Return of the Magpie…

Following on from my previous ADHD related article Ooh look! There’s a Magpie and the generous feedback I received, I thought I’d explore more Filter Off writing with the intention to demonstrate the persistent nature of this gentle hysteria... 

FILTER OFF. I am so tired, crushingly tired. Fucking alarms going off all around the office. Shut the buggery up. Why are all these people shouting and talking such utter bollocks. It is doing my head in. The person next to me SHOUTS all the time. FILTER ON. I’m tired today, the office can be a slight struggle sometimes. FILTER OFF. I am drifting through the day. I should – STOP SHOUTING – really get on with work. Had to pause for a minute to keep my mood placid. 15 people in the same space all scrabbling for attention. We’ll all be out of work soon, unless we change things quickly. Should I go out and get some more Sushi. Or toast or both. Or go on a diet. Need to learn to type quicker to even hang on to the coat tails of my rapidly dissolving thoughts…. Crap mixed metaphor. 

 

Managed to go 4 seconds without accelerating downhill again. FILTER ON. And breathe. FILTER OFF. I wonder if this is a heart attack or a panic attack or an anxiety event or simply just another day in a shouty (Shouty McShoutyface) office. Sunak is up against it but he’ll weasel his way out. The Covid enquiry could be so much more. Do you remember watching the Buzzcocks on top of the pops? I loved their Mondrian style shirts. It is one L and two P’s. It is quite fascinating to observe these thoughts spinning off into the darkness of my imagination. Like Catherine Wheels loosely nailed to the garden fence, spinning off into the compost heap. I liked Langney Green, hopping over the wall to cut off the crucial 8 yards. [Stopped to check my WhatsApp, Instagram and FB accounts – Only one person liked my Harry Crosby tribute]. One of my favourite jokes is as follows. “The Leader of The Pedants’ Revolt – Which Tyler!” Now, don’t make me explain it… I remember hanging out of a window - I am Mersault, all Gitanes and Calvados FILTER ON. Mersault is the lead character in Camus' The Outsider.

 

I’ve given myself permission to ‘think quieter’ for the next 10 minutes. Might go for a walk around the block. FILTER OFF. Well, that didn’t happen. Instead, I explored the ‘Sound is Colour’ website and nearly bought two sweatshirts and a T-shirt! Also discovered that Nick Cave is doing a solo gig in the State Theatre Sydney, must must must get tickets for that… Ooh look! There’s a Magpie!!

 

There is a picture of a bug-eyed marsupial (A Northern Quoll apparently) staring down from above…. It is hot in Sydney today. Sweaty, a fuck I’m hot but prefer it to cold sort of day. Been thinking about the outfits that the mini drivers in The Italian Job wore (inspired by a picture of The Prisoners in similar outfits for their recent Roundhouse warm up gig in Herne Bay). I’ve just realised I have barely spoken at all since being in the office. FILTER ON. Just had 15-minute work conversation – professional/focussed. FILTER OFF. I can’t work out whether to play my Telecaster or Rickenbacker when overdubbing new songs at studio on Friday. World Peace… that ain’t ever happening. Next year is the Year of the Dragon or so the Chinese printers tell me. San Pellegrino bottle collection growing on my desk. I despise Boris Johnson more than anyone I can recall. How did people fall for this arrogant little twerp? Chelsea are doing very badly indeed. Not much longer for Pochettino… God I need to lose weight. FILTER ON. I’ll stop this here and now as it is rather exhausting, and I can see the look on your sad and tired faces… 

Ooh look! There’s a Magpie!!!

Day in the life... (September 2020)

Release

-- Being 

in love

with love.

Might just

be better

than being 

in love...

Meanwhile,

A man walks alone

on Curl Curl beach.

---- Modern Mersault

contented, passive

a low flame.

Sanctuary

release. 

I was looking for a job and then... #2

My email inbox is bursting with a thousand jobs, none of which are in the slightest bit suitable or relevant. But I suppose it is good to know that there are jobs for other people out there.

The sun has shone for most of today and despite the slight chill that accompanies these dry Sydney winter days, overall it is very pleasant. I scan the bookshelves in front of me, wondering when I will have to start selling off some of the rarer editions I have managed to collect during the years. I'm working backwards, deciding on which one will be the last to survive. I suspect it'll be either the limited edition Bukowski or the ltd edition Billy Childish.

Of the older more regular books, I'll be pulled between either The Outsider or A Happy Death. Camus has always been a touchstone for me and I already feel comforted by the knowledge that he'll be with me until the end. As for music, well most of the stuff I know own is MP3 but of the vinyl, goodness knows what I'll keep. I've already had the horrendous experience of losing my treasured box of 7" singles (including a signed Tin Soldier picture sleeve) back in 1990. I won't be able to do a runner with a bin bag and a couple of adidas holdalls this time. But, who know by the time this train reaches the end of the track I might have jettisoned enough crap...

I keep glancing enviously at the drinks cabinet, wondering how long I'll give the two bottles of Jameson a wide berth. Meanwhile, I am trying to make friends with the local Magpie family. I was attacked by one on Sunday whilst out riding my bike and am trying to make amends before the whole thing blows up into a full on feud. I'm not sure of the best approach really but I'm starting off with a bit of friendly banter. Although I suspect food would be a better bet.

I've been unemployed before and I'm starting to remember the overwhelming joy that small glimpses of security bring amidst the crushing disappointment of a regular day. This is not going to be easy but then again nothing ever is, is it?

Until tomorrow...

Albert, Albert Camus, everyone knows his name

Sitting on the windowsill with a copy of L'Etranger in my hand, half in, half out of my Susans Road flat watching the local boys returning from their football match...

Life as Sussexistentialist was wonderful. They were sweet, confusing but heady days.. The soundtrack was the MJQ and the guidebook was written by the former goalkeeper and Gitanes smoking French author Albert Camus. His novel L'Etranger (or The Outsider as it was roughly translated) re-calibrated the way I looked at the world. The simple act of lighting a cigarette, talking to a beautiful girl, making a meal for one and staring out at the traffic was now beyond the mundane. These were the actions of a man on the edge of society...

From the very beginning when Mersault (the hero of the novel) learns of his mothers death, through to the very end on the eve of is own death. He glides and skims through life, death, sex, drunkeness, arrest and being condemned to state execution, the sheer weight of the sun bleaching out the more mundane emotions and reactions of 'normal' people. 

All of which made life on the South Coast somehow far more bearable, knowing that others had felt the same way before.