

Today I checked out and came to Bayswater. I checked in and worked all day. I did get a black and white ad for expectation sorted out, but then kind of lost track. I'm not sure why. I don't know what the issue is.

I'm thinking of making two versions of the CD now, a CD and a DVD, that would mean that I can at least get one done and uploaded before I leave. Today I was determined to leave this place; I've had enough.

Tomorrow, I have a night in 63, formally Princes, so I'll stay here until I'm about to collapse and just sleep there to avoid the people there. Then I have a night in a place I passed for years but always thought looked awful, but there was no choice and the price was right. Then I go to A's for a night, and shall use it to finalise the final ebay sale, then I'm back here in Royal Bayswater... then THREE NIGHTS IN EPPING FORREST.

Then sign on. But I'm not stopping. I'm going to try and book even further ahead, get down to the coast maybe, go on the Expectation Tour, putting up posters and giving out leaflets. I have to break out of this, and at least get the data online. I can do it here if I push, hard, before I leave, then I can spend my 'holiday' planning and doing mind maps.

There's other stuff, but I can't go into it. I should go and sleep at least a little, then make plans for work tomorrow, again before I work, then have two hours before checking into Princes and shaving. I think there's a dream to update also. Oh, I came here on the bus this morning and stopped in Picadilly. I lit a candle in St. James and started crying as they played the piano, and again had the presence of mind to picture it. Lucky that I'm quite obviously insane or I'd start to get self-conscious at this point.

Thankfully I'm tired. There's a heatwave. The room is full. I just saw a huge cockroach. I hope I can sleep. Dear diary, think of me.

Saturday 22nd July 2006

Royal Bayswater Hotel, London W2.

I spent yesterday labeling photos of Junko for a public cd I'm making. It was depressing, I spent the day depressed of all the things A. threw away while I was on the road dreaming of doing what I'm doing now, thinking it would all be there, safe and sound.

Then last night I had a yearning dream of her. I'll write it up later when I do the computer catch up thing later.

I'm still pushing for accomodation. I got as far as Epping Forrest. Now, I've done a bit more. I'm back Thursday to sign, hopefully no surprises there. Thursday I stay at Palmers, Saturday, here in Bayswater at Smart, where I'm staying tonight actually. So Friday night I have no accomodation. The plan is hope something becomes available... and if not I'll have a lot less stuff with me, so sleep out. Yes, I've fell that low, I've come within an inch of it anyway, but you never know

It's only three pound to Brighton. I was trying to Cornwall, but there's three days free in Brighton, at the St. Christophers, so I'm going there, then I have a one pound fifty ticket back, so I have some more options now.

Today I spent sad, about the same thing I guess... and wondering about all the blood and wondering how long I have. Then I went over to Hammersmith and finally got my bag and winter coat out. Emma was miserable and obviously not happy it had been there so long. I think when I sign next, I'll tell them the truth, that I don't have access to that property and have to keep moving.

At least there's a break coming. The rough plan is to spend this time away, in different places, thinking of the situation, working on new parts of the website, which may make cash eventually. Marketing the book. Making all the calls I can about accomodation and training, so at least I think, or can feel, that I'm getting somewhere.

Tomorrow, if I can get out, then I'll have to go to the storage place in Northampton, at least if I can walk, I've done a bit too much today. It's so hot also, but nice.

I'll stay out as late as poss, then go back after taking notes from the books I want to sell. I'll photograph all that's going on ebay, measure the stuff I want to put in storage, and label the negs with priority numbers. That way, when I do my Great Expectation Tour of London, I can go and look for a cheap case or box that will fit. Now I have all my stuff out of Hammersmith I can start to think of making a move.

It was odd leaving Hammersmith. I really tried to belong there. To have a place. Look around. Maybe it will all turn out for the best.

I miss having conversations. Yes. Very sad alone sometimes.

Thursday 27th July 2006

Palmers Lodge, College Cresent, Swiss Cottage, London. 7:40pm.

So, the last Thursday night I went to Smart in Inverness Terrace, Bayswater; it was no where near as bad as I imagined. I left early the next day and there was no problem. I've avoided that place for years; mainly because they don't include tax in their prices: big mistake, on their part I mean.

Anyway, I got up and went over to Victoria on the bus, and this worked out OK. By the coach there was a South African who had bought a ticket but not recieved his confirmation email, and national express didn't answer the phone, I know the last problem myself well. Anyway... we got on.

I got in and A. was out, so I lie down for a bit; I was so tired. I heard her come in and drop something. Then I went downtown. I can't remember what I did, I do recall I was going to the storage place, but the heavens opened up and so I went round town instead. I was in quite a bit of pain, so didn't do much.

I got back and A said that she hadn't dropped something, but had fell. I sat at the table, and straight away she started on about how sick I looked, so I just got straight up and walked out; I just don't have to put up with that kind of selfishness. Of course I look sick for f**** sake.

I left the next day and came back to Bayswater. I typed a bit, went to the park and basically enjoyed being back, in a way.

Next day I did two hours at the computer and realised that my earlier zipped work on cd was corrupt, and so I couldn't finish what I wanted. I did print out all my travel itinery.

When it was time to go I went to Queensway and asked the black lady how to get there. I remember her as really friendly years ago and she's still there. I had to go right to the end of the Central Line to Laughton. When I got there I asked the staff about the Youth Hostel, and they said it was miles away and uphill and there was no bus and that they wouldn't go up at night and basically I was insane to have booked such a place.

Well it was tough, so I started walking the direction they said. I went past these residential houses until the road did indeed go uphil and enter a forest. I kept going until I got as far as a pub called Robin Hood, which is strange considering that this is a different forrest. I thought about going in but I saw Thai food advertised, and for some reason that put me off. I sat outside and phoned the hostel. I got directions to go straight over the roundabout, when the road forks take the left and go round the church.

I walked, but then the road turned left and I wasn't sure if that was the turning. I asked some people on bikes but no one knew, so I rested, then kept walking. I did come to a church and walked round it, into a dead end. I guessed left, and ended up seeing a sign. Then I was there.

A guy of about fifty five checked me in. He explained the rules, and that it wasn't a party hostel. He wanted every one in at ten thirty, and in bed at eleven. There were no partys as 'it's not that kind of hostel'.

I went to my room and there was a man of about sixty lying there. I put my stuff down and that was the first day basically. There were a couple of families with children, telling them off all the time.

Next day I went into Loughton. I went to a pub called Hollybush, but the staff looked at me cruely and the guests also so I left. I lie under a tree. There was nothing there.

I got back and the Scottish man started talking to me about a book he was reading, someone had left it there. It was a travelogue about a guy who traveled and got polio, then traveled on anyway but became bitter.

I couldn't get a word in. When I finally managed to get out, he kept talking as I closed the door.

That night, he came out onto the porch and talked, even past midnight so that people started slamming doors and windows. The German woman was travelling with her daughter who was an actress; they were really nice and laughed when they told me how the Daughter falls asleep in the passenger seat and people stare in panic because it's a left hand drive car.

I don't remember which night, but one of the familys came in late and the door was locked. I heard them bang it and ask to be let in. At the same time, the Scottish man in my room dropped something off the windowsill but shouted that he was OK. He thought that they were banging his door asking to be let in, so he started shouting saying that he wouldn't open it. They didn't understand, thinking he was refusing to open the front door, so I listened to this insane arguement.

The Scottish guy left, and a young French man turned up from Lyon. He is an electrical student here to improve his English. Really nice. We chatted. I clued him up about hostels and the job centre. A woman came and checked in with a tent and I spent a long time imagining living in a tent.

Here today I signed. The woman had a go at me because I have nowhere to live. I had the print outs she asked of last time, but now I'm wrong because I don't have an address. I didn't allow her to ruin my day.

Same day as always.

Then I came to Palmers and here I am.

Friday 28th July 2006 8:45pm

Finchley Road

Dream -- of the 10th of this month... not sure if I included it before.

CANCELLED... DIDN'T GET AROUND TO TYPING IT.

Friday 4th August 2006 03:50am

Palmer's Lodge, College Crescent, Swiss Cottage.

Wow, exactly a week since I was here... now I have to try and remember what happened.

Bad, bad day today, I just can't can't sleep. I mean, I've been off a few times but not really, and it's been going on days now. No, months and months. Maybe a year. You really notice it when you live with people in a room. It's a combination of ruined bladder, pain and stress. I'm sick of it, literally.

I think Saturday I was in Smart, Bayswater, and this was uneventful other than realising that it has rats, though it's no big deal as RB has cockroaches, and full grown ones I mean.

Saturday I took the bus down to Victoria and went down to Brighton. Uneventful. We arrived and the hostel was just opposite. I hadn't slept of course. I went to bed but couldn't sleep of course. It all seemed OK. An Aussie turned up and started talking to this American woman. They were having a nice travellers' chat, then a South African turned up and dominated the conversation talking about banking. His girlfriend kept looking over at the silent creepy me in the corner and I wanted to be white, in a way.

The hostel had no common facilities at all. I ended up eating my usual tins of food on Brighton pier. Very cold and not so nice, it made me think of the hours and hours and hours I was hanging around Billing waiting for M to finish work or wasting and hating the whole of my holidays there.

I don't recall when; I think it was the second night. I had my tins on the pier, then was walking home. Some Arab men started trying to talk to me. I couldn't understand and so walked off. As I crossed the road some revellers dropped a woman on the railings and she was hurt and it distracted me. I walked away. One the the Arabs came up and kicked me. It was so out of place that my mind went blank as he ran away. I checked and my credit cards and wallet were in place. I thought to check for my phone about an hour later, and of course it was gone.

Next day I went to the police station and the woman just asked the make and gave me a card with a crime number on; very jaded. I wrote the actual events in a letter and sent it to them to file.

In the evening the bar stayed open for residents only, so I used to sit there with nothing. On the last night I met a psychiatric nurse from Nottingham. We chatted. She had come down to see a friend in London and they were having a break. I told her I didn't like UK and was thinking of leaving. She really liked the lights on the pier, so I teased her how easily pleased she was.

It was a dead loss really. Every day is now. There was a Trailfinders there and I checked out the price of tickets, that's how I'm starting to think now. I used to sit in the street with a tea from Macdonalds, the bus stop was my usual haunt. I was thinking about it today actually; I've always been doing this: filling the hours until I have to go home. Staying away from the places I live because I'm not at home there. I think I have to accept that it will always be like this.

I came back straight to Palmers and it was so routine. As soon as I walked in they started doing the paperwork. I went straight down and ate my tins, straight to bed and actually slept a little.

Today was horrible. Well, all days are, today more than most. I went to the computer repeatedly but nothing worked. I couldn't bring myself to do things I probably could have managed. I found a song previously, Bend and Break by Keane. I often picked out the tune in bhs when I was there with M. but never knew what the song was, and it was strange to listen to it again.

That's basically all that happened for this rubbish week. Having a good look at the trail finders brochure got me thinking of leaving. I know that I won't like it, deep down. I know I can't stay in England much longer, but I'm not particularly interested in going anywhere, for the first time ever. To cap it all, I have a cold and am sneezing everywhere. The lethargy would be nice if I could sleep; the days are nearly intolerable. I found myself walking up and down the supermarket aisle today not remembering walking and and not recalling why I was pushing the trolley around or what I was looking for. It was like the famous zombie film where they all go to the mall because of habit, except the zombie woke up for a while.

As far as I can see, there are only four directions to go in, or four things to pursue. One, look around for destinations in the UK and Europe while it's warm, for camping or very cheap options, with the former, probably end up living like a wildman, though inside a tent might be pretty depressing. I'm looking into it.

Look around very cheap Asian destinations.

Work out how exams go, when I could apply and what I would need to take with me to study.

Write. This ties in with the last one as I'm thinking of turning my study into a guide; I can't expain it here, but it makes sense.

Plus I can try and pick up publishing gigs via the net and my new website... even though I haven't sold a single book. Two people came asking via the Happiness Hike, one had read the old samples of Life Magic, and this is the first time I've ever been asked about it.

Does't look great does it? I'm just so different to everyone else. I spend all my time feeling so alone, and the few times I'm not alone, I'm scrambling to get away from the aliens that surround me, and I really can't think of a way out.

I might not actually replace the phone, that was another thing I was thinking. No one phones me except A, and that won't be forever. I may as well get used to it.

I have two nights in Belsize tomorrow. Sunday nothing, but that day's not hard to book, if I can stay awake when I need to and sleep when I need to; something I can't actually do at all, like this damned awful, long dark eventless frustrating night. If I could go to sleep now, I'd get about three hours, but I know I'll lie there for twenty minutes and be up. How did this come about? What shall I do all day? What is going on, or not going on? What is wrong with me?

Palmer's Lodge, North London.

I'm in about the same place at about the same time as when I last wrote. Nothing much. I went over to Belsize. They were overbooked, so I ended up getting a single room for no extra charge. There's a French guy there who can't take his drink and spoils the atmosphere. It's OK there.

I phoned around some new age shops on Friday to find places willing to put up the poster for me, the expectation one I'm talking about. I don't know what else to write. I'm really sick. I mean, physically a little, not really. You know how I am, the way I always am.

Today (yesterday) was Sunday, so I went to put my bag in storage here as I managed to get as far as Wednesday here. Then I went to Whetherspoons to catch up on paperwork. I wrote letters to some shop owners. At the Internet, a guy from the states with the same disease had contacted me, so we had a chat, or exchanged emails. The last conversation I had was when A. phoned me before the phone was stolen. I don't think I'll replace it... and it's strange to think that it could be my last conversation.

But even when I had the phone, it didn't make any difference. The last conversation I had was with M. I guess. I've had few in my life. I think I should just accept it.

I don't think I mentioned it, I'm thinking of going camping in Lee Valley. If I can find somewhere for a fortnight it would cost about the same after the expense of the gear. I only need a tent, airbed, sleeping bag and seat. If I do that and it's OK, then I can perhaps leave to somewhere remote for the winter. Somewhere far away, warmer.

Note: Following retrospective; written in Epping Forest.

ALL THE THINGS I HATE

I Hate:

I hate my rubbish whitewarz cup and lunchbox that just leaked and ruined all my new stationary and my other whitewarz stuff that ruined all my previous stationary

I hate this rubbish biro.

I hate my rubbish mind for making rubbish thoughts so my rubbish self never has a happy day.

I hate rubbish, dumb kids in England who only go to rubbish schools that teach them rubbish things.

I hate rubbish dried peas that have no advantage over tinned peas.

I hate rubbish pheasants rubbish bassy call that makes me think of rubbish England.

I hate by rubbish bag from the rubbish supermarket that I carry from hostel to hostel everyday for my rubbish homeless life.

I hate rubbish picnic tables without backs.

I hate rubbish sleeping sheets that haven't been dried properly and make me ache all day.

I hate my rubbish yoga nidra book and tantra meditation from India for being so heavy.

I hate my library book for being boring.

I hate this rubbish day and the rubbish sun behind the rubbish clouds.

I hate my rubbish mental pictures with rubbish imaginings that make me feel rubbish.

I hate rubbish damp.

I hate rubbish night and not being able to sleep.

I hate writing rubbish things that no one wants to read.

I hate my rubbish memories for remind me of good times... a good time, and comparing it with all of the rubbish times that went before and after in and all the rubbish days in my rubbish life.

I hate the word rubbish for not having a better sound to it.

I hate the rubbish woman I sign on with to get unemployment.

I hate the rubbish Scottishman I met who talked too much and didn't even notice nor stop when I WALKED AWAY AND never came back.

I hate my rubbish plans and rubbish thoughts of what I could do.

I hate rubbish magic that never comes true.

I hate the rubbish TB of meaningless trivia gushing forth from a culture that I don't belong to and despise.

I hate my rubbish hair for growing every day and forcing me to shave it.

I hate rubbish London and all the rubbish people who live there.

I hate my Aunt for throwing everything I care about away and never thinking how I feel.

I hate rubbish boxy English houses with little windows and rubbish gardens with rubbish flowers.

I hate wasps for buzzing near my ear and scaring me.

I hate cars for going too fast.

I hate my flip-flops for wearing out.

I hate my trousers for being too lose.

I hate my skin for tanning different colours.

I hate gravestones for making dead people last for so long.

I hate gorses for being so subservient and not kicking people who whip them.

I hate fish for not showing emotions.

I hate the moment for not shouting 'abandon hope' to the woman who just walked past.

15-08-06 Palmers Lodge, London, 5.55am.

Just typed for an hour and lost it when pressed the wrong key. Really good retrospective and got well into the English. F***.

Thursday 17th August 2006

Palmers, Swiss cottage, London. About 5:00am

Well I wrote all this up last week... well, the other day, then lost it. So I'm doing it from memory.

Last Thurday I was here, in Palmers. On the Friday I went to Prince Charles Cinema. I saw a rubbish comedy and my bladder wasn't good so I missed the first, or just saw a little of it. Then I saw 'Pretty Persuasion', which was much better, though still not great.

I went to the train station, then went up to Lee Valley. Believe this or not, but the guy who checked me in was the same one from Hampstead from the time I complained about the overcharging. He didn't remember me.

I was in a different place this time. There was an odd guy who kept coming and going. Another older guy who said hello. There was a guy my age who said hello and said that he'd just moved to Shepards' Bush from Manchester and had just come for a break.

Next day I went into town and worked in the Whetherspoon pub, which I had missed somehow. I came back and three teachers had checked in. They were all middle class and tweedy twaty and yar yar.

I stayed up until five am. and went to bed as the teachers were getting up. They were putting Kung Fu suits on. The older man turned out to be a walker and said that I'd come in at five but it was better than listening to me snoring. They all agreed that it had kept them awake, as well as the Shepards' Bush man. They didn't say it to my face but had assumed I was asleep.

Later in the day they thought I was sleeping and complained about the smell, I assume from my shopping which I took up and had forgot to put in the fridge.

The walker came in some time later and complained about the smell in a mutter to himself. He also said, 'Thing from OuterSpace', which must be me as I was the only person in the room.

The guy from Shepards' Bush tried to make more conversation as he checked out, but I'm just too weird for everyone and he gave up.

Overall, it wasn't a great time up there (does that come accross?), but it was nice to find the Whetherspoon, plus I finished, or did a lot, of notetaking, and had brought some good books from Charing Cross library in Soho, which I'd managed to overlook all this time somehow.

I came straight back to Palmers, and did do a fair bit of work. Now, ask me what that was, or what I have to show for it, and I'd be hard pressed to say. I just know that I've got my head down, put my ass in front of the computer and basically cleared away a lot of jobs that have been hanging over me for some time.

I'm pretty much ready to put the cd online. I spent today labeling all the J pictures, Junko I mean, and of course I slipped into a dream. All day, more than most days, did this mental illness come back and haunt me.

Friday I'm back, that's tomorrow, at A's for one night. Sunday I'm in Notting Hill, which is different. Sunday Bayswater, which is when I shall upload the Life Magic work, which should mean that it's all pretty much done. Despite all the marketing, I haven't sold a single copy. I have six posters left, and a list of addresses to visit; I guess I'll do that next week.

With all my magical notetaking and mind map additions, I have a vague new magical direction and something new to be writing.

Still as directionless as usual, but I think I have the idea of at least starting to sniff out destinations, and ideas, and start making shippy or busty decisions. I, for one, must make an inventory of what's in the case at A's and visit the long-term storage place.

Sunday 20th August 2006

Royal Bayswater Hotel; 01:35am.

Yeah, out here as the bag lady again. I'm in Bowden Court tonight, in Notting Hill. I checked in earlier, and my bed is pushed next to someone elses like a double, and I can tell from the things in the room that it's a long-termer room. It's only for tonight. Tomorrow, I have a night in London House, which is OK and at least I can 'cook'. Then two nights here in Royal Bayswater, also not as bad as at least the rooms are OK and the common area I suppose. Then Wednesday night in Picadilly... or is that tuesday? Anyway, good to be there on the night of the new moon. Then two nights in Belsize, where at least the area is OK and I can go to Whetherspoon. Saturday I'm in Adamotel, which was 'London's only gay hostel', when it first came online. They took that bit out, but they still have one of the pictures with a pornagraphic (gay) magazine on the bed. Very unusual time I'm having.

OK, I think I wrote in Thursday? Well, I felt so bad about the snoring at the YHA (and probably every other place I stay in) I started sleeping in the day. Thursay (I think) I came back about one in the afternoon and there were some Germans playing football in the dorm). I managed to sleep and got up about midnight. The black guy was on. They seemed to have some problem with a female guest who was asking for a refund of the booking fee. I started to feel bad there because after two am it's just me creeping round with the black guy on the reception and he tries to speak and I'm just this weird thing that's always there.

There are two good things that happened. One I'll come to. The other, I think it was Thursday. I bought an MP3 player based on not much more than impulse as it was just 9.99. I had no idea what I could do with it.

I LOVE IT.

I downloaded some songs and a free ebook, Ten Days in a Madhouse. I stayed up all night, then left at seven, got the bus up and listened to this book. I was shattered, but it was very interesting. I also had two Buddhist podcasts. I listened to them on the way back. Anyway, for 9.99 I got the player, a battery, a high-speed connection lead and it comes with a microphone. It's really exciting as I can put my own podcasts online and make an online cd of them.

I got back to Northampton about midday. I walked in and A just said straight away that I look pale and that I'm dying, so I went straight upstairs and collapsed. I mean, I was OK but just tired. It's horrible to wait for the latest insult each time I go back. I slept until about six pm.

I was up at six pm so I went right down to the new Morrisons for a change, and bought vegetarian meat which I ended up burning. I sat with A for a bit. She complained about G; apparently he's got serious drink problem and drinks throughout the day, so that must run in the family. Well, there's lots more to write, but my credits nearly out. I'll be on tomorrow. Bye.

OOOHHHH. OOOHHHHH.... (sorry, the exclamation mark doesn't work on this computer) OOOOOHHHH. The other good news.

Sold a book. Yep. Logged in earlier, someone bought one. The print version. Woooaaahhhh.