Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Such a comfort


My mother just told me two things ‘you are never happy unless you have something to worry about’ and ‘smarten yourself up’. Nothing unusual about mothers making tactless and irritating comments except this, mine died in 1986. If you feel the need to be criticised by the immortal nit picking undead then head to The Spiritualist Church, 13 Pembridge Place W2 Wednesdays at 7.30. The whole experience was quite traumatising, I had to run home fast to press icecubes against my heart lest it defrosted entirely but I will be going back next week to see if she gives me the lottery numbers (dressed smart!)

Oh Lord can you see, by the dawns early light ..


In NYC no one cooks anything at home ever, I once shocked a friend I was staying with by asking if he had coffee ‘Oh no ‘ he admonished ‘ I never cook!’ . He proudly whizzed open a kitchen draw which instead of being full of the usual array of deadly kitchen paraphernalia was stuffed with take away menus. It was an excellent system – you just pick up the phone, order dinner and a Mexican kid shows up with it 20 minutes later. Food is inexpensive – delivery is free – which means you can afford to give a substantial tip to aforementioned Mexican in an attempt to offset your own discomfort regarding the endemic racism of North America. I just made a vegetarian Shepherds Pie – which confirmed to me that I never want to cook again - I f**king hate it , carrying the stuff home was exhausting, then I had to do everything – touching the vegetables makes my fingers feel all crinkly – loads of washing up , nearly got burnt , major cleaning operation afterwards - hideous!

Monday, 28 September 2009

The oldest trick in the book


One evening in Soho I was hanging out with this man I should have avoided like the plague. He suggested that we go to a brothel together. ‘To do what, exactly?’ I asked. All manner of scenarios ran though my mind none of which I liked the look of. He made no reply and instead ushered me towards Berwick Street. I was secretly panicking, firstly because I couldn’t remember what underwear I had on and secondly as a vegetarian I am not a fan of exploitative relationships. My companion, however loved hookers, he was constantly bragging to anyone who would listen about how many he had slept with. He insisted on giving me money if I slept with him – I took it to keep him happy the first time but after that depressing experience I insisted upon it. He was a silly old fool, but not unkind and god knows he was quick. We turned down a piss soaked alleyway off the market; strangely no red light was apparent at the blackened windows above. I silently berated myself for being incapable of forming the word ‘no’. We finally got to the door way and there on the security gate hung a handwritten sign ‘CLOSED DUE TO LEAK’ I practically clapped with delight.
Anyway today I got an email from a friend who is campaigning against a government bill proposing to make paying for sex illegal. He asked me to sign an online petition and I declined because I never met a prostitute who operated within the law and I certainly don’t give a toss about punters rights. Anyway most of them are so gross they should be prosecuted for crimes of an aesthetic nature. Friend became ‘beyond human aid’ with indignation, cancelled our date for this evening and took to his bed. I did eventually back down and sign just to keep him happy.

Thursday, 24 September 2009

And the ones that mother gives you ......


Age ten, I took my first over dose when my mum told me she was getting married (THE NEXT DAY) and that we would be leaving my grandparents house where we lived to share a new rented house in a couple of miles away with Jimmy! He was a dark haired man she had been seeing for a couple of months. Occasionally he brought me gifts that I stamped on - I imagine the happy couple suspected news of their union would not be well received, hence the delay with my invitation.
My overdose consisted of a topiary of the contents of my grandparents medicine cupboard. I guess I swallowed a heady concoction of paracetamol, blood pressure pills and Haliborange washed down with Buttercup Syrup. My whole family stayed up late to await relatives arriving from the South. I passed out and unconcerned they put me to bed.
The next morning I awoke to discover that heaven looked very much the same as my tiny purple wallpapered box room. Gordon the goldfish rolled his eyes at me. I came fast to the conclusion that I had been defeated rather than saved. My mum had hung a new dress on my wardrobe - it was blue and white and it had a fabric belt - plain on one side, printed on the other. Later as she helped me put it on she explained that it was 'reversible'.

Sunday, 20 September 2009

I am here


My favourite thing about leaving London is returning to it. I went away for the weekend and I was in this beautiful house all on my own and it was blissful and perfect. I lasted 27 hours.

I like it rough


At the very edge of England, in the dark of night, I made a list of all I desire; tore it into tiny pieces and let the waves carry it back to the one I will return to. I feel so full of life when I stand by the ocean at night, I feel that I can have everything, be anything, do anything I ever wanted to do and yet at the same time there is the part of me that just wants to walk right in like Reginald Perrin.

Saturday, 19 September 2009

Deal or no Deal


One night on the Kent coast I stood under the night sky and stared out over the black sea. A layer of mist separated the upper darkness from the lower darkness. I realised in that moment I was both insignificant and omnipotent and equally as damned as I am blessed.

Thursday, 17 September 2009

What goes round - comes round


I have been told that if people really piss you off you should pray for them – like pray they get hit by a bus and die squished on the road in agony? Apparently not! We should send loving thoughts to the bastards and wish for them what we would want for ourselves.
Dear God
Please send that annoying c--t a bottle of perfume from Liberty, Prada thigh boots and a long weekend in The New York Standard Hotel. Thanks awfully.
Amen

Friday, 11 September 2009

I love my job


I walked my ancient ram shackled Chihuahua through St James Park just now. She still has it going on in her own way. All the super furry and feathery animals of the park have their own ‘ho stroll’ along the pathway that leads around the lake. They hustle the tourists for nuts and bread. My own dog likes to work the picnickers – she cuts a cute dash over to them and then as they reach for their cameras she heads for the hills. Most of them clue on pretty quick that she aint doing nothing for nothing. If she had a phone box card it would say ‘will pose for ham’ .

Hope springs eternal


'I'm completely optimistic - I know the end is coming! '

Lydia Lunch

For love and money


'Employees make the best dates. You don't have to pick them up and they're always tax-deductible.'

Andy Warhol

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Degrees of separation


Excellent news! Yesterday over tea and scones at Yauatcha Soho I discovered that there is only four tiny degrees of separation between Eric Northman and I. Having worked wonders with far worse odds I am obviously thrilled. It turns out that the man I was having tea with is a very good friend of the actor Stephen Moyer who plays Bill in the True Blood series. My friend kindly offered to get me a signed photo – it was one of those moments when I thought ‘do you know me at all?’