Ticking over

Back to my own story. Here in this strange flat, I’m looking at all the possibilities. The Factory are shifting again, so that’s the shot of an interesting project in the gaps. Meanwhile I’ve got boxes of crap to sort through. I’m getting better and better at it. Mostly it involves being able to throw things away forever. My struggle with the certainty of the forever-chuck is aligned with all my other struggles. I like it best when every possible eventuality is accessible. I like the wide angle. If something is destroyed, all its potential is destroyed too. I’m always curious about the potential of things.

My school reports would usually talk about potential, but would always tell my parents that the reason I wasn’t living up to that potential was that I wasn’t obedient. “He’s very clever but be doesn’t do the assignments correctly even though I know he can.” There’s no way of building to a disobedient gobshite like I was. Bojo went to one of my schools. They are expensive and so they let people express themselves. It troubles me that I’ve found freedom and kindness but my frame is the same as someone who did so much damage to us all but found similar freedom in that strange small private school. Ashdown House. And now they want to turn it into bollocks flats whereas actually there’s the chance of an incredible piece of land right in the middle of Forest Row which is RICH HIPPY CENTRAL UK. The ground of that school is ancient and powerful. Forest Row is literally the place where most of the rich wellness idiots who fell into QAnon – that’s where they live. They could buy the old school and turn it into an ashram or somesuch. Whoever has been allowed to make the pitch for the land use is clearly clueless and they are gonna turn some beautiful old buildings into turds. The chapel… The main house… I’m also very worried about the Wellingtonias. I dragged Lou to see the trees when I heard they might be going. Some of you might remember my trip to find the tallest tree in the world. My love of redwoods was catalysed by the redwoods in my school grounds. If they chop them down I’ll be so sad…

Somewhere in the foundations of the theatre there’s my attempt at a time capsule. From memory it’s a bic biro with a rolled up piece of paper in it with a bit of my blood and something like “I wish to be a successful actor!!” The theatre was finished just after I left. I snuck down and left the biro one night when we were playing dormitory truth or dare and someone dared me to write something on one of the boards in a classroom. I served my own agenda to hide my shit time capsule. I remember it well. It was an early commitment, but one of the many things I’ve done over the decades to know that I’ll never quit no matter what and despite not being WOWSEXY.

Blah. I want to go to sleep. Today I spoke to a surveyor who told me they didn’t give a fuck about my leak.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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