Gladstone Dainty

Aye so I'm writing this back in the land o' the Interweb booth. The pliss is deserted. All I can hear are the sounds of forced revelry frae the groghoose next door. An old 'hoofer' probably called 'Jack Daw' is belting out 'Hey Jude'. That fuckin' song. He's going down a storm but of course the grog is probably going doon better. He's only the side show. Hey man, maybe that's my vocation in life ie to be a pub singer. Oh the potential for pathos and associated mullarkey that would bring my way. I ayways quite liked the nervous ones who would carry on regardless in the journeyman style while awbody talked over them. Attributing 'dignity' to any 'entertainers' or classic rock obsessives feels amiss of me but I can dig when a person keeps a stiff upper lip while being assaulted by the noise made by someone else's big moment/experience/night out etc. I believe that most showy pub rockers should be taken away and...'destroyed'. Crowd pleasing schtick and pissed up singalongs are no what dreams are made o' in ma book so propagators should not be tolerated. How can you trust Peat Loaf and his ilk? A' thae care about is making sure their backing tapes are working and that their trusses are correctly positioned. It's not rock and roll nor is it the sound of the underground. It's the sound of the Brian Rogers Connection and Summer Starlight Special. No ma scene. The ruffled man surviving against the oppressor?..now that's a bit mair like it... well, Thursday didnae hae much goin on or at least it felt like that. I s'pose I'm accustomed to having this ache and aura of TLK present underneath my daily living and my daily thinking. She's ayways there. It feels like a mountainous task to drag masel away from her and get back to the stuff I'm supposed to be thinking about. Had an interview wi' an agency in the mornin'. The head of the agency used tae work at ma pliss. TLK had spoken about her a few times. Therefore all I thought about was her. "So, McLuckie, what experience do you think you have for the job?" " Well, the thing I like most about TLK is her complexion (true)" "I'm sorry? etc etc ". I've always wanted to be Billy Gaunt or Charlie Hawtrey you know. I'm sure the standard o' ma 'writing' makes that clear. Anyway, aye it was hard to keep on an even keel. The guy who did the interview seemed a good bloke. I 'got the job' so it's a case of getting ma disclosure form in and then I can start doing shifts after that. I so need to do this financially tho' I know I'll have to force masel into working on ma days off. What? Do you mean I can't waste time anymore?...shit...It soon dawned on me looking at the Disclosure form that somewhere in the shithole I appear to have lost all ma relevant documentation...my passport disappeared after the last time I used it, my birth certificate is probably in the storage space in Granton (bill now standing at £550 and counting) and my last Disclosure form should be in the shithole but seems to be hiding. I've known all this for a while but have totally lacked the motivation to look into replacing them. Yet more slackness in the blackness. So of course that should have triggered a flurry of activity on Thur but it didn't. My energy levels when it came to doing this appeared to have reached Mr. Burns level at best. Plenty of wan ennui (they used that phrase ad nauseam in the NME in the late 80's. It cut such a swathe through ma vocab and my 'means of expression'. How exotic it sounded, particularly if ye came frae Kirkcaldy rather than Kentish Town. Ma mind has cut off any possibility that ma first contact wi' this phrase might have come from an article re how seminal Blue Rondo A La Turk were) and a number of leaden palls to boot. Work was brisk tho'. A fair bit goin on. Nae TLK 'til next week but I spoke wi' KS for a wee while. Not sure why but I got the impression TLK had been talking to her re ma sulk on Tue. No concrete evidence but just picked up a possible vibe in the way she phrased a few things. No sure why I should think that but I do. KS was still great tho' and seemed concerned in some intangible way..it probably was just me wishing that TLK might have thought to talk or to think about 'me'. Shit, I feel a tad shredded by all this. Finished the work day wi' yet another good old client emergency. This one was shorter on bodily fluids than some of the recent ones but made up for it in terms of 'wandering' and 'confusion'. This does gie the impression that it was me who suffered the emergency but surprisingly enough it wasn't. It dragged on for a while. Got back to The S-h quite late. Just in time to catch the SNP 'Party Political Broadcast', probably entitled 'How Thae English Bastards Stole Our Oil'. It has a voice over from 'Sir' Sean (my faither pronounces that as 'zeen') Connery which beggars belief. I ken he's been no weel but he sounds as if he's lost the power of speech on this evidence. The slurring and the Fountainbridgery is hiked up to the max. I did think it was maybe a spoof o' the ppb by John Culshaw or someone. It's quite an eerie listen. One o' ma clients has a 'delusional belief' re Sir Sean...but I won't share that with you...After that, for reasons best kent to masel I watched '9 Songs' a' the way through. It is better if you watch it from start to finish rather than flicking back and forward to access 'money shots' and avoid Black Rebel Motorcycle Club as I did before. I'm afraid I would still have to class it as 'a piece of crap'. That funny wee guy wi' the big willy really looks like Lee Evans doesn't he? Once you realise that then the fillim will lose any coherence/credibility/watchability as a matter of course. That's before you get to the presence of a host of indie shite, all tediously shot in 'audience vision'. Apparently old Walter shot hours and hours of material for this fillim but ended up wi' 66 minutes worth. Suffice to say I would have edited it down further ie straight down into the nearest skip. IMO it is THAT shit. What on earth was I doing watching it again?...fuck...aye...Friday started in a gloomy way. Dragged masel out of the pit (ie euphemism for bed rather than the bit near the stage at Nottingham Rock City) and headed for the lair of the debt counsellor. I'll never forget waiting outside the pliss for the doors to open. A queue had formed. It was freezing, gray, biting and my fellow queuees looked as if they'd had parts of themselves removed. They'd all had hard lives. I bet you a few of them knew all there was to ken aboot strangulated hernias and aboot bein' awfy bad wi' the jaundies. The appointment itself was strange. It was over in a flash. The lass was very good. All common sense and straight talking. She strongly recommended I go for the option of something called a 'protected trust deed' ie it's no quite bankruptcy but yer debts are written off and you pay £100 a month for 3 years to the guy who handles your deed. It sounds like the way to go. I need to provide further evidence o' ma multitude of accounts and cards and waste and a' that. I felt relieved in a way mainly because she had a great manner in terms of dealing with it and brought it all down to basics. I got a bit wobbly re the idea of being scutinised. I'm sure there will be mair elements of that to come. I suppose I'll just have to deal with it or I might go to the bridge instead. I headed straight frae the land of debt to see a client up in Morningside. On ma way up there I noticed a lass sitting in front of me on the bus. She was reading what were probably notes for an exam or 'an assignment'. They were beautifully written and laid out. Swirly ornate handwriting with no cross outs or blemishes. The pages were laid out in what looked like stanzas. They handsomely branched out over the page. The first one she opened had the heading 'Madness and Civilisation'. I wondered if maybe it was a poem after all. I hoped that it was. The next one had 'Discipline and Punish' at the top. This piqued my interest even further...and then she got off the bus. She was of the student age and vernacular. I had another huge sense of life passing me by, well of 'awhong' passing me by. I realised after a while that today's particular feeling was more of a bittersweet one than a despairing one. Not sure why. Maybe I should have watched a few more o' thae French fillims wi' Michel Piccoli where he spends all of the running time drooling ower wispy young lasses. Maybe then I would have been able to hike ma feelings up to seem somehow grander so I could gather that I had greater justification for being excited at a lass on a bus. I do tend to feel guilty at doin' that. If I was one o' the virill ones I would feel differently I know. As if I was allowed...somehow...anyway anyway...met the client and afterwards I was standing at the bus stop in the hail in Morningside when Alastair Darling walked down the road. It dawned on me that I'd seen Tam Dalyell at Waverley last week. I am 'hanging' wi' the world o' glib politicking. AD was wearing civvies and looked a bit worn doon. Nobody seemed to recognise him until a Beatrix Potter-y old lady pointed a finger after he went past. I thought she was about to chase after him and pick up from where she left off re next door's lelandii. I thought I was going to run after him too and tell him a few things he would never forget..but I didn't. I was too fat. I was worn down by an old cricket book I'd found in a 2nd hand book store up there. The shop certainly didn't play Dinosaur Jr or sell Saul Bellow and the workforce didn't appear to be 'super skinny' but they certainly were 'super unfriendly' and it didn't particularly 'make me happy', I can assure you. They looked like the type of curtain twitchers who run Neighbourhood Watch schemes country wide. It could well have been that their suspicion was raised by the fact I hadn't been seen at the local parish church. Now that did 'make me happy'. Maybe I could have slugged old Kevin Darling MP with the book....maybe...Aye work was grim today. Quiet for once. The work has a totally different vibe going down imo when TLK is off. Ma head goes heywire when she's there. It's like working at a different pliss when she's no. It seems on reflection that I've felt at certain times as if the sole interest for me in attending work is to see TLK....no shit?... That's certainly what it felt like today anyway. 'Tings seemed muddled tho' I did feel a wee bit o' the weight lifted after the debt thing. Had a rather entertaining 'That's Life' interlude in the PM. Was unpacking an order o' stationary in the office. Found a number of things we wouldn't have had any use for so I had a deek at the box. It said 'To: DLF Trifolium Ltd'. This is not the firm I work for. My mind ran wild on what a trifolium might be. I couldn't stop laughing. Maybe it was another sign of insanity or far more worryingly, of normality. I've never been able to ward off giggling at silly things like this. I had to phone the stationary suppliers and tell them what had happened. I literally could not stop laughing. The lass at the other end of the phone started laughing too. She sounded a good sort. I was half embarassed but more concerned with a land where the trifolium was king. Jeez...next I'll be giving you my hearttfelt admiration for the work of Doc Cox and Cyril Fletcher...sigh...Cannae mind what I did on Friday night. It probably involved 'pulling ma pud' as we would say in Fife. I think it involved watching 'Silent Running' tho' not to the extent I could comment 'fully' on all the hippyness therein. ....hell that wiz Friday. Was late for work on the Sat. It happens every time I have to do an early shift at the weekends. I cannae be geered. I ayways stumble in late. Start time was 9. I got in for 9.45 or thereabouts. A fairly steady day as weekends go. Nowt to report. The body fluids made a reappearance but I shan't dwell on them. Got finished early. Came here to the land of Stelios. 'Jack Daw' was still firing away. In a more contempoary bent this time. 'Common People', 'That's Entertainment', 'Rocket Man'. He was belting them out. The beerlings loved it. I wondered how many folk got laid as a result of being able to display how much of a laugh they were by believing the hype and singing along mid-slug and getting fully into the entertainment. That seems to be how you 'get a lumber'. It's definately one o' the reasons why I've never had one o' thae. Back at the S-h. More 'Silent Running'. Still didn't take it in so I moved onto 'Factotum'. I love this fillim. As you've maybe picked up so far I love Bukowski too. What a fuckin' cliche` I undoubtedly am. The first time I read 'Post Office' I was actually working for The Post Office at the time. I dug what he had to say. He seemed to know the score about getting through life. The lack of 'connection' with people. He was an observer of people too. He had a handle on how we tick. 'Ham On Rye', his novel about a horrid childhood, is ma favourite novel. It is a true heartbreaker. If you ever thought that your childhood doesn't go towards making you what you are then I would advise you to read this. I got so into the vibe of 'Factotum' the movie. It has a few things I would do differently but it tries hard to catch the atmosphere frae the books and it succeeds for the most part despite updating the 40's/50's setting to the present day. Lili Taylor plays Jan in it. Jan was a character based on Jane Cooney Baker, the love of Bukowski's life. She drank herself to death and he never got over it. The fact that Jan was played by Lili Taylor had added significance for me. TLK looks hellish like LT. I've seen some pics of Lili that quite simply are TLK. It's an uncanny vibe. TLK knew that I liked Lili. She maybe had an inkling that she looked like her too. I have a feeling I might have drunkenly said this to her once. Watching LT meant I thought of TLK's face. I know everything about that face. Elegant and scuffed at the same time. Open, honest, and prone to looking tired. The complexion thing. She has lived. She has been around. Her face speaks volumes about her life, about what she's seen. When I spoke to ISH the other night he told me that he liked how I'd referred to her 'kent face'. I don't think I ever have 'in print' but I'm going to do it now. As soon as I saw her for the first time her face was familiar to me. It got in there and stayed there. I'll never forget it nor will I forget her. Her eyes are dark and intense. They seem to get darker the more she talks to you, the more she relaxes and gets into a conversation. I would look at that face 24/7. I really would. TLK was also aware of Bukowski. The love of her life split up with her and to illustrate the point showed her the infamous pic of a grizzled Hank wi' a fucked looking young lush. They had been grogging it heavily for some time. He told her that they would end up like that if they stayed together. The more I saw LT in a tale of folk immersing themselves in grog, I couldn't stop thinking of the real TLK. Some of the situ's I'd had with her were like Bukowski moments and she has certainly been the love of my life even if it was totally unrequited. She told me of times and moments she had wi' the guy she actually loved and who loved her back. They could have been in Factotum. Maybe they were. I thought of her solidly all night. I wanted to drink. I wanted to drink with her. I wanted to be with her. I knew that at least 2 out of these 3 were never going to happen. I didn't know what to do. I ended up just trying to get some sleep. I was mighty relieved when it came. And as for Sunday...I had a lie in so I woke up wi' a headache. I had slept too long. I felt fat. I remembered that I had gorged non stop for the last 2 weeks at least. Shit man. Make it the last 2 years. I looked in the mirror at a sideways angle. The size and width of ma belly was incredible. It shocked me. I have to do something about it if I want to avoid 'health issues'. Maybe I don't want to avoid them? That may explain why I've just guzzled a milk shake and a chocolate brownie. Greed. Laziness. They're a' here. Earlier I met KB and his daughter P. Had a guid saunter roond. Maybe I am a 'people person' after all? I know I need to be with people. It could be there just arnae that many I like. I don't mean to bore you again but I might have to. On the way doon to meet the family KB I saw a familiar face. I was sure it was TLK's best pal, the one I freaked out somewhat not long after the fallin' oot we had on the day of DT's death. I was sure it was her but noticed the claes and the build weren't right. I then remembered that she had a twin who I've never met. Fucking hell. My heart about jumped out my chest when I saw her. Everything TLK makes me slip into meltdoon the now. Even seeing the sister of her best pal is too much! Everywhere I go 'over this ugly city' takes me into TLK country. There's a connection to her in every single place I go. Fuck, I hope this fades and withers and a' that. Maybe it will. Maybe I will first. Fucking Sundays....'Jack Daw' is at it again as I write this. The stamina of this man is quite something. The grog still flows too. Grog flows everywhere. I wish it was flowing inside me...