i don’t think i believe in alternative universes, i don’t believe anything else could happen.

talking to lb tonight, i think i always assumed i believed in alternative timelines but i learnt that i don’t

i think basically i don’t believe in chance and i don’t believe in choice, but i believe that time moves in both directions and we are all god. which means that functionally there’s no difference between free will and no free will, and that nobody chooses who they are, and that if you started the universe again we’d end up here again by now.

“time moves in both directions“ is not the right way of putting it, that’s the most difficult part to articulate but it’s the reason i can believe that people are the result shape of their brains and their genes and their gut bacteria + everything that ever happened to them in their life (none of this is chosen, so nobody gets to choose who they are) while not being a nihilist.

but it’s like, we are god so when you make a choice it’s happening at the beginning of time, not now.

learning to love EVERYONE under those conditions is also how you can learn to love yourself, because you’re like hey i’m a person too.

I’m happy. i’m happier so much happier to be alive.

It feels like Spring is here already.

I felt well enough to work this week and actually did some real stuff, which is nice. Was hoping to attend boardgames on Wednesday but was not feeling well enough for that and instead I stayed home with the shits. I let my blood sugar get too high at the start of the week because I couldn’t stop eating hot dogs. It’s very unpleasant to feel all boiled up in sugar, all your organs like copper pennies in a glass of coke.

Somebody used my Monzo bank card to gamble a hundred pounds on a website called 888Sport. I reported it to Monzo and they said this:

Unfortunately this isn’t something
we’re able to treat as a fraudulent
transaction and because of this we
won’t be able to reimburse you for
these charges.
This decision is based on the data we
have available to us and the timeline of
transactions on your account is
suggesting it’s not possible for these
transactions to have been authorised
by anyone else.

Monzo

then they told me to talk to 888Sport about a refund. I explained that I’ve never used any gambling websites, that it wasn’t me so their data is wrong, asked why I didn’t have to confirm the charges with that Mastercard ID thing, and that it’s messed up that their response to a report of fraud is to tell me to sort it out myself. They said “sorry if this isn’t the outcome you hoped for”. So i’ve taken all my money out of Monzo and moved it to Chase which i didn’t know had accounts in the UK. Banking directly with JP Morgan, lol. too big to fail baybeee

Thursday I woke up and got up at around 7:30a.m. for the first time in months; the sky was bright blue, not the sickly blue of winter, and i felt that gentle agitating feeling just under my skin that usually means Spring is coming. I could really tidy up my flat or file a pull request under a sky like that. I ate eggs and salad all day to try to reduce the damage the hot dogs and the unexpected delivery of potatoes would cause to my eyeballs. On Thursday evening I took ketamine and wrote a song and had an hour long phone call with Christabel and slept well.

I spent most of Friday reeling from learning that Twitter has NFTs, PayPal lets you buy Cryptocurrency and we as a people are really letting the blockchain websites call themselves web 3.0. the indieweb should be web 3. it’s decentralized, builds on top of the current web, is about community, and uses the capitalist web as one of many optional transport systems. blockchain isn’t even the web, lol, it’s Internet. I can’t believe people, even some people on the left, seem to think there is a future in thinking of everything and everyone as a financial instrument. everyone’s favourite scheme is the ponzi scheme. i guess it’s the tech version of what we are all doing, commodifying our every experience and every emotion. On brand.

Though once that passed, I thought a lot about how funny it would be to camp out at a specific spot in London to tell the same bad joke over and over to strangers. I think the underlying concept probably came from that episode of Seinfeld where George goes back to the matinee showing of a movie about the Hindenburg so he can shout “that’s gotta hurt!” again, which made people laugh when he did it the first time. Next weekend perhaps I’ll spend a day beside the escalator in the underground pointing at the sign with my thumb and saying “but i don’t HAVE a dog! ha haha”.

On Saturday I dropped acid and tidied my apartment.

2:12p.m. <chee> drop acid and tidy the apartment is among the best ideas i've ever had
2:21p.m. <chee> why do productivity blogs never give you simple useable tips like drop acid and tidy the apartment?
...
3:53p.m. <chee> ok it turns out there are some drawbacks from a pure productivity standpoint, but

My apartment is nice and tidy now, and i went on a lovely long walk and practiced some watercolour brush techniques and wrote some music. I changed the strings on my guitar while on the phone with Christabel in the evening, and then later I put some chords to the song I wrote on Thursday. It’s funny, I haven’t really written a song in years now. That was part of me that was switched off during the last thing. Don’t know why or how I do that thing where I switch parts of myself off. I think I’m done with relationships forever. Friendships only from here on out. It was really a strange sensation, because once I’d figured out the chords I played it once and it sounds exactly like a chee rabbits song. It was like finding a new single by someone you listened to years ago except it was coming out of the fingers, very strange sensation. I haven’t listened to chee rabbits in years.

When you open the windows in this apartment the birds are so loud and friendly, and the bells from the Church ring through the room. It’s great. There’s a rave about an hour away on the bus I could go to, should I? I already decided not to last night then again at 9a.m.. I guess if I record a demo voice memo of the song, and paint this picture, then I could go. The only other thing on my todo list for today is get to sleep before midnight.

When I looked at this number i was legit like “Hark!”

22333423

You know when you look at a sigil and you’re like “Hark” i mean got damn.

anyway,

Hark this: I’m better than I’ve ever been. If you were worried: thank-you; but, that’s over now.

i recorded a voice memo for myself on ketamine and there are some parts which are sooo funny

one of them is this instruction/observation/ piece of advice:

you go out to the edge where nobody has been and you take out your pen, you open your mouth, and you’re honest, and you capture that and you bring it home

and there’s another part where i say “i’m the tetranomicon”

and another part where i say “wow, is that me? poor little thing…” then my voice gets tight and panicked and i say “wope, i don’t wanna go down there” and then i say “zip zip”

  • Continued to be full of mucus for most of the week
  • Went to an art night at a squat on Wednesday, let someone use my hand as a brush
    • walked with them to the bus, and got the bus, and stood around in the cold
    • it was nice
  • On Friday night i tried to fix my sleep schedule (which was beat up by covid)
    • i went to bed at 9p.m.
    • i woke up at 2a.m. on Saturday and couldn’t get back to sleep
    • eventually at around 6a.m. i gave in and i made some spaghetti 🍝 with cream cheese and bacon
  • On Saturday I went to see The Matrix with Christabel. I enjoyed the movie. Christabel did not.
    • there was no price paid, so it does not resolve well. kind of feels like the first half or first third of something.
  • Afterwards we went to a Wetherspoon’s (The King’s Tun)
  • If a friend needs 3 no-strings-attached utility hickeys to prove to the people at work they live an interesting life, it’s perfectly normal to just give them 3 no-strings-attached hickeys there in the pub as a friend and then to feel normal about it
  • While I was there, I was invited to a birthday party
    • They didn’t have any vegan birthday cake so I got some from Waitrose, and some candles from a corner shop and travelled with it on public transport from Kingston to Tottenham
  • I forgot to download any music before the journey, so I listened to 1 song on repeat
  • One day recently i had some social anxiety and a voice told me “hey: nobody knows why you’re doing what you’re doing” and it’s unlocked some kind of super-power and i haven’t had social anxiety since.
    • let me see if i can explain it in a way where you don’t need to be inside my head: you ever find yourself doing something that you know looks insane, but you have a reason to be doing it so you don’t feel weird about it?
      • like you are doing it for a joke, or a favour?
      • or maybe you’re buying a HUGE amount of yoghurt, but you’re going to a yoghurt party and normally you’d be like “wow that’s too much yoghurt to buy”, but now you’re like “hey i’m going to a yoghurt party”
      • yeah well basically nobody knows you’re NOT going to a yoghurt party
        • nobody ever knows that whatever you’re doing that you’re not going to a party for that.
    • well, anyway, dancing alone on the underground
  • I spent all night at the birthday party until 7a.m. playing boardgames
    • I got a taxi home
    • I slept all day
    • My sleep schedule is still in disrepair, but hopefully salvageable
  • it’s PITCH BLACK in there. you can’t see ANYTHING.

listening to digicore

I spent most of the week having coronavirus. Yesterday I got a negative lateral flow test so I will be allowed to go outside a week from now. I’m still so tired and full of mucus. I can feel it, so sticky and heavy in my lungs and nose and throat. It feels like it’s everywhere. except my belly which contains curry.

I’m still trying to figure out how to make music, but it may involve more cassette tapes and diving back into the electronic music I made for biiiy on slsk in 2006.

Christabel came to my door and left a care package of oranges and limes and painkillers when I couldn’t go outside. I cried.

I cried a lot this week. Hormones all over the place from COVID. Maybe it’s not covid. Maybe it’s not hormones. Did you know that there are baseball teams that have real life dogs as their mascots? There’s a baseball team that was voted best stadium experience in South Carolina because after they hit a home run, the labrador does a lap around all the bases. Everybody cheers. Doggy is so popular but doggy doesn’t know. One time when one of them retired it was driven around the stadium in a little powered kart and everyone in the stands cheered and clapped for it. doggy doesn’t know

I got a new musical instrument, it’s an Arturia Microfreak. It is very pretty and makes strange and wonderful noises.

Last week I wrote properly for the first time in nearly a decade, hoping I can do more of that.

Sometimes people who appear to be giving you advice are lying to themselves, telling you something they wish was true about themselves

I installed Twitter for a few days. But then I pressed “Show more replies” and had to delete it again.

I’m lonely, but less lonely being alone than the last time I was locked down with someone who’d stopped loving me a year ago.

I got this lovely 2022 moon calendar https://www.etsy.com/ca/listing/1141728967/2022-moon-phase-calendar-green. I recommend that you get one as well.

yeah, I guess not much happened this week because I spent most of it lying on my sofa watching videos on my phone. I need some oxygen.

I’m reading about the theft of the Irish crown jewels.

the wikipedia article says “it was never solved”

but it also says

● The jewels were transferred to a new safe
● Sir Arthur Vicars, the Ulster King of Arms, had it placed in his library.
● two keys to the safe containing the regalia were both in the custody of Vicars.
● Vicars was known to get drunk on overnight duty and he once awoke to find the jewels around his neck.

wikipedia

now, I’m no jewel detective:

but

has anyone looked into this Vicars fella

what happens when two stars collide? it depends. slow stars they become one bigger, brighter star; fast stars they destroy each other leaving shards across the sky

this was a long and fucked and beautiful and sad and hard and exciting and big week, i’ll try to do it bit by bit.

when i left you last, i had just been let down gently by a tinder date and was laughing my legs off in the bath with 2 bottles of corona and a litre of patrón. i spent two hours in that bath, splashing around and sending voice notes to my closest compatriots and trying to figure out what to do next.

there was an xmas party that had started 8p.m. the night before, and the reels rolling into the telegram made it clear it wasn’t ending any time soon. i threw together a quick rave kit (hip flask of tequila, swiss army knife, tajin, limes, hand sanitizer, masks, cigarettes (in their little clip-close red case) , 6 lighters, pear-scented anti-perspirant and some cash) and jumped into a cab and had a conversation about socialism with my driver. it was going fine until at one point he said “DID YOU KNOW NOBODY JEWISH WHO WORKED AT THE TWIN TOWERS WENT TO WORK ON NINE ELEVEN” and i had to launch into a tirade explaining that his antisemetic conspiracy theories were absolute horseshit, that the richest people in the world are NOT jewish and that obviously george bush did 9/11. it was sad because until he turned out to be an absolute cunt he seemed like a lovely man.

i got to the party late, they were playing hi-tech to try and scrape people off the walls and back into the middle of the floor. a couple of beautiful people i’ve met before said hello to me for 5 seconds before disappearing behind a veil for the rest of the evening. eventually i found T, who i always find, he’d been working the night before and had come straight from the job to the party and was feeling like he was going to fade out. i sat down in the middle of the “snow”-covered dance floor and made myself a margarita. B text telling me he was on a coach coming back from his hometown and was gonna be home in a couple hours, so T and me went to their place to pick up B and go on to a “house party” which turned out to be a hot couch and 6 men listening to grime. T didn’t want to stay and neither did I, so we hopped in a car and went to one of those clubs that photocopies your passport and takes a deep photo of your face before letting you in and stays open til 6.

it was great in there. there was techno. i even danced a bit. had some nice chats. one guy came up to tell me i looked like the coolest person he’d ever seen, but that he also wanted to let me know that i did not look like a girl and he would never tell me that he thought i looked like a girl. i think this was meant to endear me to him. it did not. when that club closed, i gave the bartender my tajin because she’d taken several tequila shots with me and she followed me on instagram and i will likely never speak to her again. outside i met some nice irish fellas who made me feel at home and deeply misgendered and then they left and i was alone. i found an African man and an Italian man who introduced themselves that way to me, offered me balloons, and we walked through the streets of the city until the sun started to come up. we all agreed to take a train somewhere, and when the doors opened i let them step on and waved them farewell and stepped away.

i had a dinner party to attend. i felt guilty about turning up to Christabel’s house entirely unslept and smelling like rags that had each been soaked overnight in different nut milks, but i’d feel more guilty about not going. i’d made a promise to come, i made no promises about how i’d look or smell. i touched base at home to get more tequila and limes (though i foolishly forgot to pack more tajin, which i would be thoroughly (deservedly) scolded for later by an incredibly sweet girl). i headed to the local sommeliers to ask them the best table bottle to bring for the table when you’ve disappointed somebody. they brought me to the latin american wine section and picked out a bottle i’ve bought for myself about once a week since i moved to this neighbourhood.

i took a train to the dinner party. this part is a little boring but it took me about 3 hours to get there because shortly after every single fan of the game Football got on the train, it was stalled.
it was so hot. children were collapsing
“a little girl has fallen, does anyone have any water?”
at one point the driver seemed to try to start a riot, announcing “We could have been on the move, but some passenger has pulled the red cord in the toilet so now i have to send my man down there.” i begged the people in my section not to turn on each other. eventually the train moved and all the men on the train said “ooraurghhhyyy!!” in that celebratory tone english men save for when a stalled train starts moving or somebody drops a plate (mazel tov) or something happens that they find themselves sincerely grateful for but being unable to express a sincere feeling they make a noise that is somehow a mockery of itself, but there is an understanding sub rosa that it’s real? sorry, i don’t have the eloquence at this time to try to dissect something so nuanced and i’m embarrassed i even tried. hopefully my editor will remove this entire paragraph about the train because while it’s important to me, it doesn’t help the story and it really doesn’t belong here.

when i got out of the train, i hopped in a cab and had a long talk about socialism with my driver.

christabel’s party was wonderful and i was so glad that i went. each person there was beautiful and sweet and funny, and i accidentally talked too much because i was excited to know them, but it was a wonderful time. I gifted Christabel the felt moth hat replacing the one she was wearing when i met her a temporally inexplicable 1 month earlier. it was stolen 2 days after we met.

she gave me a hand stitched Earth 2 themed gift that says “whore of loneliness”, which sits beside me now as i type this having instantly become one of my most cherished possessions. she also gave me a hardback biography of the earlier years of sylvia plath which i’ve been reading in the street under the dim light cast by the stone works facility responsible for repairing the facade of my local church.

… i’m not sure i have what i need in order to write the dinner party like it should be. but in some ways maybe it will work that my energy for writing about the week is running down as the energy for living it did too

  • we played the board game therapy, christabel and i shared a piece because we are only one person
  • z was calm and collected and won and left
  • m and j and s and d were very funny and enjoyable to be around and their energies, everyone’s, wove a wonderful web
  • when i mentioned my little tequila kit dani’s eyes lit up and she was like “are you saying you have TAJIN NOW???” and i had to say no, because i’d given it to the bar person, and it’s a mistake i’ll never fully be able to move on from. do you know how many parties i’ve gone to where i’ve excitedly told somebody i have tajin and they’ve said “what is tajin?” and now here is somebody asking for tajin and i can’t deliver. i’ve learnt my lesson and will now be carrying two 10g bottles at all times and a sachet in my notebook
  • i wish i had the energy to write this night right but, i can’t nail it right now. it was a lovely evening and a shining light in a dusk foggy week

christabel asked if i’d like to stay over and then watch the matrix tomorrow. when everybody left, i stayed and wrapped all the left-over food in tinfoil and put it in the refrigerator then i brought christabel a glass of water and fetched myself a lime and turned off my phone. christabel, fast asleep, was emitting gentle grendler noises and reached out for my hand and i sat on the sofa beside her holding her paw for 2 hours and feeling the kind of peace a sulphurous rock must feel as is it slowly eroded by the fresh water of a natural spring. when she awoke we retired to her room and spent 12 hours in asexual embrace, then she woke up and threw up and we watched a few episodes of her favourite television programme and i offered her a banana and she said no thank you and i left.

i went home and i contacted a man i didn’t know and spent the two days in a cosmic space adjacent to this one. i don’t know if i slept, i don’t know much other than i sharpened a kitchen knife and drew a line on my arm. on the evening of the 28th, i gained a lot of perspective. i looked at myself from the outside and saw somebody fat, somebody ugly, somebody with no reason to live. i really thought i was going to die that night. and i realized i had nobody that i could call, i’ve isolated myself in such a way that i have no best friend and no friends at all who i do not have at least one wall of jokes or responsibilities or something such that i could call them when i’m not sure i’m going to make it through the night and just talk. so i went into a k-hole for the next 6 hours and when i came out i found i’d sent a text message to Christabel that said “I want to be your best friend.”

***

i looked through the list of new years eve plans i had, and none of them appealed. i text an old and dear friend i used to work with, and asked her what she was doing. she invited me to a party which i was too tired, too lost, too wintered to be attend. i jumped in a cab and had a long and fruitful discussion about socialism with my driver. at the party, i met a beautiful and sweet person who is writing a PhD about the theatre of the late soviet union, and they hugged me and told me “you are gorgeous and i need you to know” and later i laid my sarape table runner down on the grass so that we could lie together without their outfit getting wet. before they left they asked for my instagram. i will probably never see them again.

after that i went to a warehouse rave to see dear P and B and D. it was nice, quite empty, but had a strange dark energy i wasn’t used to. i tried to ignore it. i had a nice chat with P, and I saw dear Ñ again who was so happy to see me and it’s so nice when somebody new seems to like you as much as you like them. when the rave was over i had a nap upstairs and around £2000 of equipment was stolen from my backpack. My OP-1, my OP-Z, my frekvens speaker, my RK-006, my digital camera, and my po-33 K.O.!. i almost feel bad for the thief because the karmic weight of what they have done will crush them. i’ve been looking for a new sound, and i hope that perhaps this massive loss of my only real creative outlet will force it out of me.

i will read this book about Sylvia, i will get new inserts for my notebook, and i will sit with an acoustic guitar and a piano and a pen and try to behave as though a decade was reset but i’m a girl now.

happy new year, darlings.

lol hey

  • had a good week, went to Hampstead Heath
  • went on a date where the person left halfway through and then text me to tell me they weren’t coming back
  • having a hard time reconciling the fact I’m so funny and cute with the fact nobody wants to date me, something’s gotta give
  • got let down gentle this morning. turns out, and you’re not going to believe this: it’s not me, it’s them!
  • looking forward to drinking a litre of tequila and two Corona extras in the bath
  • I redyed my hair last night and my hands and face have been dyed completely pink
  • I have a new lease on life after being cyberbullied in real life by the magnetic forces of the universe repeatedly for the last couple of weeks
  • I’m in the bath now writing this using dictation new line
  • on a Sunday there are two things that I do, one of which is write this blog post and the other is make a piece of music that I put in a folder labelled quote Sundays unquote
  • Sinclair 11 punctuation dictated and what Canton I guess I need to stop using this it cannot understand my accent
  • I made flautas yesterday
  • my neighbour’s boyfriend left me a Christmas card and a box of chocolates. I chatted to him in the hall the next day and I didn’t thank him for the card and chocolates, and when I went back into my flat the curb theme started playing in my skull bones
  • a cute fat fetishist from Kazakhstan is now messaging me on a dating app, so not all hope is lost. I can always go to Kazakhstan and be used for my body.