Leave job possible reality:
- 1 hour running every day like Murakami.
- 1 hour foreign language every day.
- Start that business.
- Cook every day.
- Pick up kids after school.
- All house jobs completed.
- House painted.
- Novel published.
- Weight gain.
You see the day and I see the line that refracts from your eye to mine through the glowing darkness. We share an ambition but mine is clearly more relevant. Stand back and let me see what you’ve done there.
No, I don’t understand what you mean with these interactions. The idea here is we’re trying to create things which have reference to the past, a story, a key point, but they also draw in new elements. Take for example a Tarantino film – loving in its legacy and yet tightly bound within key constraints which keep us engaged. He weaves anachronisms and stylistic metaphors into his routines. But these are no mere accidents or peccadilloes. This is his style? Do you see how that would work for you in your day to day? You take a step back and the distance between kerb and street is not so far – you step into the world of the car and the tram and you wonder what will happen outside these boundaries. Perhaps you are warned off by a policeman, a ticket inspector, a passing bakerist. What would those people have done if you hadn’t come into their lives? What interaction are you trying to convey when you get up in the morning? Is that the dress you would have picked out if you were on holiday, been dumped, had a financial windfall? What are the extremes and what are the median points?
Is there actually time left to prove ourselves anymore? Can we put that much thought into the series of events that make up a life? Think damn you. Your reputation rides on this and your reputation in this enigmatic market is only as good as your last inconsequential performance.
Now you can roll on to your back. You can view the sky as it’s meant to be viewed – as a proper reflection of your place on this Earth. When you see the clouds and the gulls and the high planes and satellites passing you steadily as you float and dip and crane your neck to keep them in view and use your limbs to balance your body as it floats steady on the surface. Nights pass and the world closes around you but soon enough the sun comes around again and seeing the sky glowing and the waters calm the theatre of your imagination is once again engaged.
Your rested state allows you to pursue your fancies. You mind is free from those islands of worry, from the perception of fear. Your thoughts turn to earlier freedoms and those friends of yours who have made this journey before. Long ago, you were chief amongst them, bold and unafraid. You showed no fear of the rough seas, the fortified encampments, the terror of the battle, the emptiness of defeat. And then steadily you solidified your path – you steeled your emotions – you focussed your attentions and your battles became strategic rather than visceral and raw. You left your youth behind still standing with long hair and a cigarette and you doubled your efforts and doubled them again taking final recourse to proper exploration and pride and effort in your travails. You created detailed maps of movements, troop plans, supply lines. You moved with generals and commanders and yet you marvelled at their single mindedness. You see them as pure application without flair and yet you underestimated their tenacity. Your template was a flawed one to follow and now you drift as if without idea. Ready for landfall but afraid of the implications.
Yet you float ever onward and feel the mighty swell of water beneath you. Dark depths and uncharted wrecks, monsters that once made you stutter in terror now give you strength not to fear or to lay becalmed or to postpone those ideas that once you never entertained.
There is a great loathing upon this land. The marks that define your eyebrows are buried beneath the sand but I can see your wrinkled forehead adopting a pose of stoic indifference. A waiting for your fate. A wait for your deliverance perhaps from the words that bind you. Waiting in time for the moments to elapse. These are your words and your fate and you have burnt them into yourself. You buried your body here. You allow it to flow around you as the tides and the winds came and went. The hard grasses float upon the shifting layers but your weight holds you steady and those mites, once insignificant, have piled their weight around.
I saw you come and I saw you settle as I have seen others mightier come and go. Vast reaches of this shoreline are marked with their history and yet all softens and levels in time.
I have been here watching you and I too have grown weary of this land. My ears are dull, my sight is feeble. My feet once buried now are free and soon the tide comes to lift me away. I cannot stop it and have no will. I have no fear of the sea behind me – it will come to pluck and carry my body across the threshold of the breakers and into the deep green. From there I will see you dwindle and decay as ocean tips and spins me end over end.
I’ve created a little spreadsheet costing up the various bits I’ve assembled so far for the toilet replacement. It’s pretty much on budget so far but that will soon get blown by the tiling and flooring as of course they didn’t come in as prime considerations at the time I started planning. Initial thoughts went like this:
Hey. Let’s change the toilet!
- Ok, first we need to rip out the old one and replace it with a snazzy new one on a frame!
- Yeah, and a new sink!
- Yeah, and new walls!
- Cool, let’s get all that stuff and make a start!
The stuff duly arrives plus I spend two weekends trawling DIY shops and I’ve done the prep work and then I eventually realise that as this is a wall mounted toilet you need to work out what the final floor height will be for that to make any sense. I will also need to tile the frame of the toilet before I can actually mount the thing. So despite the fact I’ve got most of the stuff now I actually still need tiles and floor right now if I’m to mount it correctly and keep downtime to a minimum.
Small rooms mean lots of thinking. Plumbing supplies no matter how ‘easy fit’ still require planning and have proprietary hieroglyphs and youtubes instead of written instructions. I bought a flexible water hose to connect the cistern because that was the only one I could find with the right fitting in the shop. I wasn’t totally sure I wanted to install a flexible hose where I couldn’t see it and finally I find a step-by-step guide to doing this kind of thing that says No, Don’t Use A Flexible Hose – Use Copper Pipe You Moron. I then realise I should’ve just ordered the default compression joint it recommended alongside with the toilet as that would have saved this hassle. Then I start panicking that I’ve got the wrong thickness plasterboard for tiling over and that my walls will now come out too far and basically it’s all a complete disaster.
However, it’s not a disaster. Not yet. I’m essentially no further on than I was two weeks ago but I’ve managed to half fit the sink and I at least have a roomful of bits. I’m still running a simulation on the second part of this build – assembling parts, playing through scenarios. It’s certainly 90% planning when you’re doing this for the first time. It’s mentally exhausting but I’m learning a lot. I’m also very glad I didn’t take the old toilet out just yet..