14th June
Maybe Glastonbury was never for me. Maybe being off my tits in a field with all my mates experiencing what some have called a transcendental happiness was not actually my bag.
Maybe going there would have led to untold hardship.
Yes. Untold hardship.
The universe, man. We are not in control of our lives so why do I attempt to live life as such.
Why must I plot my fun, queue and register for fun, construct an entire new personality for fun. Isn’t the key to fun – spontaneity?
Yes! Spontaneity!
15th June
Spontaneity man. Why is it so hard to organise? – I mean – find. Chance upon.
Some just do it – They’re in a pub on a Tuesday for a bottle of an unplanned wine with people they just bumped into. because. that is a fun thing to do? They throw caution to the feminine shame – you know, the shame of being out of control – you know, the shame entrenched within you since birth that makes anything unplanned come with a complex internal battle about how ‘Good’ you really are, as a person. You know.
Tonight, I am a lady throwing things into the shame. The pub! I am taking on the pub! Knowing there is no Glastonbury, knowing I don’t have to torpor no more, makes me feel invincible against the pub.
I am not.
Pub closes leaving me drunk and adrift with a bladder that is the least invincible thing about me. Find most perfect alleyway. Dark. Uninviting. Obscured by parked cars. Practically demanding I urinate!
It’s only as I’ve set in to the wee that I take in my surroundings, namely the door I’m pissing in front of with signs that read:
Do not piss here. This is a front door not a toilet.
How do you think it feels to open this door every morning to your piss?
I’ll tell you: It is utterly disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself.
It is a powerful set of signs that make me deeply contemplate my actions and instil a great deal of feminine shame.
Unfortunately by that point, there is no stopping me.
16th June
Somehow forgot that while my Glastonbury is cancelled, this wedding weekend I was also saving myself for is very much not and now look at me – i will throw up on this train into my pret vegan sunshine breakkie pot at any moment.
It’s like ive done… Whatever the opposite of torpor is. I cannot be clever im hungover leave me alone.
24th June
A date last night. My third First Date and don’t even have anything bad to say about him apart from:
His sunglasses were made of wood.
after too many aperols I bullied him and he responded by wearing them all night. I suppose I admire that level of self-respect.
Needless to say, the emotional strain of bullying someone for five hours has tired me out and I am in no mood to have any more fun.
UGH. can I say no to a spontaneous plan from my normally unspontaneous friends after I bemoaned the whole group’s lack of spontaneity? The gals (with usually full iCals) are suggesting a last min plan at me. An unplanned drink? Um. Okay? I guess my hopes and dreams are coming true at the most inconvenient time.
25th June
Does it harness or undermine the spontaneity of an evening if you spend it talking about how cool it is that you are being spontaneous? I don’t know.
What I do know: We didn’t wear it well. One would ask timidly: Another drink? And we’d all think: Well, that means, more commitment to this evening and… we all had… plans to be home… not doing this. And we’d all say: Yeeeeah!
Thanks to one friend, who had a night off from her 2-year-old and was desperate to make it count, the evening had a fierce motor propelling us forward. So, by midnight we’re in a dingy doorway to a club discussing at length whether we should go in considering the entry fee of £10 (which I would easily drop on two pret boiled eggs and a packet of popcorn, but suddenly money’s an issue.)
Is £10 entry a worthy investment if we are all not sure we want to be here? Are there any seats in there? Maybe one of us could do a recce so we can make a better informed decision / WhatsApp poll? Etc etc
After witnessing the loss of his valuable time on this earth, the doorman had to interject:
Look. Please. The money doesn’t matter. You can go in for free, just please, leave.
In the club i operated like any other person engaging in unplanned plans: smiling, dancing, drinking.
In my mind, it was like reading those piss signs again.
unfortunately by that point there was no stopping me and i had to use all my energy not to hate myself as internal battle commenced:
Right it’s actually disgusting you’re out and everyone’s going to be really mad at you for doing this
No! I countered people don’t hate people for dancing, if anything, they like you more - look at Strictly.
okay but your whole schedule / life is probably ruined.
No ! I countered i’m having fun and I am dancing and i won’t be held back by this shame…plus I reckon i can probably get away with it if i send the texts out to rearrange my schedule first thing and punish myself endlessly for the coming week.
okay. but just to be clear: everyone hates you.
I refuse to pay for clubs for this very reason. I also, since the pandemic, am constantly shocked when people post on Instagram they are in one. I thought we collectively agreed to stay home all weekend? Who are all these people out dancing? Well done brave soldier. Spontaneity- I’d never. 😂
I genuinely get a jolt of excitement when you land in my inbox. That sounds erotic, but true 🤣💜