It is very rare that Brian and I synchronise on our spare time. Both of us work unpredictably and as constantly as we possibly can. We are both feeding an obsession. If we won the lottery we’d both make theatre and we know it. That’s how far down the rabbit hole we’ve fallen. But it’s nice down here. It’s warm and everyone else is a rabbit.
Today we synchronised. We had a simultaneous spare day. We woke up in the morning and contemplated a day of unstructured time. It’s the last one of those we are likely to have at the same time until next year. It was tidy-time. We both knew it. We both did it. No point in having three hoovers if they don’t get used occasionally. (None of them are Hoover branded. I don’t care. They suck.)
When you live with someone else it’s hard to throw things away unless the person is there. Permissions and ownership are a big thing in a world where possessions equate to power.
I dislike throwing other people’s crap away. I’d sooner tell them their thing is broken and let them do it. I’ve watched as two people I love have fallen out irrevocably over one of them throwing away a few slices of pizza. Their actual reasons for disliking one another were deep seated, and rooted in lifestyle, attitude, belief structure and basic worldview. Of course they wouldn’t get on. They’re brilliant opposites. But the pizza was the thing they fastened on, consciously or unconsciously, to crack those eggs and start fighting.
Brian and I can eat each other’s pizza without incurring rage, because our worldviews collide. But when there’s a lot of pizza to throw away, we’d prefer to have consensus. He knows I eat moldy food if it’s free and I am confident it won’t kill me. I assume he might be similar. So it’s useful we were together at last.
We filled a lot of bin bags. I fished out an unopened bottle of coconut water that was past its sell by date, and drank it as we worked. We jettisoned a lot. Half eaten jars of olives, instant decaf coffee, 75 toothbrushes, 6 year old couscous, Babylonian dental floss, green potato trees, hyperevolved talking garlic, hotel shampoo, conditioner that never gets used, anchovies that have sentient mold civilisations where humans are gods, open jars of curry paste and pesto. Dear regular reader, I even threw out a bottle of PALMER’S COCOA BUTTER BUY IT NOW NOW NOW. Yep. We were being draconian. Which reminds me. A month of blog adverts is complete. For what they call 16,923 “attempted impressions” I get the princely sum of $1.62. That’s in exchange for my readers and I getting spammed with mostly irrelevant adverts. Not worth it. Sorry I subjected you all to that experiment. It was worth a month to find out. I switched them off.
This evening I contemplated fire, steam and light. I went with friends old and new to a free thing involving some glorious creative fiery displays in Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, right by where the bike is being fixed up. All about fire and steam, heat and light, energy. It was a delightful reclamation for me of that patch of grass. We got some ridiculous photos.
When our desires don’t match we can hurt ourselves and each other. I got hurt ages ago in these same Pleasure Gardens for the simple reason that I had assumed that someone wanted what I wanted. Nice to go back to fire. The heart of much human hurt is misalignment. Bad timing. If only we could synchronise when it serves us.
Brian and I synchronised today and it was ace. Now the flat is tidy in time for us both to lose our spare time and – figuratively -for me to vanish up Scrooge’s asshole. Tonight was a joy. I need to catch as many glorious light-shows as I can now, because December is going to take my evenings for humbug. Hurrah! It’s important for us to throw things away both figuratively and literally…