9:58 pm - 30 August 2004
the happy wanderer returns
i am happy
i am a wanderer
i have returned
yes, after 10 days holiday in greece (north london) i am back home, with my own bed to look forward to. although i did very much like Inklet's bed because she was mostly in it at night. mostly. except last night, but if you read her diaryland you'll know why so i won't go in to it.
most important thing i learned from staying there: i gots to get me some cable tv. i got addicted to the music channels, vh2 kept doing "war of the roses" in which they play a lot of stone roses and guns 'n' roses. clever, eh. i like stone roses so i watched their bit, although it was ALWAYS "fools gold" or "waterfall", they never played "i am the resurrection". Inklet's dad told me yesterday i'd like channel 470. i'm not sure how much of it is legal on that channel.
also, they got a new puppy yesterday. as opposed to an old puppy, which is what we call a "dog" or a "bitch" depending on its gender. it has now been named jake and i want one. but me ma said no because we've got two cats. the black cat is on my bed yawning at me, i think they both missed me being away because i am like doctor dolittle. not just because i am at one with the animals, i'm lazy as well. like cats.
last week we went to london for the day. we went to the saatchi gallery. there was some good stuff in there - i was impressed by the work of ron mueck. there were two particular that stood out. "dead dad" was a sculpture of a nekkid man 1m long made out of silicon & acrylic. i was expecting him to wake up, stand up, strut his funkeh stuff c'mon. "mask" was a human face from the point of view of a baby, ie it was 2m high. when you got up close it was proper detailed, things like a spot and dimples on the chin. there was also shit (and it really is) by tracy emin and damien hurst. damien hurst's stuff isn't too bad, at least he's put a bit of effort by finding a shark, building a tank, and putting the two together with formaldehyde. same with the sheep one. but emin is just a fucking con artist. her bed made me want to vomit.
11:30am - woke up still pissed. haven't got enough money for a packet of fags.
11:45 - spoke to the saatchi gallery. sold them my bed for shitloads. going to get drunk to celebrate.
its a fucking con, its taking the piss. i paid near enough �9 for that pile of wank. i dread to think how much wank was in that, god man. too much.
work tomorrow. dammit, man, i don't wanna go work tomorrow. hey, it was a year ago today that i went back to work after my 2 weeks holiday (it was a saturday, yeah). that evening, i was cutting a cork with my new swiss army knife and it snapped shut and took off my finger tip. 6 weeks off, that, because the doctor told me to. maybe that isn't such a good idea this time...
Treeson has missed you all
