A MOOT POINT

I got one of the paintings I bid for.
He phoned me up said, 'You got the self portrait...and you need to come collect it.'
I wasn't sure which one it was, hoped which one it was and when I arrived to pick it up it was the one I hoped it would be.
Lost a few things this year, people mostly, but we can't hang on indefinitely, can we? And what doesn't get said doesn't disappear it remains to inform the next time and the time after that and so on and on and on...you can construct or adopt theories around avoidance...
She said, 'Why don't you ask, you scared of rejection?'
'Not scared,' I said. 'Just tired of it.'
D said she'd like me to be here when she gets back so I can meet her friend. I said is there anything you want me to do? You can hide your drugs she said.
I don't mind being thrown out of where I live. She said I'm not throwing you out, which is a moot point.

IMAGINE

‘Sometimes I hide to wind him up,’ she said a slight smile her eyes shining. ‘I can see him panic when he doesn’t know where I am.’
‘Sounds like retaliation,’ I said, ‘You doing that.’
She mimiced what he does, craning his neck, looking for her, ‘Like this, he is.’
‘He doesn’t want to lose you,’ I said.
We were at a Marks and Spencer checkout.
‘It’s chaos when he comes back home,’ she’d said when I loaded my shopping behind hers.
‘Oh yeh?’
‘He’s updated my computer to make it faster and now I don’t know where anything is.’
‘Slow to them isn’t that slow to us, is it?’ I said, allying myself with her thinking of my daughter showing me a shortcut with a sigh.
Somehow we got to his anxiety when she’s out of his sight.
‘He can’t bear it,’ she said. ‘And neither can I, I’m glad when he’s gone.’
‘Home, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘A relief, is it?’
I’ve been reading about attachment and violence, so I’m not surprised a stranger is saying what this older woman is saying to me at this time.
She said that he’s always been like it.
‘Always?’
‘Since when I was really ill when he was younger, not five yet, and I had to go to hospital and they were taking him the other way and he was screaming and it was difficult for me too but what could I do? I was really ill.’
‘He hasn’t forgotten, then?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘and I said to his wife, “Is he the same with you?” but he isn’t and to be honest I’m glad he isn’t...I suppose I’m flattered.’
‘That he’s so attached to you?’
‘Goodness knows what’ll happen when I die.’
‘You won’t be there to see it,’ I said.
‘But I can imagine...’

AMBUSHED

This post will be available only from the Here Shop and/or somewhere on Stokes Croft.

EVEN MORE

My watch said, ‘22:42.’
‘Is there a bus coming soon?’
‘I’m sorry?’ I said, a moment to adjust to company.
‘Is there a bus coming soon?’ said the man again.
Beard, long side-parted black hair, eyes with the orange of a street light in them. He spoke quite loud and flat.
‘There’s one at forty-one,’ I said.
‘Is that soon?’
‘It’s forty-two by my watch.’
‘Ten forty-two?’
‘Yes.’
He said, ‘You going for a few drinks?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m going home.’
‘I thought you might be going for a few drinks in town get the night flyer back.’
‘Not today,’ I said.
I liked him. I could bear him talking.
‘Here’s one now,’ he said. ‘That’s lucky...for me anyway. What about you,’ he said, ‘you been waiting long?’
‘No. I just got here.’
As the bus pulled in I moved to the end of the shelter in anticipation. I got on first, sat upstairs at the front on the right.
The man travelled downstairs, got off a few stops later. I heard him say, ‘Happy Christmas,’ to the driver and I liked him even more.

REMEMBER IT’S CHRISTMAS

There was a banging on my front door and a raised voice.
'Is that you postie,' I shouted expecting a parcel.
‘Open up in the name of the law,’ said the same voice.
Getting out the bath I'd just got in, wrapping a towel round the bottom half of my wet naked body, I walked crab like along the hall to the door.
‘Whose law?’ I shouted
‘Ours, you twat. Now open up.’
I opened the door a little, peered out. Two policemen, blurry without my glasses.
‘Yes?’ I said. ‘Officer.’
‘Sorry to bother you.'
‘I’ll bet.’
‘Well, pleasure aside, have you seen the man lives in that flat over there?’
‘On and off for the last ten years,’ I said.
‘Recently.’
‘He was having a fag outside the laundry a few days ago and we said “hello” to each other and I asked him if he knew the two characters trying to get in the building who were shouting at us, “Oi, we’re trying to get in the building.”’
‘And did he?’
‘What?’
‘Know the two characters you just said were trying to get in the building.’
‘They said that,’ I said. ‘That’s how I knew.’
‘Knew what?’
‘They were trying to get in the building.’
‘Yes, you said,’ he said. ‘But did he know?’
‘Who?’
‘The man who lives in that flat over there?’
‘Did he know what?’
‘The two men, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Now now,’ I said. ‘Remember it’s Christmas.’

I

A

Ample. Adequate. Able. Anticipating. Article. Abstract.

E

The Big E

I

I am deluded.
I have fantasies.
I think I can when I can’t.
I am a narcissist.
I don’t love myself.

O

Oh.

U

Useless.
Ungrateful.
Ugly.
Unctuous.
Uncontrollable.
United.
Untied.

THE EMPORIUM



Crowds gathered outside the Emporium showing photographs by bright young things.

Forgive me for I have sinned.

GLOSSY

‘Can I leave a few of these?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘And would you mind if I left this?’
‘No,’ and he took it.
‘Oh, and I’ve got something for you,’ he said. ‘Now where are they?’
He came out from behind the counter, round the central island of books pausing long enough to say, ‘No, now where are they?’
‘Ah yes,’ he said and bent down reached to the back of the bottom shelf to my right, brought out and gave me a book with a photo of the Wall from Ninetree Hill.
‘He said to give you this,’ in my hands, glossy.

ONE

Texted: thanks for the book, I love it.
...I thought about it a while, was going to say - thanks for the book - but settled on too much...
...they offered me a new phone, she said, I said, they didn’t fucking offer me one...

ALREADY

Texted: I’m going to buy some art on Stokes Croft
‘It’s tomorrow,’ he said after saying hello, ‘didn’t you see the second e-mail? I got the first one wrong.’
‘Er, no.’
I saw the piece I wanted wondered would be as much as the fifty pound already bid for the painting of the Wall, which is a bit rough, not naive...
Already?

FUNNY

He said something was at Container so I went there.
‘You the artist?’ I said to the man serving drinks, mulled wine, orange juice.
‘No,’ he said.
I turned to look at the painting. I heard laughter behind me. Scoff.
‘They’re excellent,’ I said as I walked out the room, wishing I’d said, ‘Funny, is it?’