Day 554: Fast...

It didn't take long for me to break my fast today... but I've held off posting about it, because fabulous Fiona Sweny is fasting too (or is actually fasting). Not that she'd be swayed - she has mettle, that woman! More for my own sake, then. Did yoga, though, thanks to Fiona and Swami Sivadasananda.

I decided that the headache that was raging wasn't helping my Tax Return. I've eaten mostly just fruit, though I did sully myself with cheese not long ago, in the hope of massive dreams. And the headache's still there.

I'm quite pleased, in a way. Not about the headache - I wish that would fuck off - but about the fact that I've had no caffeine or fresh milk. That's a good thing. If I'd set out to do that today, I'd probably have had a cappuccino. But I haven't, and I have the detox brainmash to prove it. I'm going to lie down now, and rage on my pillow. Night.

Day 533: LOLWUT WTF?

Fuck. How does it get so late?

A quick thank you rattle, then, like a tiny train. 

That cat's languorousness. Its sloth. Less so its attacky tendencies, but it's all part of the same cat. Gangster cat. Godfather cat. Emperor.

Brockwell Lido. Just getting my relatively warm arse down there and into the very cold water. Thanks for the community of ladies (aah, mixed swimming - best of both worlds? I love the Ladies' Pond, and I love sharing the pool with people, not just one flavour of people). You still get that communal femaleness in the changing rooms. And Caroline, you complete stranger, you, thank you for lending me your neoprene gloves and socks, thus saving me hand and foot death and allowing me to stay in longer. And finally, for the acceptance that though the ponds delight me in their beauty and natural richness, an outdoor pool has other things to offer - like doing actual lengths (which, with a cap and some goggles, is totally possible, but such a waste in the ponds). And there are LOTS in London.

The Rail Replacement Bus that took my bike on it, thus saving me about an hour, I reckon. That could have been quite some trek, and a bad road to cycle on too (fast, narrow). 

Dilly, for lovely chat, Our Face, from afar, for a poetry book, Rob, for wisdom and sense and mind-opening finger-tapping. And for pictures of goats on top of stuff. And that pear. 

Day 532: Lean On Me

Oh, today, you were really quite something. I cherished you. It was full of my last day at Crisis and an unexpected and very valued hot chocolate in the National Galllery Cafe with Ruth. Wonderful!

I blushed this morning. A rather attractive gentleman was visible on the train. I may have been caught looking, or vice versa, and then I got embarrassed. Getting off, I walked past  the window he was in and we looked/smiled... as I realised that I'd gone the wrong way, down the platform, away from the exit, so I had to turn around, in full view, and walk back past again. THAT's when I blushed. Silly really. I'm unlikely to ever see that man again, and even if I did, that'd be a bonus, not a thing of real shame... but the embarrassment switch is easily flicked, even if I did quite enjoy the whole thing.

Sign-painting felt different today. I decided to do whatever was to be done and to be at one with that. And I'd promised to sing. I had a think about it and I had some notes with me (sung ones and written ones). We advertised. We talked to people. 4pm came and only two volunteers had turned up. I tried teaching them thuma mina, but they were pretty non-plussed at it being unfamiliar, so we tried 'Lean On Me' instead. That brought us two people - one who'd promised to come and one, a deeply religious woman, who said she'd come only if we sang gospel. Lean on me is delicious in that I don't think it is gospel, but it could easily be. Everyone was happy. 

Lovely lady taught us a gospel song; the other man didn't want to sing it BECAUSE it was gospel. That defined it, then. I downloaded all kinds of song lyrics onto my phone, and Jay printed some out for us and we sang. I found, once again, that I don't seem to be able to sing Wonderful World without crying. Would have been harder if I'd been leading the melody. We sang lots of songs - that, You Are My Sunshine, Amazing Grace, My Way and more. We only just managed harmonies and I don't think we sang very well, but we sang together and really enjoyed it. It was by no means a very skilful bit of facilitation or a very precise bit of musicality, but it was a joy. Lovely lady (let's call her Sally - not her name, in fact) was glowing and the man had a lovely strong voice. There's a joy in together-singing that has nothing to do with quality. There's a joy in it that does, too - the pleasure of sound measuring well against itself - but there's love in it whether it sounds good or not. 


I say love, Sally says God. I think we're talking about the same thing. She feels more strongly about the wording. After everyone else had gone, we sang with and to each other, learning new songs and enjoying not only the other's voice, but the message and carriage of each song. It was quite transcendental! Thanks, once again, to Mahasukha, whose songs were with me all the way. We managed In These Arms and were both moved by Bright Morning Stars. We didn't even manage to sing harmonies of those together, but we did share them, and a fine gospel song or two, sung with such passion. Fantastic!

That prompted the man with a voice like port and sticky, dark molasses (let's call him Velvet)  joined us and sang a few, and a gentleman I've been stalking (kind of with his permission) since we first chatted a few days ago, came to say hello. We all went downstairs, where the guitarist from the Stone Roses was playing for everyone. He wanted singers and backing singers... so that was us. Velvet sang No Woman No Cry and Redemption Song. And we went up to join in. Sally - meek and mild, not one to perform, came up with me. We danced in unison and sang into the mic together. It was fabulous.

makes you (in)vincible

I sang badly and 'jammed' with a kind of schoolish precision... no soul as such, but some okay harmonies behind the tunes. I'm really, really proud. I did something that was visibly, evidently and blatantly not perfect in front of a great big crowd of people and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the connection with Sally in particular and I actually really loved the backing vocally jam. 

I would love to be there tomorrow, but I shan't go. I will stick to my plan, go home and start my tax return, and see lovely J Loudon, I hope. I am full of warmth and love, though; I've really enjoyed being able to walk around that centre and look people in the eye, every person, and smile at them; to be in a place where I get to have conversations with anyone who's willing. I am grateful for the politeness of most who declined offers of activities and things to do, and for the willingness of those who came. I'm delighted by the volunteers and the way we all worked today and I'm all fired up by the loveliness. Part of me thinks that I ought to stop looking and smiling as I have been, but I think it's better just to carry on. I enjoyed that whole experience so much - I am so filled up by it.

Oh my god! If this is what I get to do again next year, I think I might just be looking forward to Christmas!

Day 531: Crisis Crisis

Me

I was a grumpy-faced old cow this morning. Grumpy-bellied. I felt bad. I felt insecure. I've noticed this, over my time doing the Crisis at Christmas shifts. I often feel insecure and defensive and I think it comes out. I have conversations with other volunteers sometimes which I feel must be hideous. Then I remember that most of the hideousness happens inside my head. Some of it leaks out, but the level of it is almost always minimal. I could feel at the point of breaking and what would come out would be a slight tightness in the voice or a shuffle or a misplaced word or two. Nothing to make that other person's experience awful. Sometimes mine. 

So today, I really wanted to make a difference. I went in with the intention to make my being there worthwhile, to use any skills I have to make the experience of the people I come into contact with more positive than if I hadn't been there. Yoga, I thought. Creative writing. Some singing, maybe. Big Jenga, of course, and finally a guided meditation. I've tried a few times but haven't promoted it well enough. Today. Today was the day. 

Or not. 

The yoga space had been appropriated by someone doing a gong bath. They were quite far away (it's a massive building), but when asked, they were only willing to share the space with a yoga class if I didn't talk too loud. Fair enough - their thing is based on sound. So no yoga. Guided meditation was out - theirs was absolutely meditation, so it made sense to guide people there for an experience they can only have today. I suggested creative writing. There was a poet there today. He was going to do a reading, and if there was creative writing to be done, he'd be the one to do it. That's not true. What he actually said was that we should do it together and I heard something else. I said 'okay' and thought 'oh for fuck's sake, how will that even work? I just want to do one thing!'. At which point the art teacher, who earlier had said 'If you do yoga, I'll come and help you teach - I'm a yoga teacher', said 'Collaboration is good.'. Ha! Hsa! I thought 'I fucking well know collaboration is "good", it's my business to know that... AND I DON'T WANT TO! That tickled me and pained me at the same time. 

Omar makes me feel better, even with a gun

I spent the next few hours feeling lame, being instructed to make posters for everyone else's workshops (and I'm really unskillful at that) and feeling deeply frustrated and sorry for myself. Then I went to play Big Jenga with someone - it's a good thing to do to get talking to people and to make a connection. Complaints from the gong people came through. When it fell, it wasn't nice for their relaxing clients. Another thwarting - nothing that I'm good at is valued a all, I thought. My ego was raging. It was kicking back at being worthless and unskilful and was feeling the need to assert itself as valuable because of this. In that state, it missed many little gifts that were still being given and believed all kinds of awful things about what others must be thinking of me. Aaah, the irony... so wrapped up in my own navel, surrounded by people in a situation so hideous, and not hugely far removed from any of us, especially me. Being homeless is horrible. Having nowhere to go and nowhere to belong. The situation in itself is enough to change the mental state of even the strongest person. Many people are very strong indeed, because they have to be. Some aren't. Both ways, it's hard. 

shiiiiiiiit

I spent some time talking gently to myself as I observed. It didn't change anything, but it did make the experience, so obviously self-constructed, simpler and easier to be in. So if I wasn't trying to PROVE my worth, what am I good at? What would be my 'gift' - the thing I can do with ease that makes things better for others. Through my grumpy sing-making, I talked to a lot of people. Some of those conversations were very worth it. In the end, that's what I did for most of the day. Talk to people. And we did the creative writing. One person came (then another, then another). It was really interesting and enjoyable. I forgot to feel unworthy and the whole thing flowed and felt easy, even the bits that didn't. By the end of the day, then, I was flying, and ready to add an extra day to my shifts (though it might be the prospect of my tax return that's helping with that idea. 

So - a successful day, despite myself. And tomorrow, I've promised to sing with people. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! 

Day 530: Sunshine

stuff this turkey

I proper love that I genuinely don't give a shit about Christmas Day as a tradition, as today proved. Any melancholy is to do with a constructed comparison which truly doesn't really exist. Again, denial isn't worth the energy: would I rather be in the arms of a beautiful, soul-deep man who loves me? Fuck yeah, of course I would! Does that mean sitting in a house eating 'what you eat at Christmas' and watching telly? Fuck no, of course it doesn't. I look forward to being in that man's arms every day, and to be doing exciting things; to be doing what I did today, what I did this time last year, what I may be doing this time next year. You can keep the turkey and stuffing, though. More for everyone else. 

Today was pie. I liked it. A long bike ride towards one centre, covered in sun. I loved the ride, but kept thinking 'shit, if I have to come back this way, and this long, after my shift, I'm going to be in trouble'. A text diverted me to another centre closer to home, meaning I arrived a bit late, but was able to spend half an hour rather than at least an hour and a half on the journey back, and still have useful day out of it. 

I was touched and tempted by an open door from those lovely Grundels, and nearly went round just because it was such a nice thing, but what my body wanted was a bath, a happy cat (all fed, all purrsome) and my bed. So here I am. Gift received, nevertheless. Thank you. 

Thank you, Andy, for taking the trouble to send me some music so I can try out some singing in the centre tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that, I am, and I'm proper appreciative of your help and time. Today, fine people, a creative writing workshop, bingo, art room, a fabulous Irish singer wearing TWO buffs, both in that green I could die in. Good voice, and some lovely improvised songs going on with him and a young girl. Strong voices. Good stuff.


Finally, best news ever today, on facebook, that my fine friend Oyvind is back to raging good health. I'm very happy. That'll do!

Day 529: Goodnight, Biscuit

Such a feast today.

I absolutely did this face

This morning, in the interests of walking towards the pain, I went for a swim in Brockwell Lido. Oh my freezing fuck! It was intense. I haven't been in cold water for two months or so. Whenever it was, it was hovering around 12 and I'd been in when it was a few degrees above. Doing it in stages is a gentle way forward. But we weren't doing gentle this morning. I don't have my neoprene socks and gloves here with me, so it was barefooted and, more painfully, barehanded, that I went in. First time round, I got out again. I waited for a lady to come back from her first length and I joined her, swearing like a curse-bin. I did one length. I walked back. Next time (which will be on Friday), I will come back, a length there and a length back. 

As I lay in bed, the only way I could make myself do it was to imagine the conversation I'd have later, with myself or someone else: I was going to go for a swim in Brockwell Lido, but.... Doesn't matter what follows. Or 'I went for a swim in Brockwell Lido and...' something was done. A better option, quite simply. 

Which leads me to the talk below, which deals with the same themes: thanks, Rob Grundel, for this fantastic TED talk and for a brilliant, brilliant meeting this morning. I am very grateful for you and for what we do. Both inspire me. 

This time last year, here I was, doing this

Thank you, too to sweet Cat, not handsome cat, the actual cat, but beautiful, lovely Cat from the TTC, Cat. We met this afternoon. I was attempting to give blood (they said no again, still too low on iron - which means it is now vital that I sort my diet the fuck out and make it so that I can have the energy and good nutrition my body deserves). And then Cat texted to say she could be there sooooon, and she was. We had deep conversations and hot chocolate just off Oxford Street. I am full up and very happy. 

And to ice that particular cake, I had a fabulous skype chat with Fiona Sweny, also a TTC queen and life-transformer. How good is this? How good? Very good indeed, that's how good. She renamed the cat here 'Biscuit', which I like better than his actual name. 

And he's a cat. He doesn't give a shit what I call him as long as the food pouch turns up and the door is opened when he wants to go out. Biscuit is asleep on the bed after a half-hearted bat at my computer cord. Goodnight, Biscuit. May your dreams be full of flitting bluebottles.

Day 528: Surprisingly Pink

There's something so fluid about volunteering. I feel happy doing it. It just sits well with me. It's never really done for anyone else's sake but my own. It's just such a big joy.

Today, I had a song sung to me by a man with a glisteny-rich, mellow voice, like thick Italian chocolate filled with spice. I had a ninja table tennis lesson - shit - I improved more in those 5 minutes than ever in my life. Amazing! I played big Jenga with a lot of people, goaded many of them and laughed a lot. I had conversations with people from so many different places, including someone from the UK whose opinions I disagreed with hugely, but who I felt lots of love for. Honestly. Love. Brighton, you haven't helped, but that hippy was always there somewhere. I'm down with it, though. It is, IT IS all about love.

By Jayson Brinkler

I've just been used as a leverage point for yesterday's cat (also today's) as he cleaned himself. That's a first. His paw pads are surprisingly pink. Never done a day's work (etc.). He's very handsome. If he was a human man, people would swoon. He's not. He's a cat. I'm not swooning. I'm just saying. 

I met the person who made this (the clue is in the name). http://www.jaysonbrinkler.com/Site  I'm blown away. I think I like the centenarians even better than the newborns, which is really saying something, and there is so much harsh beauty in the Auschwitz photos and humanity in the artists. Have a look. Seriously. Do it. 

By Jayson Brinkler

Looking forward to tomorrow. Some of my favourite things and one of my least... The least: need to be in/near Oxford Circus tomorrow, just after lunch. NIGHTMARE! The rest? Ah, I'll tell you tomorrow.

Day 527: Pile of Arse

Search term: careful cat. Not that careful *

A cat has just done careful feet over the bed I'm in, before finding a corner. I think we can co-exist, though I'm not down with the door being wide open, cat-face. We'll have to go halves on that.

Lovely text from lovely Ruth, and one from fine Goodings. A dinner carefully cooked for me, some smiling Italians, a badger, a number of parrots and some new keys. Tomorrow: Crisis. Better sleep, then. I'm looking forward to a full day's work. Get in!

* While looking for this image, I found that someone has created a whole website devoted to snow leopards 'tail nomming'. The internet, I have no words.

Oh, and for those who might suspect me of pollyanna glossing, I am experiencing thumping self-dissatisfaction today. I'm examining it and trying to feel it rather than block it. On that note, off to meditate with it for a bit. There will be gold hidden inside that there pile of arse. 

Day 526: For My Sake, Not Yours

So, I've just reminded myself that I'm still 'facebook friends' with a person who has chosen not to pay me for the work I've done for him (though he's happy enough with the work to use it on his website).

As you can hear from the tone, I'm not QUITE over it yet, but I've been having a think, and I have managed to find some things in this situation that bring me benefit, so without denying that I'm really unhappy that this is what he's decided to do, and quite frustrated at not having any control over the situation (he ignores my emails and facebook messages, and my attempts to call him at his place of work resulted in that organisation's automated system saying there was nobody of that name working there...). Here's what this has done for me, though.

[little warning here - if I were you, I'd stop reading now. This is entirely for my benefit. This is me standing on a rock, having a howl. Have a nice day and let's speak tomorrow]

1. It's the first time. In seven years of freelancing (three and a half of those full time), this is the first time anyone has decided not to pay me. It came close once before, but the person came round (and, no doubt out of guilt, ended up paying a bit more than the amount I invoiced him for, without ever mentioning it). 

2. It's for a relatively small amount - about £200. It's the kind of amount that still makes a difference. I had to choose this week between buying a second hand bike and going to a weekend solstice ceremony. That's the kind of difference it makes - not homelessness, bankruptcy, dreadful situation difference. A bit of a difference. I'm very lucky that it's not more than that, and that it's come at a time where I'm not hand to mouth in the way I have been.

3. My instincts are good. I need to respect them more. There was an element of hard work about our interactions, despite the best intentions. Had I listened to the little voice tugging on my consciousness sooner, I'd have wrapped up and invoiced sooner. Also, when the money didn't arrive and only little bits of work trickled in, I could have stopped right then. I noticed the pattern had changed and felt something coming... and I carried on being polite and nice and helpful, and turning things around at the drop of a hat for him. Instincts are there for a reason.

4. I had my part to play. I made it easy for him. He offered to pay me up front (for piece work that would then add up to the amount he'd paid me). I thought that would be weird, so I said no and did a few months of work for him.

5. Integrity is really, really important to me. It's good to know this and trust me, much as it may sound like it, it's not in a 'holier than thou' way. I have messed up on this front. In the past (one very memorable time when I was 13, involving not paying a good person some money back because I thought I could get away with it. I was then forced to, thank goodness, and worried about that act for years) and, thanks to this unpaid invoice situation, I got to examine where I might be cheating now. Turns out, I was refusing to pay Three for a shoddy service and objecting to their business methods... but I had used some of their service for one bit of what I was refusing to pay for. Crappy service, and they make it hard and costly for you to cancel an account. It's still stealing, though. Now paid. And how about those French coaching lessons, which I had always said to the lady I'd send her invoices for, but hadn't got round to. It wasn't an act committed, but it was a thought that existed. This situation has helped with that. It's really important to me and I feel pain when I go against it. So no more of that. And just to make it clear (to myself, really) - I am not refusing to pay someone and using their work. But it's a matter of planting a seed, and the seeds I want to plant are those of abundance and honesty... so I'll get out a trowel and the Baby Bio and get started. 

6. This is the exception, not the rule. That can apply to other areas of my life too. I've made some questionable calls about who it's okay to trust. This one person turned out not to be trustworthy in this particular context. Much as my mind goes to all kinds of silly places, I'm sure we're not dealing with a conman or a sociopath. I'm sure he loves his kids and his wife, respects his friends, is honourable and entertaining. He is friends with people I respect, and imagine to have good judgement... I suspect it's just opportunism. What's she going to do? She's in another country. Nobody can make me! And he's right. Nobody can. The point is (back to point 1), it's rare and (point 3) I have a sensor. I can trust more people. It will all turn out just fine and even when things don't go to plan, it's not actually the end of the world.

7. 'It's not fair' hurts me more than not receiving the money. As in, my reaction, and my ego's indignation - that's what hurts. Him not paying in itself doesn't cause pain (as above - this has come at a good time, when there's been other work - it's not like I'm going to not eat, or get evicted because of this). It's the fact that I'm focusing on what SHOULD happen, that he's using the work, that he's carrying tweeting jolly and/or motivational posts about treating people right, and Being Funny With His Friends - how dare he! Ha. I can choose to hold onto this, or I can choose to let it go. He's unlikely to pay me now, and holding on tight isn't going to change that. He's not in this country, so there's absolutely no point even thinking about making it official. So which am I going to choose?

There's more, but it's late. Thank you. This has genuinely helped. And here we are, salt and pepper. This is how gratitude and a situation that I don't want to be happening can live peacefully alongside each other. And what a mild version of a difficult situation. Hell yeah. Let's go with that!

Day 525: In These Arms/Yesterday's Owl

Thanks, Christian de Sousa

I went all the way up to London just for another Sweaty Thursday. It was epic and fabulous and I'm deeply glad I went. I went to move something through my body. I went because I needed to dance. I went because I knew I could turn up there any way at all - in any mood, with anything on my mind, in joy or in something else - and it would be totally fine. 

Yesterday's owl. Has my ears.
Thanks, Daniel

I was all contradictions. I was full of emotions and quite separate. I needed some space. I danced much less with partners than usual and I felt a force field around me for some of it, like a wall. The partner shout would go out and I'd look up and people would be there, but making no connection with me. Like being on Misfits and getting that invisibility vibe going on. 

At the same time, before I even arrived, I was yearning to be held in the arms of someone strong, just so. No demands, no flirtation, no expectations of anything - just held with tenderness, connection and groundedness. That's what I needed. That's what I wanted. It's never happened before and I didn't actively initiate it, but it happened, just so. Just perfect. I am grateful, grounded and held. 

Day 524: I Like to Ride

ish

I got SO WET earlier. Stormed up, soaked and buffeted. Not boofayed, proper gusted about. And then whipped up and surrounded by swirling, pummelling rain on the way home again. I was swinging between giddy giggling and being massively grateful not to be sleeping rough. Jesus, that'd be awful. If you couldn't avoid getting as wet and cold as I did, you'd be stuffed. Hmmm.

NEEEEEEEW BIKE! I bought it today. Quickly and easily. It's a Raleigh front and seat suspension hybrid with an uprightish position and masses of bounce. I can hop up kerbs, bound over sleeping policemen and generally pump it as I ride. It's ace. And I'm back to being a six-year-old. I'm playing out on my bike, all the time. The sensible option would be the purple ladybike with a rack and a stand, mudguards and a cover over the chain. I had to get this, though - a boybike with attitude. I love it. 

There's more to tell, but it can wait: you can't beat a new bike. 

Day 523: Full of Nift

I am SPENT... but quickly, swiftly, nifitily:

Singing lesson yesterday. I loved it. I found out that I have more range than I thought. I made some mighty high squeaks. It's interesting to see how high I can go and to find out if, in a few months, anything has changed. 

Rob Grundel was ACE today. French AS-Level lesson was ACE. Rehearsal was ACE. The Spanish girl on the phone to her mum who kept saying 'gillipollas' [hilly poh-yjas](arsehole) and what sounded like 'For fuck's sake, mum' [coño, mama] was making me smile. 

Karen Faith Artist done this! How brilliant. Check her out on facebook to see the finished article. She's an artist, innit. She's got skill! I quite like it that I haven't got a mouth here. Call me old-fashioned, but I do.

And a clever clue. Oooh, oooh, oooh. I liked it. And chats with Adeel and with Lilley (x 2!). Oh, and a great big juicy chat with Our Face, which was lovely. Hell, yeah! Right - I promised nifty, and nifty it is. Skate over the top nift, that is. Skated. 

Day 522: Dot Dot Dot

This woman: Poet, Northern Ninja, Thinker, Rhymer, Odd-Catname-Giver, Wife, (not mine), Sister. Proud of her. 

This man: Maker, Surprise, Androgynous-Name-Bearer, Northern Ninja Too, MeDelighter, Irreverer. Pleased to see him. 

Day 521: Manic Fingers and a Can of Worms

I've got manic fingers. I've just been proofing a load of documents for some lovely people at a company in Norway. It has to be done today. It was INTENSE and really very enjoyable. I love playing with language, whether it be making it simpler or messing with it. I just spent twenty minutes writing a great long post about that, but I found myself too concerned with being right, so I've cut it. I'll sleep on it and see.

Today, I loved my work. I loved laughing at an inappropriately funny post (the subject of the long post). That was a laugh that took me by surprise, that was out of me before I could think about anything. There was a bit of glee stuck to it when it came out. Went in my drink. 

My bike - doing its best

I haven't found a bike yet. I got all surprised this morning when I realised I couldn't really be anywhere I liked in 10 minutes, because it's nothing but a bikey carcass now... I need to sort that out (and must remember it when I go for a singing lesson tomorrow - remember to leave enough time). I am looking forward to making friends with my new bike. It'll be lush, that will. Actual new or new to me, either way, but in good condition and well ridable. That's what I'd like. Mmmm. I'm going to love it. I can tell. 

Day 520: Soulfed

Best. Buddha. Evah.

Today was filled with singing, good people, and joy.

At the Dome's Soulful Singing session, we sang the song that makes me cry every time. I don't know its name as such, but the words are 'Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms'. It's beautiful and I always well up singing it. There are a few like that. The problem with that one is that when I'm away from it, I seem to be unable to retain the melody properly. It doesn't matter. I'll have to go back.

This is what she looked like when I was
doing fart-hand.

Delicious Miriam, Nick and Lila came to sing. No babies allowed, apparently, but they stayed in for a while. It totally make sense not to have kids in there, but I have to confess that I was delighted that they didn't heed that. The were all delightful. Lila all giggly and curious. She has a fantastic laugh. She cried when her mother first gave her to me to hold, but once we'd established a game of me gobbling up her little hands or blowing raspberries on her palms, she seemed to feel that a bit of hip-sitting was okay. 

I realise that I am broody as all shit. Given that there is no pragmatic outlet for that right now, and possibly never will be, I think it's just fine to pay lots of attention to babies and let that nurturing happen with other people's children. Whether or not I have my own, that is always available to me. And what fun! I am so entertained by entertaining a child.  The version of me that has a dog and a toddler is blissfully happy in one set of ways. Other versions of me who have all kinds of other things are blissfully happy on other planes. It's all good. The version of me that is right now is between a number of stools. Happy, yes, often, but the bliss is elusive. There's only me that can make that different. Let's get to work on that, then. Now.

Ride that mofo - because you can - because you have to

On that note, I felt a bit lost and lonely after singing. Off they all went to rehearse. I would have loved to have been joining them and singing for longer, preparing for a performance.. all of that. And hanging out with nice people, becoming part of a community. I haven't been here long and I'm just starting to build some delicious connections. Shame that I seem to be about to be away from here for a while. And it's normal - I'm in an new (new/old, but new nevertheless) town with no structured job and no other reason for community. It's totally normal that it takes a while to shape a community, especially when you're out of town a lot. It takes time, energy, effort and lots of those occasions when you think 'I haven't got the energy for this' and then you find out, by doing it, that you had. 


Oh.. I mashed my bike again... my faithful old friend. The derailleur came off as I changed gears uphill and went into the back wheel. This has happened before and was shoddily replaced by someone in Acton. I think the bike is dead - to me anyway. To someone who gets pleasure from building monster bikes from old ones, it'd be lovely. I'm sad, of course. I'm entirely bereft without a bike. I can't really function. I love it. I don't want to afford a new one. It's not in my plan. However, buying a bike is one of my favourite things in the world, ever, and it's not often you get to do it. It's not often you need to. So if that is what is to happen, I'm going to revel in it. Need to have that sorted by Wednesday at the latest. Hmmm.

My bike is one of these (a ridgeback)
and just as regal

The workshop was rich and warm and wonderful this morning. I bumped into Andrew Cain, who sings there only we haven't crossed over before. He was very warm and welcoming and it was good to see him. He was performing tonight, which leads me to my next little bit of joy: the Winter Sacred Concert. With J! J is my Friend From University (I have one friend from my university - J - and one friend from the other university, but who I lived with  - Jochen. I may not have many, but god, I chose well!). J came with me to see the concert. We walked down, which meant time to chat and fresh air and breeze. 

A thing of beauty

The concert was very tasty indeed, and spiritual, full of sweetness and harmony, listeny, smooth, human and gorgeous. The Buddha there was a joy to look at... all turquoises and oranges mixed. Fabulous. There were some beautiful faces that I enjoyed looking at very much and some voices that made me want to sing. I did sing, but only when invited. I mouthed all of them and sang along in my head, but if all of us who had been to the workshops had actually sung, I reckon we could have collectively sloppied up their performance. We didn't... I think anyone singing along was doing so silently or very quietly indeed. It was so beautiful. Lots of songs I did know and one or two I didn't. The last mantra blew me away and blew itself right into the very cells of me. Thank you, Soulful Singers and Mahasukha. 

Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese

J said insightful things about the singers and the set-up and she enjoyed it. She also flipped me the finger just before it started, which really made me laugh, in (and out of) context. Afterwards, we got to walk home together too. That's such a big bonus. 

I love Brighton. Nuff Said. 

Day 519: Severe Meta Warning

I spoke at the Catalyst Club last night. About writing this blog. I enjoyed it very much (in the end). In the beginning, I was afraid. Remember, remember, remember this. It's worth doing it. The things I am afraid of almost always turn out to be the things I enjoyed the most.

A very lovely thing that also happened last night was the appearance of some lovely people - Miriam, Nick and Lila. Lila is one. They sat next to me at the Catalyst Club. Lila was fast asleep at first and then woke up. She was very entertaining (and very quiet, considering). I liked them all. They were from Australia. They were warm and lovely and they helped me relax. Miriam answered a question from the audience when I didn't know the answer. She also said afterwards 'that was so much better than I expected it to be', which was a compliment. They were the people who got to witness my self-doubt. It felt almost simpler than that. It wasn't low self esteem style self doubt so much as actually not knowing whether or not it would be okay. It was. That was nice.

I enjoyed being in front of an audience and I enjoyed interacting with the people in it. As usual, some of my favourite bits were unplanned. Of course I'd do the whole thing differently if I did it again. I do want to do it again, though. Deffo.

Today, vegetables and more very fine people. I went to Dave and Rachel's house in Egremont Place. Excursions were playing, so Rob and Ella were there too and Rob's brilliant wife Pamela (and wide-eyed, rap-dancing boy). I like them all very much. The gig was just right - they were really playful and joyful and skilful. It rocked. It rapped. I was so glad I went (I was yawning like a bike-riding abyss on the way there. I made a man laugh in the street with it).

I also met lovely Tina, smiley and interesting and down to earth, and her delightful friend Andy, all soul-eyes and groundedness. He seemed very open and positive. I liked him. He and Rachel (and Tina too, I think) go to the five rhythms class in Brighton on Tuesdays. And that's a drop-in too, I've discovered, a fact about which I am very happy. I wonder if it's on this week. There was a rash of Spanish people there too, which is always nice, and a just delicious couple who gave ConorJatter a lift to the station. 

Too cool for grammar, Mr Killah?

Speaking of joy (I was speaking of it), just as I was basking in the joy emanating from Rob as he made the music after the gig, Dave named it. Pure, moving joy. It was beautiful to watch and as always, I secretly, shamefully want to have at my fingertips the whole of his playlist. I feel too uncool for rap music, and I love it. I find it hard to keep names in my head and know that if I say the names, they're almost certain to slip out in proper plummy RP - "The Notorious B.I.G., did you say? And Ghostface Killah... Shouldn't that have a hyphen, young man?"

Day 518: It's Turned Out Grim Again

This: 

 Balaclava, you are SO last year. This the impractical and ridiculous way forward. Your own knitted Alien face hugger. YEEEESSSSS! 
It's $150, apparently. Which is hilarious. I suspect you can't even see out. See, the time my face is coldest (apart from up a mountain, which I hardly ever am) is when I'm on my bike. Imagine wearing one of those. It'd be hell on your peripheral vision. 

I have a fabulous rubber witch mask (£1.50 from Tesco about 5 years ago - I still have it). I wore it to a Halloween party* once and had a huge urge to wear it under my bike helmet on the way home. It would have looked so real with the helmet to cover the fake hairline. Wouldn't have been able to see much at all, though. I was sensible instead of scary. It was Shepherd's Bush, after all.

I went to this Five Rhythms class (Love Thy Everyone). It was truly fantastic. I loved loved loved it. Last week, at Sweaty Thursday, I danced bigger and with more people. Today, I flowed more - I let it take me over. I surrendered. There were moments of brainwork, where I realised that I was being all cerebral or trying to please someone, but for most of it, I was just moving. Just what I needed. Thank you, Fiona Sturrock, for suggesting it. I wanted to go but would almost certainly have stayed home, had it not been for you.

Tomorrow, I talk. I am gently terified. It's a good feeling. Thank you, Rob Grundel, for being the best person to talk to. Just brilliant. Thank you for your stories and your wise.

* A party at which I disgraced myself with a monkey and a bag of liver. So, it's a Halloween party, right? And they want it to be spooky and scary. When I was little, I was (un)lucky enough to see a Hammer House of Horror film that marked me. No idea which one, but in it, a little girl has a toy white rabbit. She goes to sleep one night in the haunted house she lives in and when she wakes, there's her bunny on the floor of her room, only it's a REAL RABBIT and it's been EVISCERATED. No doubt she doesn't think of it in those terms, but she does a big old scream and it's suitably scary.

I looked everywhere for an affordable toy rabbit. Couldn't find one. I did find a monkey in Tiger, though (this is getting confusing). I found chicken livers at Morrisons. And there's a knife in any kitchen... WHAT? It was Halloween! Well, I thought it was funny.


 

Day 517: Frank in the Sky

Oxford Street, from in the sky

What is it about being up high that is so fabulous? Today, I was at the aptly-named Panorama bar at Centre Point. Up at the very top. And you can walk around it and look at the whole of London and anything else you can see. It's infinitely more exciting than the London Eye. Despite being surrounded by some trulywonderful people, at first, I kept getting distracted by how beautiful it was out of the window. It was. And giddy-heady, important-making. Oxford Street is really long! Canary Wharf looked amazing, with St Paul's looking like it had been photoshopped in a bit too big and a bit too garish just in front. It was stunning. 

Leftover dogs, from yesterday

And the people - Frank Partners. I LOVE working with them. The people are consistently brilliant, and none more than Neil and Anna who run it. And amazing Anna Darvas and Sarah Lonton (thanks for introducing me, love) and Joel and Alec and Amy and Lynden, oh god, so many people who just delight me. James. Justin. Bindu. What a mix! I missed the absolutely delightful Simone Douani, but we had a bit of a Simone love-in, so it was almost like he was there. Such a good egg. That's what it's like! It's like being in a big old tray of very good eggs. Thank you, Frank, for doing this for us. I feel like it's me who should be taking you out! You give me work I love, with playful people, and you pay me. Surely a fabulous night out at the top of a tower is really something we should treat you to! These are the kind of people I want to be working for and with. They rock.

That Simone, on the left. Best. Face. Ever

On the way there, I had one of those neck-and-neck things going on with a man going down the steps to the tube at Victoria. I noticed. I thought he had. He had. Before I could stop myself, I'd said 'Race you' and picked up the pace. He looked like he thought I might be about to rob him, but he smiled.

On the train on the way home, there was a little group in the doorway who got the total giggles about something. They were weeping with it. The girl had the most uncontrollable laugh. I found myself smiling all the way back. The man opposite me, who had the most beautiful face, old, lived-in, with the brightest eyes and wonderful plump cheek pips, was smiling all the way too (god, that face has done a lot of smiling). We finally gave in to our evident urge to talk to each other, and we revelled in the laughers for the last five minutes or so of the journey. The man next to him was a proper huffer. He'd been letting out 'I'm not angry, I'm disappointed (I'MREALLYANGRY)' phoos all the way down. I swear I saw a tiny smirk by the end. Probably at rather than with, but who cares. 

As I got off, I saw the girl. I asked it it was her who'd been laughing. As she said yes, she seemed regress to about 11 years old, obviously expecting to be told off (ha - who am I to tell her off?) I said 'You have the best laugh ever'. Which made her laugh. And say thank you. Lovely.

Looking at the yellow moon, halved, tilted up, all open-faced I had the hippiest of 'we are all made of the same atoms' kind of buzz. You, me, the tarmac, the Buddhists, the egg yolks, the trees, the deodorant canisters, the air... It's Brighton. What did you expect?

Oh... and this dog: