Today has been a series of cycle rides through various selves. Agency with and interplay over such parts is intriguing
Woke up in a foul mood. Instant toxic bitterness at god where you go straight at first causes, your eyelid breaks open reluctantly “you slack cunt god, you miserly prick, pretending no cunt knows you’re sneaking round or shouting, all or nothing type of cunt”. Just getting momentum into blasphemous rage, alarm clock for the kids pings and then you simply have to haul it
Dad head. Mrs slept on so we made porridge. Don’t expect nippers to understand tidy + porridge. New bourgeois shower head. Very nice pressure, not like that you disgusting chimps. Warming up the visceral god hate abated. Mrs found some random photos from the football recently, years and years ago, kind of photos that act like fanned out memory doilies. Cut ups of images, sounds, dates, relationships, players, who’s dead now, instantly kaleidoscopic. First work call and everything pivoted
Work self. Cease swearing. Do not swear or tell people to fuck off. You have your colleague head for different personalities, the odd cunt or busy body, then your client head for the range of communication abilities and focus (eg are they still nodding out and lying?). Juggle accordingly. Be sgt-major and rip a cunt if you have to and be patient, empathic and focused for different client ranges. Not face to face, so no threats of violence. If it’s NHS liaising go up a gear, flatten out language entirely. Rapport isn’t a factor, Kafka might be
The couple who run the local shop for local people. Happy clappers, unavoidable awkward interactions nipping down. I’ve tried every convivial self with these 2. Jokes. News. It’s from not dropping 40£ a week on alcohol. The conversations always finish hanging, like Childan, unable to pick up a certain cadence or shift. And then a much older criminal self pipes up with “they’re the perfect laundering front - white, Christian, religious, constant turnover- you should dig into these 2 a bit, see whose £ they’re fronting”. Picture pics of atypical, local, good-cause literature pinned up and a bay window full of trade ads, to help the community. Hmmm
Pickled self, everyone in bed or work. This is when the drinker/heroin fiend can play their calling cards “go on, it’ll be fine, sleep it off”. Tap tap tap. Hear it? I mostly play these chaps Lull. Mick Harris for transcendent calm
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