Dragging the depths for material

Despite doing nothing more than usual this week I did it all twice. I had to go to my Dad's midweek and my Mum as I did her gardening as usual when her gardener's busy. So the time wasn't wasted, and I had a friend over for a couple of hours the other night and that was about the whole week, plus another trip- tying up some loose accounts. Like a cowboy on the corral but with files and only room for one person when there were two in the garden shed which passes for an office. What a fascinating life it can be.

When nothing much happens I go off on tangents, and one day a tangent will be not just published but paid for somewhere. That is both an aim and a belief. With so much practice I barely ever plan them unless they were on my mind all day. I open the box here and something flows. Philosophy has been forced on me by adversity and days on my own every week. I crack one issue after another, but instead of many having any practical use for me just lead me to the next one. How many could there be and will I ever get to the end? Even if you have an answer to every social issue it's pretty useless if you aren't living with other people. I never had low self esteem, the closest I got was being embarrassed for not having a job. I looked at all aspects of that and realised it wasn't my problem and anyone rich enough not to work is never thought badly of though those of us not well enough to work or shunned by employers are seen as lazy scroungers. And if lazy means you don't want to waste your time doing pointless menial tasks then yes, I'm lazy, and it's a virtue as it stops people wasting their energy.

I've got no issues today or seen ahead. There's only so much excitement possible in life and mine is mainly in the past. Will Self wrote a nice article in The Times this week about local parks, and was fascinating as he lived off my road and they are all the places I've taken on Flickr and grew up with myself. Besides going to Cambridge he's no more qualified than I am to write, he just went ahead and did it. I don't know his career path but he definitely had no insiders to help him unlike most. I'd write my own autobiography first, maybe as a novel, as it's something to begin without needing to think of a story. It's all about presentation. We all have interesting bits in our lives but some describe them better than others for entertainment value.

Stories such as Tony the amateur artist, who at the age of 4 daubed faeces in circles on the yellow portakabin wall at school to try and hide the fact he'd shit his pants will probably remain my best if I live to 100. It's hard to follow a story like that but I'll try. OK, I did it a couple of years later, I had a major duty to pass and was sitting round the corner in my friend's mother's car while she picked up his brother from a friend. I pretended nothing had happened and as soon as he walked in the car any pretence was impossible. The next day at school the woman on duty in the playground said 'I'm not standing near him who poos'. Like no one on earth had ever done it before, and I'd been cleaned up the day before. But it proves I am not immune from the wrath of my won pen, god forbid. Who on earth could aim acid at anyone and everything without being able to take it themself?
Any more nostalgia while I'm here? If only something would happen in 2006 which would become nostalgia 20 years from now. My last real nostalgia was the last week my friends were in Golders Green before leaving for at least 7 years abroad. I filmed the whole thing, and friends were in and out all week, eating and partying as it really was the last time. They owned the house for around 50 years and was sold last year after being rented out. That is sad and since then nothing has taken their place. Besides 6 years of being incommunicado I was in and out of the house for 30 years and never again. That was over 4 years ago and nothing since that rings a bell.

I now think I'll need to check the paper each week as the dropkicks at Sky know less than my cat about their jobs. I expect the programme will be on from 7 to 11pm and it coincides with the new series of the 4400 (looked like total crap as usual) so I'll have to be vigilant or I'll miss it. Well, that's a journey from 2006 to 1964 and back in a complete circle, a sort of preview to any book I'll write. I just started Will Self's book I was given and it's about his life, so I'm not just reading a true story but about people and places I know which is bloody unusual. He's the last contact from the past I haven't managed to get hold of, and since I last saw him in 1972 will be interested to know if he remembers me. I did make an impression most places I was so I hope so.