Home for a night. Birch is a little more peaceful after the opening weekend. We are experimenting with keeping the curtains open but with no Panda. Panda can’t keep an eye on security anyway. All he can do is bait people. That genuinely seems to be the game we have here. Next week I think I’m gonna experiment with completely switching out my desire to please. Up until now I’ve been informing people that things aren’t for sale very quickly. I think there might be some mileage in letting them really set their hearts on something but then absolutely refusing to let them have it. Likely it’ll be making work for myself. But I like that kind of work.
I got home to find that Frank has sorted loads of my shit out. He’s living rent free because I want him to have the freedom, and he has responded by adding value and doing shit that I’ve never done. There’s a lot in which the ball is now in my court regarding my clutter. I need to do a trip to the dump. Or two. It has started to feel possible.
I’m bedding in. There’s a mattress on my living room floor. Sam was getting rid of it and I knew it would be useful once I got my shit together. It’s a good one and I’m glad if it. I’ll sleep well. Just one night at home. Back to Birch next week.
I’ve just had a great chat with Frank, and before that a great evening with Emma. Varied friends help build perspective. I’m absolutely thrilled that, in this time where I knew I would barely be at home, I’ve found someone respectful who needs a home. My flat is safe while I’m away annoying women of a certain age who seem to want to tell me that I’m not a Panda. Why have all the aggressors been women about ten years older than me? Maybe just coincidence. Hopefully next week I’ll get beaten up by some guy in his twenties. Panda-Fight. If we film it well it’ll go viral.
AlBarclay 