Yay for northern cities!

Yet more weird dreams woke me up this morning. Still, they weren’t about anyone I work with, or indeed, anyone I am likely ever to see again. I hadn’t even had any cheese. This morning I saw the boy I’d dreamt about but he- like everyone at work- is keeping away from me because I sound like I have tuberculosis. The other day I was sneezing lots. Well, I was trying to sneeze and it would get right to that bit where you’re JUST about to sneeze and then… nothing. The pressure kept building up behind my eyeball and it was really uncomfortable. Now, I’m coughing like a bloody coal miner. I swear I have the poorest immune system in the world. I have had a cold for like five weeks now. It’s boring. When HN51 hits the country, I’m going to be the first to die, quite clearly. I’m probably entitled to a flue vaccination, like the old people. That’s how sickly I am nowadays.

I never used to get this sick. My ex was the one who got sick and I had to look after him. I remember once I was looking after him and he got really angry with me because I’d bought the wrong lucozade (he firmly belived that lucozade was as good as medicine, another crackpot idea he’d got from his family) so he threw it across the room. To make up we did some art on the walls (read: drew on the walls in black felt tip). When we moved out of that house we had to spend three days painting the walls to try and cover it up. We’d also made a huge hole in the wall (Shawshank-style) which we made a really poor job of sorting out. I will never live in Wood Green again.

Anyway, the main exciting news is that we are going to go to Manchester, or more specifically, Crewe. This will be great. I have never been to Crewe. I’ve only been to Manchester once and that was when I went to see my friend at Nottingham Uni and we got taken to Manchester to raise money for sick children/old people/poor folk/other worthwhile causes. I was in a very strange mood as I hadn’t really slept for two weeks except when I passed out while getting a massage. So I think going to Manchester again would be good. And this time I know there are trams, so I won’t be almost run over like ten times in one day. Yay for going places.

I went to the cinema last night with the irish guy. As always, I was late. We were meant to be seeing Syriana at the Ritzy, but there was a problem with the sound there, so we decided to see Capote instead, at the Clapham Picturehouse. I met him at the Ritzy, and he was proper fuming. I thought it was because I was late, but he said that there were too many cunts in the café. We had a nice discussion about how everyone is always one degree of cunt. I take such pleasure in saying that word, mainly because my mum slaps me round the head when I say it… how teenage, I know. Anyway, we went to Clapham and got some food and he told me about his plan to instigate a war between Clapham and Brixton. Herne Hill would be like the Switzerland of World War 2 and would just rake in the money. He suggested the best way to cripple Clapham would be to cut off its supply of organic vegetables, but I pointed out that they’d pull a Berlin Airlift style stunt. Anyway, it was fun, and I kept laughing in the cinema because he asked me stupid things like if he could sit on my knee.

The film itself was very good. I was hooked. The only thing that spoilt it a bit for me- or at least distracted me a hell of a lot- was that Capote sounded like Eric Cartman. And I kept expecting him to say, “well dude, we just don’t know”, thanks to my obsessive watching of The Big Lewbowski. Other than that… it was fucking good, and afterwards we sat in the dark staring at the screen. What an absolutely awful man, but in such a sad way, as he was clearly so deluded. The small amount of compassion he showed was too little, too late, not to mention only serving an ulterior motive. Philip Seymour Hoffman definitely deserved his Oscar. I’d totally recommend the film, and I’m really glad I went.

OH MY GOD!! Completely surreal experience just happened! The girl on the switchboard just said to me, “oh, I just got a call from G, the guy who used to work across the corridor from here”. I was like, “What? The beautiful boy?” She laughed at me and said that he was calling from Australia. I can’t believe she didn’t put him through to me. That sucks. Still, at least I know he’s okay and didn’t die of malaria or anything.