Swimming through dark water, a change of orientation, fearlessness. Climbing out I can see how deep and dark it is. It frightens me. Two of us on the surface, the water like black plastic sheeting, things moving underneath. A bubble rises. I lift the sheet and a decomposing corpse is underneath. We rush to escape.
I am wandering, drunk. I lose my wallet, then find it, empty. I am in hospital. A friend has tried to kill themselves. I hug them and cry, they don’t realise I’m crying for myself, my own immanent suicide. As I leave someone asks me to recommend a news source, I think Reddit but say GoogleNews. They are trying to remove paper products. I am asked to help an older woman open a file on an old beige mac. She doesn’t understand the difference between a paper file and a digital file. Halfway through I leave, I have to see the police about my wallet then get help for my suicidal thoughts. I exit a park gate and I am lost. I look at my compass. The needle is curved. North and South are in the same direction. I exclaim that this cannot be so. A trio of passing Irishmen say it is so, and that they are happy enough just to have some sunlight these days. One of them asks me to write a history book, claiming that a current author is distracted by satan. I’m not sure what to say. They have a whip round and give me about six quid, they don’t know I’ve lost my wallet, it is pure generosity. One says I should rely on god more to provide for my needs.
I’m at a table with friends from work and lots of Indian guys who are planning an epic tv series based in Indian nightclubs. They are very organised. I moan that non of the creative people I know are.
I am I Teignmouth, I am renting the Wok Room from Chris. I plan to live in it, if its not too noisy. I look out side and see the sea breaching the sea wall, the road is flooded. Cars try to get through the deep water. I film it on my iPhone. My scarf gets in the way.