Scatty summary with Scots and Snow

It's just 2 days until I go home, and there is snow on the ground. My dad wrote me a text telling me to wrap up warm and an email to tell me he will collect me from the airport if I like. I think I would rather have him collect me than Dani because I am tired of how disorganised Dani is. I haven't heard from him since he was cut off, and I don't know what to do. I have organised somewhere for myself to stay because I couldn't be arsed to keep asking him. I received an email from Catherine saying she had met my cute Russian who is apparently a writer and off to Argentina but I have no bog who she is referring to. But he sounds nice - hehehe.

On Friday evening I ostensibly went Christmas shopping, with every intention of buying presents for my family. I bought a white jumper for a fiver and a red skirt for myself. Shockin´ behaviour. On Saturday I marched into the supermarket and bought an armload of turron and chocolate to bring home. I also bought myself a coat. I just got paid, you see and well I got a bit more than I expected and it was a frockcoat of which I have wanted one for nigh on 6 years now. The only trouble is that it is exactly the same colour green as the other coat I have. I asked the man in the shop if he had any other colour, even black, but no. I love green, and I wear a lot of green but the two coats are really exactly the same colour. I can hear my mam now: WHAT? You spend a hundred quid on exactly the same coat? Are you MAD?!

Friday night was the night I went to see the comedy in some theatre or other. I went first up to Darren´s house where we spent an hour and a half browsing Google Earth. I marked some of my houses and then went for a fly over Siberia and even managed to find my way around Pennsylvania and Washington DC which I have never even been in! I also went nuclear power plant hunting in Cumbria but I couldn´t find Sellafield on this occasion. I was so busy flying over toxic mud pools that before I knew it we had 5 minutes before leaving and I had to finish a half bottle of wine and a G&T. Well I did. We arrived at the theatre and went upstairs where I found a mostly English speaking audience and several people that I knew including a Welshman called Owen and his girlfriend Celine who are friends of Audrey´s, and some dude called Simon from New Zealand as well as some dude called Joel from London. If Londoners can be called dudes. In anycase I was hyper as hell and fell on my arse next to some Irish guy who told me later that I did so very elegantly(even though my howling with laughter probably drew attention to me). Of course no-one I know saw it so I had to tell them all. In any case, it was not long til I was hammered, aided no doubt by the magic pipe of young Simon. The comedy night was reasonably good until the audience suddenly became much drunker than me, and started heckling one of the comedians. I mean really booing. And it was just they were too mean and drunk to get his slightly clever stories. He dealt well with it, but the result was that the main act (or maybe he was the main act) refused to play, and the only shit element of the night which was a "comic" blues band type cheesy caberet affair took over for the night. No thanks. We left. Then somehow I found myself in Apollo which I swear I have never been to before, but I knew it. With Johnny the Scotsman in tow.

I dunno if I told you about Johnny, but basically he is a needy man I met in a bar on one of those unfortunate nights when people are paired equally in both sexes. And when your friend goes off with one, well then obviously whoever you are stuck with thinks you must be left over for him. Nice, eh? Anyway, on that particular occasion I got so pissed off I just went home and left them all rather than go dance. So on Friday suddenly I find myself with this besuited white runner wearing Scot wavering from side to side, launching dangerously my way, and I suddenly felt depressed again. I didn´t remember too well what happened next but Darren told me he came back from the toilet to see me standing at the stairs downcast and mumbling something about not being able to take it anymore (my catchphrase). He said:"Do you want to ditch him?" Horrible as those words were, I felt incredibly relieved and we went downstairs to dance to some bloody techo shit. But it was already too late and I stood there and cried for ages, but it was dark and no-one could see, and it was the kind of tears that just fall and no sound comes out.

On Saturday I went to a birthday party out in Verdaguer. Everyone there nearly works for the same company as I do. The girl who´s birthday it was was really lovely and had organised food and cava for the night. I was trying to have manners and not drink the cava as I didn´t really belong at the birthday party, but then when the food appeared I dropped all my worries and tucked in. I walked home that night of feet of glass.

On Sunday I woke as per usual with the cat wrapped around my neck. I can´t wear pyjamas despite the current cold, as the cat is like a fecking hotwater bottle. It´s great. Anyway, I went for a rehearsal with a sick Darren and a what appeared to be drunk Gordon. Speaking of which, what is the craic with the whole drinking culture thing? I enjoy my beer too, but this need to drink a litre of gin first thing in the morning leaves me perturbed. Dani is like this also, with the additional bonus that he wants me to drink if he is drinking. God I just realised I´m a whinging aul biddy! In anyways, we went through some of the songs and they are sounding really great! I am so pleased! I hope that we will be able to get a gig together in January but that might be jumping the gun a wee bit and I would like to do it properly this time.

It's just 2 days until I go home, and there is snow on the ground.

Sleeping with my Pussy

Today, without thinking, I chose as song of the day "Loser" by Beck. Already I am reaping the rewards. I am sat on my own amongst the Italians, only none of them seem to be in today. My workmates are all round the corner. My manager brought in a Christmas calendar with everyone´s name on one day EXCEPT ME! What am I supposed to do? I don´t like looking for my name cos it is arrogant but I did so there and I discovered I am not there and now she is off to Germany for Christmas and I feel left out and abandoned. I also left my lunch at home, I don´t know how to fill in my extra hours sheet, my cat ate my shoes(no, really), my mam is going away for Christmas and I am working all Christmas and New Year, and I forgot my PIN for my bank.

Hmm.Yes, that is about the size of it.

On the plus side, Dani finally called. Ok, so I had to ring his surrogate mother minder type figure to get his number. I got a message from her saying "Dani´s phone is ....broken. Yes, broken. I will get him to call you when he drops in during the week cos he´s out with his friends". Honestly, is he six years old? Anyway, he did call, and offered to come pick me up. Wally. Luckily I was intoxicated and made him laugh lots and he promised to call last night. I didn´t believe him and went on a 2.50 per cocktail bender and GASP! he called me! For ten seconds! "I just got a new chip and I don´t have much credit but I´ll call you tomorrow for a good chat. How are..." Oh well. At least he called like he said he would. Now I can scrape my pride off the floor and go out gallivanting in peace.

The shame of it all is that I was pleased he called. Nathalie has been doing the usual hopping in and out of bed tricks that she can do, and we were discussing it last night (as well as her monologue on the size of various people´s assets which I really wasn´t interested in). She knows she is potentially destroying her relationship with Mauro, but she has decided that she wants more attention, and is getting it. Perhaps she has the right idea. Nina is locked in a six year relationship with a man she loves but doesn´t want to have sex with anymore cos he bores her. Should she look outside? She is trying to convince her boyfriend (also called Mauro) that this is the way of the future. And me? I am in a half-arsed relationship with a nice guy who I do not know who is going to share Christmas with me I think but I don´t even know for sure, when frankly, I am still in love with an ex-boyfriend who dumped me unceremoniously years ago. I don´t know how I am still in love, but I am and there´s no point feeling sorry for myself about it. In any case, I have no intention of carrying on with a long distance relationship especially not if i have to be the mother-figure. I have done the waiting game, I have done insecure, and I refuse to waste time on that anymore.

The other day I trying to find my way to the pub (as I do pretty much every night) when a striking young man greeted my friendlyly, if there is such a word which there isn´t but there is now. I hied back and he asked where I was going and if he could join me. In my coolest fashion I froze in shock, told him I was searching for 5 cents (which I was cos I had to phone someone) and then took off at lightening speed.

In this cold weather am I the only loser sleeping on my own with a feckin cat that doesn´t even belong to me?

There is No Silence

Last night I slept 2 and a half hours. 4 hours the night before. A familiar moan I know, and one I make often. But if you saw how many times I have had to type these last sentences you would understand. I am wrecked tired. And I cannot function normally.

The upside is that I feel like I am wrapped in cottonwool and everything is cosy and distant. The downside is that the cottonwool is made of icicles and I am hazily aware of my body. The downside is I say what I think. The downside is that I want everyone to go away and stop making noise.

I have a photographic memory and I have often wondered why the hell I bother making music when I am obviously ocularly inclined. I have come to the conclusion that it is because I cannot remember sounds that I compose, and that the only time I find silence is within music. Corny as it sounds, when I sing is the one time I don´t have to listen. I find a place where there is peace and I am not in myself anymore. I just feel what I feel and I can see many many things without needing explanations. I am.

Tacked onto my tiredness is a strange feeling of poise, a mixture I suspect of being in water for 4 hours the other day and knowing finally that I am alone. I had a strange day on Monday where I felt upset by everything and I desperately wanted to be on my own. But I was working, and then when shift change came about I snapped. I can´t stand so many people swarming around me and talking in all my ears and I feel like they are invading every orifice and I crack sometimes. Usually I run outside to catch air, but in Barcelona outside is Placa Catalunya, too many people. Sometimes I run to the toilets, but in Barcelona the toilets are barely plural and normally have several Italians chatting inside. Occasionally I cover my ears and my eyes and hide under my table but I couldn´t move my chair because there were people behind me. Luckily I was not near the window as I would have broken it and jumped out. So all I can do is try but invariably I upset somebody. And although I apologise later, I feel like I was justified, that is the nasty part of my character coming out.
After work I was supposed to go to check out the gym with Audrey. I just wanted to run away but I fought it and told her I couldn´t go. She knew but all I could explain was the usual refrain "I just can´t do this anymore". But she waited and I made myself go and I did a yoga class at the end of which we lay with our eyes closed listening to synthetic music filling our pores and I just burst into tears again, but silently this time, and I had enough. I went for a swim and a jacuzzi and four hours later I was able to talk again.

I have not heard from Dani and I am not worried. Am I stupid? Should I be worried? If he is with someone else I just wish he´d told me first. If not, I am annoyed that he has not made an effort to contact me. But then he is no stupid boy, despite people assuming he is boylike because of his sunny disposition. He probably knows I am cooling off and doesn´t know what to do about it. Or maybe he doesn´t care. Or maybe he is with someone else, in which case am I stupid not to worry? I think not. I am alone and I like it. I never thought I would say that. But I suppose liking it is relative. You can exhale now, for that was the short confessional.

Oh and There is no silence is already a copyrighted song of mine, in case any of you were wondering.

Prawn shop pop

Fake plastic snowflakes hang between buildings in preperation for Christmas. The markets are candle-lit and it doesn´t truly get light at any time of the day now. The streets are packed with brightly coloured bescarfed and bag-laden couples, and chestnut sellers line the streets(and their pockets).

On Saturday I found a street that is full of music shops. I had to laugh because Barcelona is all about image, and one shop has only a Harley Davidson bike in the window. It sells music for Christ´s sake, and yet there were all these demi-goths hanging about gazing at the bike. Aren´t goths supposed to be into other stuff? But at least when you walk down the street you don´t feel threatened by the pantomime as they are all nice (in the Barcelona sense of the word) people. Although I do think some of those "don´t touch" signs in the shops should be removed. Why would I buy an instrument I´d never played?

Speaking of which, I found the Prawn shop in San Antoni, or at least that´s what I like to call it cos I find it funny and yes I know it´s not clever. I went in with 50 quid and I found so many things I wanted to buy I bought none. There was an overpriced string of tubular bells. There was a beautiful Washburn bass, which I would like to buy were it not 400 emus, which is a little to much for the poor relation at the moment. They had an old gameboy for 6 quid and Minidiscs for 100. Despite the smutty auld sale-of-work feel to the place, I think I will return sometime.

I went afterwards to see the film Broken Flowers with Darren. It´s an enjoyable watch I suppose, but a bit slow(which normally I like) and one-dimensional. But still interesting. I do like the end though. It was near midnight when it finished, so we went to a little cafe across the road for some coffee. The limegreen walls and plastic flower garlands should have warned us that the music would be dodgy Korean pop stylee, but nothing could have prepared us for the shock of hearing love songs sung LIVE by our host over a Karaoke machine! I am ashamed to admit that I fell into convulsive laughter, but I don´t think they noticed cos they were just too nice to us. There were only 3 other people in the cafe.

I was of course giddy as usual by now, seeing as that night seems to tug at some hormones in me that wanted to go and destroy everything, so I dragged Darren on a drink run. Or maybe we dragged each other. In any case, we ended up after the bars closed in La Paloma again, where one of the best DJs I have ever heard played. I asked her name and heard Giorgia De Frey but I will have to do a search cos I have no clue if I heard right. She was brilliant, and I danced for 4 hours rather than drink, and on the way home I jumped on window-sills and bollards, dancing to the posers in the square and only stopping from jumping on a taxi cos the driver glared at me convincingly.

On Sunday I was up bright and early and in great form which is not always a good sign in me as it indicates a crash. I went to Gordon´s for a rehearsal, and we are sounding good. I am looking forward to getting a few songs finished and gigging again. It´s been a long time, so long, in fact, that I am nervous about doing any performance when I go back to Dublin for the week.

Slave Labour,Half-Heads,Soccer,Soup and Mammies

It is dark outside and the office smells of stale smoke. This week my work has taken on yet another two countries and I have honestly not had time to jump over desks, let alone change my socks or annoy my colleagues. My schedule has changed again, and I am working mornings only now, which is nice in that after 4pm I am free, but being a dedicated insomniac I of course am still sleeping badly. For the first time, today I have the chance to write a quick blog and read the news and what do I find? Roy Keane has left Manchester United! Although I suspect he is on his way to Celtic, I wish I WISH he becomes the manager of the Irish Football Team, oh please please PLEASE!

So since I last wrote, I have had a visit from my mam, followed by a week of feeling rotten, working late every day, and working 6 days in a row with 2 shifts within 24 hours to top it all off. I am no workaholic, it´s just that I don´t like landing my colleagues in it, and so I did my bit. But it´s a great feeling knowing that if I want to walk away from it all that I will.

I think I have taken a decision on my halfhead boyfriend too. I have been trying to contact him all week but his phone is off and I have heard nothing. I think unless I hear something explaining why he is incomunnicado(I am being fair) that I will go home and not see him. It is his choice. I think anyway that I cannot continue a relationship like this. I am someone for whom absence does not make the heart grow fonder.

I have also this week inherited rollarskates! A pair of natty white 80s skates with which I plan to terrorise and frighten the locals by skating around at the dead of night with that loud crispy trundle that only a hard skate wheel can make...

As for the trip my mother made, well fair play to her for coming all the way out here for just one full day. I met her on the Friday at 4pm in the pissing rain having ended up under a bridge in a part of town that I didn´t know as opposed to at the train station where I was to meet her, but in the end I was so early that I could find my way eventually and still be on time. I brought her home for chicken and lime soup (I mean fed her the soup, or rather she fed herself the soup), and then she showed what she had brought me. BOOKS! I have been so bored and when she phoned and asked what I needed I said BOOKS! And tights, cos they are expensive here. I love my mam. So we went for dinner in a lovely Tapas place called Taller De Tapas in El Borne, and everyone loved us except the couple who tried to steal our seats (my mam glared at them, tossed her head and directed her "SOME people haven´t got a clue.." speech blankly at the wall in front of her and they got up and left). I brought her to the Milk bar where we got pleasantly tipsy before falling into bed. I slept on the floor but I couldn´t sleep cos the metro makes all the roads in this town vibrate, and if you sleep lightly like I do, then lying ON the floor means you feel every tremor. I know, I am a disaster. What can I say?!

The following day we shopped a bit for stuff for her to bring home and ended up mainly choosing foodstuffs like Turron, chocolate and chorizo. I dragged her up to the Gaudi houses and we walked to the Sagrada Familia. I walk everywhere and I forgot how far it was. I realised my mam is starting to get older now and although I don´t worry about it should I begin? No. She was tired at the end, but then so was I. I had played down the size of the church, so when we reached the Sagrada she was genuinely pleased to see it as it is awe-inspiring, not just cos the walk was ended. Then we went for a drink in the staunchly republican Michael Collins where I carefully didn´t discuss politics with the barman cos my mam would start fighting me. We went for dinner later ina lovely African restaurant in Borne again (har har) where they have only 5 plates to choose from but they are great. We went with Nathalie, and then for a coffee and a wander and finally to bed. My mam left at 6am the following morning and has already booked her return flight to Barcelona for January.

Meantime, I have been getting on well with Tato despite his girlfriend boring me to tears. Nathalie and I have gone out once or twice as well as Audrey and I, and on the full moon I had a lovely night in reading and then running up and down the stairs with the cat cos I had so much energy to get rid of.

On Monday I hope to have time to write a more comprehensive whinge, and I suspect I feel a confession coming on. One of my what the bladdy hell (as Audrey says in her thick french accent) am I doing type whinges. In the meantime I am offski to do a rehearsal. They are going great, in case you wondered.

Christmas decorations

I know it is November. I know that soon we will get the whole "bah humbug" and all that. But I LOVE Christmas! Regular as clockwork every year people get annoyed at how early the decorations are and how the real meaning of Christmas is gone, but you know what? I LOVE CHRISTMAS!

To me it is not about anything other than age-old children´s feeling of excitement, where you don´t really know what you are looking forward to, but you know it is great. Nothing is complicated, everything has a response. Sometimes Christmas is sunny and we play outside or go for a walk or flying kites in the mountains. Sometimes it rains and we huddle at the fire playing boardgames or reading books. Sometimes there is snow and we stand outside gazing upwards in disbelief and amazement aware that magic does exist.

In my family Christmas is simple. We stack all the presents under the tree:- my mam says it is quantity not quality, so the more presents, the more laughing we get out of it. Santy comes along and leaves some silly things in a pillowcase at the end of our beds. Me and my sister get drunk the night before, sometimes my parents accidentally meet up on Christmas eve and make me and my sister cry. Me and my sister then wake up at about 5am but we are not allowed get up til 6 and not allowed wake anyone til 7. We always get up anyway and perch on the twins´s beds "accidentally" waking them before 7. At 7 we burst into my mam´s room and drag her out and open presents of silly ball and maze games, and chocolate lollipops and flashing badges. Invariably someone steps on my mandarin. This year I want flashing teeth -hehehe.

At 9 my mam´s husband finally gets up, but these last few years he is much more into Christmas. He doesn´t even try to get us to wait til after dinner anymore, probably cos he can´t stand the look of withering scorn on my mam´s face after his suggestion. We make porridge, eggs and soldiers and toasted cheese, and we sit around the tree, with the twins shaking all the presents and all of pretending that they´ve just broken something. They jump up and down as they hand them out one by one. Invariably me and my sister refuse to open anything until the other has opened what we got her(in other words, until she has opened the present I bought her I will open nothing).

We play with the wrapping, we laugh at how my mam gets about 200 books, and still every year her husband steals one and wraps it up for himself even though she thought she was getting it. We eat cheese and crackers and chocolates and more mandarins. Dinner is simple and the crackers are always awful. Every year my mam pretends to leave out the brussel sprouts and every year my sister threatens to walk out unless sprouts arrive. The new game is "who´s turn is it to wreck Christmas". This comes from the days when my mam used to go mad if we complained about anything, and whoever it was was instantly branded as the Christmas wrecker. The poor twins - we make them repeat what they say 20 times, and as they repeat it we turn to each other and go "blahblahblahblah" and then "sorry? what did you say?" Luckily they have the same sense of humour as us and go "I just said(cue blahblahs)...h-oooh-ho-ho-ho!" We also have a game where we have to get words like "shit" and "vomit" into the dinner conversation without my mam noticing. I always win cos she doesn´t really listen to what I say, although since my sister started training as a vetinary nurse, she gets away with a lot more lately.

Which reminds me of the time we went for a meal at our favourite restaurant in Dublin, and there was a couple at the table beside us with two kids. One child was a little angel of about 3 years old, and her parents were completely ignoring her. So she came of course over to our table and stared at us. I didn´t really like that, but we didn´t blame the girl. It was obvious her parents were weekend parents who didn´t have a clue. They fed the baby boy they had and when he got sick on the floor they didn´t even clean it up. Me and my sister were determined to wreck their meal but not upset the children. We littered out conversation with curses to amuse the little girl, and when the couple´s food arrived we launched into an in depth animated discussion about performing vasectomies on dogs. And similar stories. The couple didn´t eat much. Me and my sister are not squeamish and enjoyed our meal thoroughly.

But anyway, back to my early Christmas rant. I can understand people disliking Christmas. But I think they usually have outside reasons. Like my dad, who never got to spend Christmas with us since his divorce. Christmas is best with children. Like the thousands of people who can´t be with the person they want to be with most, or who are alone. It is hard, and I am not taking away from that. I hope that things will improve for these people. Having no money can be a pressure, especially with kids, but we never had much money and still enjoyed Christmas, and I think some parents worry more than they should about this.

But the people who go on about the original message of Christmas and all that, well, to me it is simple. The original message of Christmas is to me to rejoice. It doesn´t matter if you are Christian or not(I am most definitely not). If you have a good time and try to be nice to people, even if it is just once a year, surely that´s a good thing?! If you don´t like shopping shop early or not at all. Or mail order. Or make stuff. If you don´t do Christmas, that´s okay, just don´t spoil it for others. If you don´t like the commercial side, don´t be commercial! Enjoy being wrapped in your cosy woolly jumper and drinking spiced tea and make your own cheer. If you don´t feel religious don´t be! If you want to go away and hide, do so!

This year my mam and crew are going to Blackpool to spend Christmas with her husband´s elderly mother. I am going home for the first week in December, and we will be celebrating our Christmas then. I look forward to cold wilds howling outside, leaning against the radiators with my book in hand, drinking a glass of wine, playing games and watching rubbishy telly, admiring the lopsided tree and funny old decorations, and being cocooned with my family inside our own homemade Christmas bauble.

Emotional Housekeeping

I read today on the BBC website that primroses have been spotted in Dublin, and that Spring is already on the way, despite Autumn barely being past. I think that warm winters definitely have affected our seasons, but I suspect that Spring will still be more or less on time this year, despite giving early signs. Many visitors to Ireland have told me that it is a country without seasons, so maybe I am a bit used to it. In any case, the days in Barcelona have been mild of late. You will still see me rush around with a scarf or a jumper, but it is bright and sunny and even warm at the moment. I hope it stays like this for my mam´s visit next week.

I had the last two days off and on Thursday I went to Darren´s house to rehearse with himself and Gordon. There was a huge accident outside seconds before I came down the street(I´d stopped off to buy some beer, so I guess beer saved my life). I think it was basic centrafugal force that had caused the car to turn upside down though, as it wasn´t much crushed and I think yer man was concious inside still. So hopefully not too bad.

We did "Switch that Light On" and it sounds really good. I rerecorded my basic tracks so that they have the correct length to play along with, and it is sounding fine. I watched a documentary on Tuvan throatsinging afterwards as Gordon fell asleep on my shoulder. I declined to stay overnight due to a strong sense of foreboding, and got a late night bus home to find the door double-locked. Nathalie opened the door groggy and grumpy, but I couldn´t sleep and went to do some logic puzzles before going to bed.

The following day I took it easy enough, and got up late. Tato and I went and bought 6 bottles of wine as Nathalie prepared some pasta. We were joined shortly by Darren with 2 bottles of Cava. The lads from the falafel would be down later. We´d a great time dancing around the house and drinking until Tato and Nathalie decided to go out and but some cigarettes. I´d a bad feeling about it, and sure enough Tato winked and nudged enough to make himself clear. I asked them to come back, but of course they didn´t. So after 20 minutes of being alone in the house with Darren, I suggested we go out. Tato and Nathalie couldn´t have painted a clearer picture if they´d told Darren to his face. I was a bit pissed off at the childishness of it all. If I want to be on my own for any reason I can engineer it myself.

We went to Trece first, a little cocktail bar off Placa Reial. It is a tiny refridgerator of a place, with dusky photos of naked ladies and old records on the wall. I had a really strong Mojito before heading off again to the Shamrock to find some work colleagues who had called me.

The Shamrock is a bit like a bar you would find in Tallaght or some newish housing estate in Dublin. It looks like an old snookerhall with new bricks, garish lighting, and the regular guinness clocks on the walls. Darren was completely hammered by this stage, and the situation was not improved by the fact that he ordered a drink, and my colleague ordered him a drink also. He was apologising profusely and I was unsure if he was really as drunk as he made out. I was bored. I opened a free magazine which screamed out "RAZZ:Soulwax & 2manyDJs". Well. My favourite band was playing down in Razzmatazz (or Rathmatath, as the Catalans call it). I wanted to go. But there was the small matter of finishing pints first.

Some pints and a taxi later and we were standing outside Razzmatazz looking bewildered. The queue stretched right around the block, and apparently is never so bad. It would take at least an hour, we were told. We watched for a bit but the queue was really not moving. I should have gone home then.

No, instead we took another taxi to La Paloma and this time the music was alright. I had had enough to drink and stuck to the water and danced. Darren was very affectionate by now, and I was politely pretending I didn´t get it and just being normal friendly back. I felt so rotten about it, but I just realised that I didn´t want to spoil this friendship over something stupid. It occurred to me that my prurient side might also have kicked in and I might behave differently if I were single. But this morning I know for certain that I have reached a point where I feel alone again, alone in a way that can´t be filled by messing around with people, that can´t be fixed by pretending. I think I will just have to do some emotional house-cleaning and start again looking for my (stupid) Mister Right or whatever he´s called.

This morning I woke up to my phone ringing. I answered "Hi Dana!" thinking it was my work mate. An indignant Dani retorted with "Dana?! DANA?!"...oops. I didn´t have anything to talk with him about. How come I am so isolated from everyone? Maybe the time has come to move again...

Insomnia

Although I only made it to bed at 9am this morning (with my four crossword puzzles) I was out and about again by 2 to have coffee with Nathalie. Tato is most certainly back now, and she is in the strange position of half-living in my room, and half in his. Because we do shift work we are rarely in bed at the same time so it pretty much works out. It was sunny and we had our coffee in the graden of an internet cafe from which you can hear the bells of the cathedral on every quarter. There is a pond with khoi and golfish down the back.

I didn´t actually do a great deal today but I feel like I did. I just had a fairly serene me day, where I thought a lot(probably due to my 4 hours per night habit of late). I once had a boyfriend who used to wake me when I slept because he was annoyed I could sleep and he couldn´t. And I´m a bloody insomniac! I still wake up feeling guilty sometimes and if I could never sleep, I probably wouldn´t.

I am still waiting on my bank card, and pretty broke as a result. All my colleagues gaped in horror as I eat pasta with olive oil only. Come on lads, taint exactly the famine or anything! Been toying with the idea of two books I want to write and another blog that is completely unrelated to this one. Part of the reason is that I feel this is a general diary type blog and I would like one in which I can explore myself more, through story or through a character I invent. It would need to be completely apart from here of course or else that would defeat the purpose. But will I have time to do both, especially when I am already struggling to find time at work at the minute? Probably not, but I will make time I suppose. I have no intention of actually paying for my time in an internet cafe of course!

Watched loads of Father Ted again today. Put poor Tato through a few episodes too. Lads, seriously, can you imagine?! Three priests stuck on a tiny island with each other! I love the way the scenarios are so ludicrous and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes I think all Irish people must have an anti-reality gene in them which causes them to react in the most hilarious manner in normal situations, and invariably turn anything into an extraordinary situation. Poverty is still very much a norm to laugh at. Many people have tellies but can´t pay their electricity and things like that.

Fell into a bit of a sleepy snoozy trance on the floor while listening to a record by dEUS. Realised I will have to trawl through Einstein´s theory of relativity properly and understand the mathematics of it some day soon. I spend a stupid amount of hours (usually when I should be sleeping) trying to figure out the properties of light versus mass and I am not entirely sure what my mind is getting at, if anything. I have no books to read again and I find beading and music too difficult if there is someone else there - they want to use the table or listen to the telly or something so I feel I should bugger off quickly...

Tato offered to disappear, as he put it, for the duration of my mam´s visit. I think it´s lovely of him, and I am glad I didn´t have to ask. I sort of hope that Nathalie stays on living in the house but I suspect that it might be good for me to rely on myself a bit more, although I am her crutch too I suppose. We will see what happens.

I feel very isolated and alone right now and while it is nice, it also means I am achieving nothing. I don´t know when this achieving thing kicked in, but anyway. I want to make a living from playing music. That means I need to save money, buy equipment, organise rehearsals and later gigs, and generally figure out if I will stay here or go home. I am putting if off every chance I get.

If I ever get anything done in my life, I will of course inform you.

Carpet Dude

There is a small man with a funny lip who walks around the office at night. I only see him when Julie has gone to the toilet or for a smoke. He sidles along in his green overalls, with a twiching grin on his face, but his eyes don´t smile. He stares, and if I stare back, he twists his head as he walks, or sometimes even stops and grins demonically. I don´t even know if it is his idea of friendly, but I do know my usual empathy programming fails with this man.

We all see him, cleaning the carpet, smoking, kicking the can machine, shouting at the silent phones, sweeping the ceilings(I joke not). Milling around a nearly empty building all night would probably drive anyone mad. After all, I run around screaming "Ow!"(and pointing) and "Get down y´all" and lepping off desks when I feel like it, but this guy is probably not that musical.

I suspect that there are in fact many carpet dudes, as none of us ever see him when we are with anyone else. He must be tailored specially to the fears and worries of each individual. I think that there is some company-sponsored mystery we have to complete involving this man, after which you gain promotion or something. Or perhaps he is just part of the company´s Social Work Programme...

The Day that´s in it...

Today was one of those days when you wake up with a premonition of things to come. I slept a troubled sleep, constantly aware of the noises around me, and awoke entirely unrefreshed. I got up and stumbled into the bathroom naked, only to stumble back out to poor Tato. I think he was more embarressed than me, as I just stood there rubbing my eyelids and he motioned to the door mumbling "hello...er..ten minutes...yessss.." I wonder am I fatter than the girl he left in Brazil - hehehe! I decided what I needed was bread and cheese and a good walk, and set off up the Ramblas at my usual breakneck speed. Of course it is a bank holiday, and most things were closed. I passed some skateboarders who crashed into me and apologised immediately - I stared suspiciously for a moment before deciding they meant it and then nodded and took off again. Poor guys, catching me in this mood. I walked around most of the medieval part of the city, crossing between the alleys and taking any old road I felt like. I passed many homeless people too.

Eventually I heard a voice behind me say "Excuse me, I don´t mean to interrupt you but...". I spun on my heel and fixed another stare. This time on a tall black man. Don´t talk to him, I thought, but then I figured he had been polite and why should I treat him any different than I would anyone else?

Of course we went for coffee, me still grasping my six euro in a sweaty palm as he offered to pay for it. I couldn´t believe it when he led me into a clothes shop and began to worry, but he saw my face and pointed to the end of the building laughing. There, at the back, sat a nice little tunnelly area with tables and chairs and serene lighting. It was safe. Throughout our little meeting, Soumana went through great pains to show he was just being friendly, not funny.

It was nice, we talked at first in Spanish, then in English, and he said he had passed me many times that day. We had two coffees and then went for another walk (at my request) around the area, ending up in Placa Espanya.

I had been to Placa Espanya by car before but had never gotten a good look at it. I had wanted to go for ages though. On certain days during the week they do fountain displays with music and lights, something I would love to bring my mother to when she is here. The fountains stretch all the way up the road to the pretty Art Institution, ending in a huge circular fountain where the main display takes place.

It was starting to get dark, so we headed back towards Born again (haha) and into a pub called El Bosque de les Fades near the wax museaum. It is a beautiful place. As you enter you pass windows full of origami insects backlit so that you can´t see inside. Once inside you can see the origami figures as well as outside of the window. Half the pub is decorated with trees I can only describe as though you might find in the oldest woods in middle earth and it even has a bridge over a stream, and the other half is somewhat bigger, still with lampshades of old sycamore leaves and melted glass lights, but more bar-like. It is beautiful. We had a drink and a chat here before I went home to watch some more Father Ted. Tato did not reappear, the cat sat on my lap without drawing blood, and I think I have a slight crush on Father Dougal.

Halloween Night

Halloween has always been the start of my new year as far back as I can remember. As a kid I always believed that I could travel through the gates that seperate the mortal world from the immortal, and everything seemed to be half-in half-out. It is a terribly pagan way of looking at it but I still feel the same electrical feeling and re-alignment of the world every Halloween. I can imagine the vine-wrapped gates emerge from the swathes of mist, the creak and smell of rust as they edge open, the glimmer of darker light on the other side calling me through...

I have just had the last four days off and now finally I am working. I must admit to being a bit disappointed that the only holiday I have to work is my favourite, but I guess I can do with the extra money. But I feel really charged, like I imagine full moon must be for other folk, like it is dark moon, and the beginning of my life is right here right now and I can grasp anything I want and travel at night through people´s dreams. It´s at times like these that I find it difficult to distinguish between real life and dream life. So many stories, the smells and colours and sounds and feelings all somehow more real than Barcelona is to me now.

On Thursday and Friday I didn´t do a great deal. I stayed at home with Nathalie and drank and smoked a huge amount and on Friday Darren came over too with his collection of Father Ted videos and beer, and I laughed harder than I have in a long time. We stayed up for most of the night, and when the end of the night came I felt strangely alert and sober, yet slightly as though I have been here before and it is not quite the beginning of this new circle in my life. We discussed tampons, childbearing and football (we thought Darren should take advantage of the female company...and not in a lewd sense), and discovered that our new neighbour is also the new employee at our work. That night I dreamt the prison dream, and a dream in which I was going out with Darren. The dream was all nice and normal but I woke up sweating and freaking out a bit, probably because I don´t want to even think of something so complex.

On Saturday I went out to little Poble Nou, and drank many beers, and listened to the Ozric Tentacles, a fantastic band from the 80s from round Oxford way. Gordon lives in Poble Sec and he´s a great character. He has a shaved head and the limp crinkled smile of a baby, but a rather ugly baby who is missing teeth. He is relaxed to the max, and possesses a fine and very sharp wit. He is also just a very nice man. The only thing I don´t like about him is the book he lent me on Saturday. Wilbur Smith. Lads, don´t bother. It´s crap. My gran says all intelligent women need to read crap sometimes, and I agree(not that I think Gordon is a woman, mind). But I think crap like Robert Ludlum is great. But this book is full of one-dimensional unbelievable characters, and really crass sex, and stupid female characters. And many of the simple descriptions of things are badly written. Muck.

Anyway, back in the land of the living, we finally got going properly with our music that night. We got some stuff together for some of the tunes Gordon has, and we started on rehearsing some of mine that we had already recorded. I never realised how difficult my songs can be, as I have always assumed that cos I hate playing guitar that anything I play must be ridiculously easy. Apparently not. I also had a long chat with Darren regarding what we were going to do and how, in order to conquer the world. I feel like we are on top of it for now. If this lasts I will not be returning to Ireland in the New Year, but it´s early days yet.

On Sunday I was going to take it easy, as going to bed at 6am and rising at 11am takes its toll after a bit. But Barcelona were playing Real Sociedad, and well, I had to go! I had seen the stadium from the outside before, but being inside was incredible. We were right on the top at the southern end, and looking down, everything was so steeply inclined, that I could see the pitch perfectly and I also had a great view of the mountains. The game started without warning and there were a surprising lack of announcements during the match. We noticed purely by chance that a player had been sent off while we watched the little yellow stretcher wagon come on. I just happened to count the players cos it looked suddenly like there were less, and lo! it was so! The Basque fans made a huge amount of noise and sang beautifully while the Catalans sat in eerie silence, occasionally clapping or sending paper aeroplanes down the stadium. I felt sorry for the Basques that they got crushed 5-0.

My mam is arriving Friday week (the 11th) for a flying visit. 2 days, but I am looking forward to it. Unfortunately, my flatmate has arrived home a full 3 weeks early. Apparently he had split off from the two other lads to go visit his ex-girlfriend. His current girlfriend was very good about it, but I think she is unaware of how totally Tato is unable to be alone, and how he gets around. I don´t know her, but I have given out to him about this but anyhow. Apparently, the ex-girlfriend has been on anti-depressants this last year and has grown quite fat. So upon seeing this, Tato upped and left! Decided he didn´t want to have her in his bed after all and just went home! I am annoyed not only cos I think it´s mean, but because now instead of just me and my mam in the house, or me and Nathalie, Tato is thrown in too. And while I do like him, he is the type of person I would rather my mam didn´t have to deal with because he seems to be getting wasted, and not just on drink, pretty much all the time now. I know that sounds good coming from me, but i don´t cart home the world and its mother and have parties til 9am every morning that would raise the dead. He does. I will have to ask him if he minds staying with his girlfriend next weekend.

I also got a call from Dani this evening. Just telling me he was going to the shop to buy beer. I could here the fireworks and screaming in the background, and the siren sounds that seem to permanently echo round Tymon North these days. Halloween is much more fun at home.