apiphile: (maurice)
[personal profile] apiphile
A GOOD THING: I tried the thing the internet suggested where you ask for an Americano with pumpkin spice syrup and then you get the joy a PSL without having to forfeit any other food that day. It worked.

A BAD THING: I think my expensive leggings went missing in the post.

A GOOD THING: That https://www.instagram.com/p/BZZDtXkhkjC/?taken-by=derekdesanges rockpool salad was straight up fucking incredible and jellyfish are not a scary food

A BAD THING: I cannot stop googling rent-on-your-own prices and I literally cannot afford to live, on my wage, even within commuting distance of my job, from outside of London, even WITHOUT FACTORING IN the additional cost of travel.

A GOOD THING: Obsessive Googling has led me to work out a cycle route to work that won't involve too much uphill on the way home (assuming I can actually get my bike down, which won't be until the builders have fucked off) and am not too petrified by London traffic on the way in. I can indeed use the remaining time to get myself in shape on the spinner to be able to handle 32km in one day.

A BAD THING: I am a fucking human scream made of directionless anxiety. WHY WON'T IT STOP. WHY WON'T IT STOP. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM.

(no subject)

Sep. 23rd, 2017 01:56
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
HOORAY I just fucking logicked and maths'd myself into "and that's why you should just go kill yourself".
apiphile: (henry scott tuke)
[personal profile] apiphile
In "I'm not having a very good day" news:

1. Bad sleep thank you the builders for literally just drilling by my head all morning
2. Weigh-in day went badly in that I've managed to fucking gain back over a kilo in a week despite adhering to diet and doing the monster cardio so I FEEL JUST *GREAT* ABOUT MYSELF THANKS
3. Split lips
4. Despite good weather & breakfast even post-warm-up my workout faltered on the crosstrainer, my legs just would not DO what I wanted from them. I doubt this was much improved by being thoroughly dispirited by weigh-in. Noped out and went off to do yoga.
5. Doing maths in my head regarding budget and even if I curb the tendency to spend on frivolous crap I would not be able to afford to eat and travel every day without Linds paying me back stuff at the end of the month, which considering how little I pay him in rent is thoroughly fucking humiliating. Not really sure where to economise beyond "take busses all the time" and "savers range food and never mind how badly it fucks up your diet". Oh and of course everyone's favourites, "no more fancy coffees" and "stop going out anywhere", because you know, the £1.50 I spend on lime & soda is the problem.
6. Fatigue
7. Anyway I managed to get out of the house but due to aforementioned issues about money didn't treat myself to the paltry Costa Americano or anything else, just got a free Waitrose coffee and tried to avoid making eye contact with people on the train and failed. (A small plus: my hideous pink running shorts came. They exactly match the writing on the Dream Daddy crop. I am ready to ruin people's eyeballs with this outfit as soon as I can go somewhere in it).
8. Arrived at work: immediately had someone on one social media feeding me the "London is a terrible concrete hell and my rent is much cheaper" line (I'm sure it is, much as the rent in prison is notoriously cheap, but I CANNOT GO ANYWHERE IN THE COUNTRYSIDE AND I NEED CONSTANT STIMULATION OR I GO MAD); someone on another social media decided my advice to a friend was for her and huffed at me about it, then about eighty people on Tumblr put my back up.
9. Small bonus: managed to write more garbage for Liza. Learned that the World's End pub in Camden used to be the Old Mother Red Cap, named after the excellent Mother Damnable, Jinney Bingham, a wonderfully cursed woman who was immediately dubbed a witch and a murderer.
10. "SEMEN is thought to have been pumped into a soap dispensary in Detroit airport and used by passengers."

I'm... clearly not having the worst of all possible days since no one has decided to jizz in the soap.
apiphile: (maurice)
[personal profile] apiphile
who i wish i was:

reads in cafes for FUN instead of desperately trying to shovel research material into his easily-distracted face; experiences emotions about movies then doesn't immediately get angry about having them; goes to classes & talks a lot and gets to meet new people and do cool stuff; goes to more parties and clubs; is good at making new friends; does not centre his entire life around writing one book a year and his calorie intake; is better-dressed; eats whatever the fuck he wants; learns and retains new skills

who i am:

broke; punishingly shy & filled with self-loathing; entire self-worth hinges on fuckability (none) and overachieving volume of writing & quality of writing despite managing neither; fat & obsessed with that fact; incapable of going to any social event alone unless very very primed for that already; gets stuck in ruts all the time; refuses to add people on fb or other social media after meeting them at parties even when they ask me like 90 times and even fucking give me business cards with their fb profile on pointedly because they "really liked hanging out" like oh you fucking idiot i am a neurotic bag of screams and i never shut up; never sleeps properly; resents everything; eating disorder

Tumblr tags:

#this post brought to you today by not being able to sign up to a bookbinding class#because it was too expensive#i s2g when i actually manage to go to classes i enjoy them?#i do... have a very bad habit of trying to avoid people i've met via social situations#even if i really like them#i just feel like a fraaaauuuuuud and they'll FIND ME OUT#and realise that i'm both boring and COMPLETELY INSANE

(no subject)

Sep. 21st, 2017 21:19
apiphile: (did it on purpose)
[personal profile] apiphile
Working through something creative - I don't care how pretentious this sounds - and reached the conclusion that actually despite the obnoxiously loud voices suggesting otherwise, it isn't actually MY JOB to push myself to create stories that I resent making & feel forced into. There are definitely social issues and experiences I want to explore which lie outside of my own immediate sphere but there are also limitations on how far I should bend to satisfy - there are always other writers writing who you can and should support if they're giving you what you want - and one thing I primarily know, having explored it very thoroughly both recently (Soft Inheritance) and longer ago (The Other Daughter, Tame, ASAH) with a number of stories is that with a couple of exceptions (The Grandmother Virus and the weird science body swap story) I don't want to or feel happy with writing female protagonists as the main voice of a novel any more. It's not my story & it's close to one that feels like entrapment for me.

I know a lot of cis women readers want to see themselves in fiction in a widely expanded variety of roles & stories and I wholeheartedly support it (and read it), I'm just not the person to provide it. I'm here to write damaged boys, some of whom are gonna be trans, some Gods, some disabled, some not the same race as my pasty white ass - but they're probably going to be boys.


Did an exercise. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZTz4TZhO-r/?taken-by=derekdesanges - caption involves a remark about calorie information so if you want to avoid specific numbers don't click

{I'm exhausted and want this week to be over, and I want to have the time to write stupid fic and also to actually do more work for the book and I want to stop fucking things up and I want to, especially, settle on one fucking consistent and pleasantly warm body temperature and have my GARBAGE CORPSE stick to it instead of either sweating or shivering, also fuck chest pains and especially fuck being dizzy and confused so much of the time).

Icon appropriate for once

Sep. 21st, 2017 00:53
apiphile: (the trick)
[personal profile] apiphile
Y'know just in case people think I go into the gym or into NaNo with a spring in my step and joy in my heart: I am as filled with hate as everyone else for grinding away at things that are difficult, and there is no point in asking me what my "tactic" is, my tactic is just bullying and refusing to let myself go anywhere until I've done the thing I have said I'm doing. Effectively I use the "tactic" my mother used on me as a child, minus the bugs and the physical pain.

It's kind of depressing to see it touted as "self-discipline" or "self-control". I hold myself prisoner because I don't know how to motivate myself with positivity. I don't think there's anything particularly heartening about that.

(no subject)

Sep. 20th, 2017 22:37
apiphile: (a story where you go eat a dick)
[personal profile] apiphile
I will spare you the amount of my day that was eaten up by thoughts about either working out or gay airmen.

This recent PewdiePie thing (Google it if you're not already fucking aware) made me think a long time about what my own knee-jerk insults in the heat of anger reveal about me; certainly I've never resorted to racism even in the confines of my own head and I feel like it's mainly because it was so alien when I was forming myself; my own insecurities are the foundation of my worst automatic rage-insults & they're not especially surprising: stupid, fat, lazy, pointless - things which demonstrate unloveability which is wholly self-inflicted due to delusion or lack of effort. I think it's probably a common fear.

(no subject)

Sep. 20th, 2017 00:46
apiphile: (quite enjoying this)
[personal profile] apiphile
Also minor health concern, outside of the recurring chest tightness; non-stop bleeding from various mucus membranes.
apiphile: tom hardy as billy prior (ha bloody fucking ha)
[personal profile] apiphile
No progress on anything today! No time!

1. The squishy silicon earplugs worked a fucking TREAT and even blocked out HELL PARTNERS horrible snoring, I may just wear them all the time forever apart from the bit where they make the insides of my ears bloody wet. Anyway, I overslept by an hour so there was NO TIME FOR ANYTHING.
2. Gym was fine. Solution to energy problems apparently: put banana in your breakfast, hate everyone at the gym.
3. Found my damned RippedKit delivery shoved in the plastic bag the builders are using for post, meaning that no one can find post. But I have it now. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZO5bUch4aw/?taken-by=derekdesanges
4. Made HELLA mushroom soup. Need more mushrooms. Need time to go buy more mushrooms in. MUSHROOMS.
5. Tried to acquire more layers so I don't FREEZE tomorrow morning like I did this morning. Also this time: no eating mould.
6. Arrived to work to find HR have apologised over the gym subsidy (YES GET FUCKED); but by way of bad news I've just had a tonne of money docked for a fucking dumb mistake so I'm definitely net down and this: https://ko-fi.com/derekdesanges remains pertinent. Also being nice about my books on social media with links in the hopes that your friends buy them >:(
7. Boss: Do you want your name changed on the email system
Boss: ... Do you want me to service desk your service desk issues then
8. I should keep a record of which images make me say "I want to go home" internally
9. Speaking of which, I dreamed I'd moved to a different part of London where the branding was yellow and red. I liked it, but kept missing the dark green council stuff of my Borough. I feel more at home in Haringey than I have anywhere else which is somehow appropriate given that it's both highly intellectual and also a fucking stabby drug-addled dump.
10. Would do a murder for either warm walnut bread or rosemary ciabatta and balsamic vinegar round about now but alas, it is only week four of cutting/cardio. Two more weeks to go.

PS: Since neither of my partners will PUT COVERS ON THE BED or CLOSE A FUCKING WINDOW EVER I guess I sleep in all my clothes now

Fail from start to finish

Sep. 18th, 2017 20:50
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
"I will go to the gym."
The weather: foul
The builders: present
The energy: low despite caffeine (I think food is the answer, sigh)
"I will go to the gym in a bit."
The bed: comfortable
"I have got up and put on a t-shirt in preparation for going to the gym."
Legs: like lead
Enthusiasm: Gone
Bed: Calling.

Anyway what happened was it took me until about eleven to even force myself to go to the shop and buy vegetables, never mind any mythical "gym", and as predicted the builders insisted on interrogating me on suitcases (not ours), or as close to "interrogation" as you can get when two people speaking know literally ONE WORD of each other's languages and that word is "sorry" and neither of you are really feeling that.

Once out of the house I was too cold and too tired despite the sunshine to tackle a mere walk through the park; got the bus to Crouch End, bought loose vegetables, etc, etc, etc. Nothing of great interest. Came home again with EAR PLUGS as the builders are literally working on the wall right by my bedroom the week we're on nights. OF COURSE.

Achievement: edited and submitted the merman story to the anthology about water stuff.
Failure: couldn't even fucking nap because by the time the builders pissed off and stopped being loud Lindsay came back and snored at me.
Neutral: Finally got to read some more of my Yashim book as my brain was too reminiscent of soup to cope with research.

Oh, also the pub called me and I have a provisional booking pending me giving them a £50 deposit when they ask for it by the end of the month. So that's me birthday venue sorted.

Successfully puked up another scene on the interminably long fic I'm basically writing for Liza and Liza alone (she has strep throat now, so I suppose it constitutes a get-well present). Tragically had to miss out on going to the Kingsman II Premiere as offered by R because FUCKING WORK. But at least there's free bananas.

The Current Nonsense

I am amassing a list of pointless shit I want to own ahead of m'birthday
apiphile: (i hate that thing you love)
[personal profile] apiphile
Please feel free to overlay every description of the weekend with "Jess and Derek fought like cat and dog including when people were there, pretty much, although having people there helped them to rein it in a bit, and the cause of this was mostly Jess being UNREMITTINGLY PEDANTIC AND LITERALLY INCAPABLE OF A) HEARING ANYTHING OR B) STOPPING TALKING ONCE SHE'D STARTED WHICH WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE BUT ALL SHE DOES IS REPEAT THE SAME THING SIX HUNDRED TIMES", it saves me mentioning it any more.

SATURDAY: Knee was feeling well enough for me to do Big Cardio which is just as well as I couldn't find the battle ropes and wasn't about to go ask someone to take them out. Horrible horrible rush trying to get ready in decent time and deal with Jess's nine thousand pointless already-answered questions and refusal to be even slightly helpful about checking stuff while I literally had my hands full trying to do ten other things; Monzo card finally arrived and was christened. It is neon orange.

Got on train to Brighton eventually, looking like this, because Wedding Reception: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZGhr4Rh6k-/?taken-by=derekdesanges

It rained approximately eighty times while we were on the way down there; we had a look in some shops in the Lanes but not to any great effect (some cool things but nothing I was comfortable lugging to a fucking wedding reception/that would fit in a bag), I did buy a lapel pin that reads "It Will End In Tears" which is damningly accurate. We met up with Muffy, who was looking like this: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZG4w1lhw5B/?taken-by=derekdesanges only like, over six feet tall and armed with a cane because she is MAJESTIC. Muffy and I poked around Snoopers Attic & Snoopers Paradise in the occasional but infrequent company of Jess; we found a Chelsea Pensioner's coat (Jess: I don't like it, it's too big for you and the shoulders are puffy), a feather ruff (Stranger: THAT LOOKS AMAZING WITH YOUR HAIR; - this was yelled from the opposite end of the shop. She did not work there); a gold brocade coat (Derek: I'm wearing this to get married in; Jess: not to me you're not; Derek: Well, you got that right); and multiple old photos and slides and vaguely carnage-y antique/vintage items. Also EXODUS tins.

During this I started suffering from waves of dizziness, despair, and nausea, correctly determined that I was hungry, flagged down Jess for some food from my bag and was eventually ready to go again, at which point Jess, who never bothers to bring food with her anywhere, decided that we were going for dinner and that everyone could piss off - I talked her into going to a tiny Japanese place in the Lanes (very cheap also) so that Muffy would come as well (it was about 4.30pm, not dinner time, too early for anything including the reception and far too early for me to be left alone with Jess for more hours of her sniping and complaining at me about everything); I was coaxed/manipulated into eating bits of the dinner, ruining diet part one. We crawled away to a Costa.

(Chris posted a mug on their instagram SO GOOD that I had to show the barista as well: "NOT SORRY ABOUT YOUR FRAGILE MASCULINITY").

While we were there the entire sky fell and practically ate the street. Muffy pointed out that this had happened the last time I came to Brighton as well. "I'm not saying it's your fault, but I'm not not saying it either."

We ventured out eventually. Muffy headed for the bus; I had dinner: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZHASxRB6-0/?taken-by=derekdesanges ; we crawled slowly off to find the wedding venue, still being early; found it, walked on past down to the cold-ass seafront. Had some mussels/oysters etc. (Jess: I'll buy you an oyster; Derek: I don't like oysters: a short argument then commences???? about whether or not I don't like oysters???? BECAUSE APPARENTLY I WOULDN'T KNOW?). We walked to the pier, slightly more peacefully.

When I say the weather had no idea what it was doing I mean it: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZHJZzZhS8n/?taken-by=derekdesanges

We snuck into the wedding reception while the Best Maid was making her lengthy, rambling, cat-video-featuring speech. Found the brides, hugged the brides, sent Jess off to the bar to spend both drink tokens on prosecco for herself, spent a while eating h'ors d'oeuvres and thoroughly wrecking entire diet plan (some of them were nicely-conceived - tiny wraps of "fish" and chips with mushy pea dip was cute) while Jess repeatedly told me to stop eating; watched the cake being cut, watched a couple of the dances, snuck off home. I feel in a way that, had I gone alone as I'd initially planned to and chickened out of doing, I might have had a decent enough time and been introduced to people, definitely stayed long enough to nip over to Muffy's DJ set, or gone to Duckie on getting back to London.

However, what's done is done. I had an amaretto hot chocolate when we got back to Victoria, binged when I got back to the house (this did at least get me through some stuff I'd been trying to get rid of) and passed out.

SUNDAY: With full intention of making up for this failure, I threw serious caffeine in my face and went to town on cardio today. This worked out - I could have gone on and done some gentle running again as I did yesterday but time was running out and I have to fucking foam roller after exercise now because it stops my shittening thigh muscles pulling my knee out of alignment or something. So there was another rushed morning of preparation (I AM SICK OF THIS) and fighting with Jess (ALSO OF THIS) as a result of which I left yogurt on the side all day.

However we DID get to the station in time for coffee which is more than can be said for Fiona, who was befucked by my West Country Transport Woes again and only just managed to arrive before the start of the play by forgoing a bathroom break or any food. We fed her the remaining half of Jess's stroopwaffel and promised the existence of an interval.

This was all a bit pointless tbh as the play was ARSE. Jess was MOVED by the first act and I don't really want to get into this much but: don't try to write in Ye Olde English if you can't do it consistently within the same SPEECH AT LEAST and if you don't know how the fucking language WORKS; ration your fucking monologues; if you're going to make allusions to a current situation A) consider carefully if they're appropriate in the narrative you have created B) don't be self-indulgent with music C) don't do cheap emotional stings D) literally don't be mawkish E) learn to fucking pace your plot properly with scenes in a sensible order and when the story should end F) YOU'RE NOT SHAKESPEARE G) please stop boring me with your costume choices and actually commit to either full aesthetic or the full non-aesthetic instead of this garbagey 6th form piecemeal nonsense (however thanks for inspiring me to reconsider "not buying brass vambraces") H) Okay the Very Big Man playing the beserker was Hot and did a good job with his role I) Did I mention that you're not Shakespeare but apparently think that you are in a number of ways? BAD. Oh, and J) If you're acting with hairline mics because your actors can't project properly, please get them USED to this so that I don't get deafened during their hugging dialogue, of which there was too much. You're bad at blocking.

God it dragged. I felt guilty too because I was right in the front and I probably looked as bored as I felt, and that's not something the cast needed to deal with as the very vast majority of what I didn't like about that play was not their doing.

[In the queue beforehand I observed, bitterly, that I missed going to things with Doug. I don't want to dwell on that too much, but it used to be a lot of fun, and obviously that never happens any more. And these days there are very few male friends I get to go to things with. And I feel that absence a lot? And I feel like someone is going to come and scream at me for having that emotion, too].

I bullied Fiona and Jess over to Starbucks and had the first REASON FOR THE SEASON:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BZJXz0ShDye/?taken-by=derekdesanges (it turns out that I can squeeze a short skinny PSL into my calorie plan occasionally if not so much into my budget, ouch)

I suggested heading towards London Bridge afterwards (having spotted no less than four members of the cast heading home in various ways past the window) primarily because this was the ONE DAY I didn't bring my sunglasses (I brought my raincoat though, and needed that), and the fuckening sun would have been in my eyes had we gone any direction but east at that point. Jess decided to route-march this for reasons best known to herself; at London Bridge we very nearly had another row simply because LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE WOULD MAKE A DECISION OR ADVANCE AN OPINION ABOUT DOING ANYTHING AND I HAD PROVIDED A NORMAL NUMBER OF OPTIONS (3) AND WAS TIRED OF DOING ALL THE FUCKING THINKING; Jess decided it would be diplomatic to go home, I calmed down and Fiona and I had a nice hour or so in the George.

Now, the George in Southwark was a specific plan because A) it is a National Trust Pub from the 17th century presumably spared the Great Fire because of its position on the South Bank, and therefore Pleasantly Atmospheric and B) I had recently read that Mark Rylance's revived Twelfth Night Mumming/Combat Play company The Lion's Part take their crowd there on Twelfth Night along with the Holly Man in order to wassail and generally continue old traditions and that made it sound like a good idea. I *have* been there a couple of times before. So pleased was I (and confused by being charged 90p for a lime and soda by one bar man then 45p by the other?) that I sent them an enquiry on their website about having my birthday there. I feel like it would be SUITABLY EXTRA.

(If we ain't facebook acquainted and you therefore didn't get the invite and are reading: the party's on the 4th of November. You're invited. I'm going to be 35. I want fucking presents. LOTS of them and good ones. I am a petulant Roman Emperor. I demand ego massage.]

On the whole, I think it was a good thing I didn't exhaust myself on Saturday night but a bad thing that I've not been Out Dancing once this week.
apiphile: (quite enjoying this)
[personal profile] apiphile
Knee was no better this morning. Gym therefore did not happen, because I'm not a total idiot; However am a LAZY idiot as what with redying my hair I loafed around until at least noon before going out to do research stuff at the pub (they tolerate me even though I dress like this at one in the afternoon: https://www.instagram.com/p/BZDzE16hr7n/?taken-by=derekdesanges ; https://www.instagram.com/p/BZD6TtUB135/?taken-by=derekdesanges -- i did have a big jumper over the entire ensemble all day admittedly). Because the builders' foreman was there they actually moved the damn ladder this time. Lots of stressful bollocks relating to building work which is very boring to get into --

And unnecessary since REAL DRAMA was occurring on the other side of town, what with shit incendiaries burning a bunch of people on the train possibly just following Susanne's? Not fun. But hey, so far no casualties! A first for terrorist incidents this year. None deaths.

I think my original plan today was "library, Edith's House" but what happened was "pub, Camden" because idk, the devil. Anyway Camden was hellish; not to begin with - to begin with I just went to the Costa by the overground station and did some more research (VIRTUOUS) and headed down into Camden with the full intention of going to the Stables Market cafe and doing more research there; it was raining so I went into Sainsburys a minute, ate cold eggs standing next to a church because my "definitely going to adult sensibly and mindfully" campaign still hasn't quite gotten off the ground yet, did a HARD HATE all the way up Camden high street and kind of just... meandered around a lot. There's a shop that sells RAF uniforms for I think roughly £50 for the whole thing. There's another that sells several items of North African / Berber jewellery I desperately want but have nowhere to wear. I accidentally bought a pair of TINY ORANGE CORDUROY BOOTY SHORTS WITH POCKETS to go with that heinous crop top and let me tell you that paired with the right accessories I look truly noxious. I found a place called Metal Rooster which sells some pretty Nice Soft Drapey stuff I would wear would I still doing the Mori Boy thing. What I did not do, Internet, was go and do research; Jess texted me to tell me the builders were gone so I picked up a coffee and some free cake samples and fucked my way back off home again.

Apparently even with a fucked knee I can still do cardio - Abbi says "battle ropes" (ten minutes of which, and I guarantee I cannot do that, will do me for an acceptable number of calories. I MAY be able to manage rowing although that does involve bending my knee. I CAN do fast small weight arm exercises. Somehow this will have to do).

(I just got a message from the magazine people saying their accountant is in the office on Wednesday and they'll send me the money then so apparently they mean this? Will wait and see. Speaking of money: no sign of the Monzo card. Bit worrying).

quick order one of these t-shirts or other products with this design before this stupid website decides they're a copyright infringement or something.

(no subject)

Sep. 14th, 2017 20:15
apiphile: (a story where you go eat a dick)
[personal profile] apiphile
steadily losing patience with the builders on the stairs who are also losing patience with us, because we have to go in and out of our own flat more than once a day.

went to the gym; they were setting up. tried to have a good gym but due to smaller breakfast/worse sleep/forgetting caffeine pill wasn't feeling it. decided to take it easy on the crosstrainer and carry on as normal with everything else, which seemed to be an acceptable tactic with no drawbacks apart from the small insistent voice muttering "lazy", right up until i got on the seated cycle and after approximately 15 seconds just above my knee something that was not a muscle began to feel distinctly Not Good. I bargained with myself - was meant to do 20 minutes and a cooldown and did two minutes and the mounting sense that stopping was a good idea (despite not being in howling pain which is normally how I work out that i'm not "making it up to get out of it"); stopped for coffee on the way home ("Haven't seen you in a while," said EXTREMELY PREGNANT barista/cafe owner. / "YOU were on holiday," I said, "which I hope you spent sitting down." / "Absolutely," she said, "two weeks by the pool without moving. Brilliant!"; lord why are you still at work you are practically having that baby RIGHT NOW); struggled past the builders.

[An aside, there was post behind the door and some of the post - thank god I found it because there was NONE POST when I returned from the gym - turned out to be a letter from Charing Cross, who have NOT removed me from their books, asking me to come in for an appointment at a mildly inconvenient hour in November, but since they're only on the other side of London that is at least feasible, unlike Exeter trying to get me to show up at 10am. So there's that I guess. No sign of the post I wanted and was expecting and am slightly worried about though].

Left the flat again after a while, armed with tablet and reference book so I could do research out of the house and not have to deal with the stairs so much which turned out to be a good thing because they wouldn't move the fucking ladder, ignored me asking them to, and when I finally squeezed around it the stairs were also covered in a nice thick slippery layer of wallpaper so I had a TIME not actually breaking my fucking neck. Decision - as I stomped up the hill to my dentist's appointment looking like a post-apocalyptic junkie vampire again - was taken at this point that I wasn't going back until they'd fucked off as at least they pack up when they go home.

Dentist: also a building site, hilariously enough, although a much more friendly one. Site foreman chatting amiably about having to take one of his workers down to the Indian High Commission already today. Dentist - not the scary Italian lady this time, she's gone part-time - said my teeth are absolutely fine, "Whatever you're going, keep doing it," and gave them a clean and polish to deal with the tartar on the backs ("Everyone gets this, it's basically unavoidable", and GOD DAMN I hate cleanings there they are so horrible I'd literally rather get a filling a sochaiousch); meanwhile Lindsay has to pay £500 to get his crown fixed, so I think I stole all the good dental karma.

Went to Wetherspoons to do research (why is it so hard why am I so filled with panic why don't I have enough material why is it nearly September already why is none of this useful) and twiddle the outline a little bit, also to eavesdrop on two people having a very serious suited-and-booted conversation about Professionalism over a table. In Wetherspoons. Guys. It's the middle of the afternoon and you're in W E T H E R S P O O N S. Anyway, walked down the hill to Kimura (Japanese deli) for more tuna sashimi because it's EASY FAST RELIABLE TASTY PROTEIN; went into town to collect a replacement for my lost mushrooms and check out the clearance sale at the old Japan Centre and also, to, um, go buy a knee pad for my intermittently Unhappy knee.

Literally everything is exhausting, also the people in front of me in the queue at the old JPC pipped me to the last of the ice so I couldn't even have the sneaky snow cone I was going to cheat on my diet with, I am made of sulk; Boots made up for it as they've started selling bags of edamame (well, at Piccadilly Circus Boots anyway) like the standard Tesco Carrot Snack Pack size or whatever and they have their no-calorie cream soda and that's also nice. Walked down to the NEW JPC, was personally victimised by the existence of yet more attractive men in tight hoodies, checked with Lindsay to see if the builders had fucked off, and began making my way home --

Somewhat spoiled by some prize dickheads on the escalators at Leicester Square; I thought the man they were patting on the back as he walked past was a friend but he didn't react to them (two wankers in blue suits with slicked back hair who thought everything was hilarious); they made some sort of comment when I was passing as well (yes I am wearing sunglasses indoors my eyes hurt also it's none of your business) but as I was listening to excellent TORTURE PORN PODFIC I couldn't really hear them over the sound of a sexual sadist trying real hard not to sexmurder someone.

Once again arrived home exhausted and OH I SHOULD ALSO MENTION

So this apparently legit or at least claiming to be associated with this legit (German-language) magazine asked me if they could use my photos from my Kintsugi article for a piece they were doing on the practice and I off-handedly said I prefer to be paid for my work in money rather than exposure, they said 100EU, I said sure, they said, send us an invoice with your bank details. I found a template when I got home (this conversation being conducted via FB messages on my House of D account while I was out so not really able to draw one up there and then) and drew up an invoice. When it came to putting in my bank details I went "hang on ein minuten, I have no idea who you are", checked, found her profile was locked, and decided that rather than being openly suspicious at her I would just hedge my bets. So she has been sent one invoice with "bank details: I prefer transactions to be completed via this paypal address"; conclusion, if they're legit they give me 100EU in my paypal; if they're not they can't take any money off me.

I will spare you food and food rage details, and only mention that I still haven't put the thing on my knee and every time I move my damn knee it hurts so I'm going to go put the thing on my knee now and hope I can actually go to the gym tomorrow, aka THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK WHEN I HAVEN'T HAD TO DO SO IN A RUSH.
apiphile: (henry scott tuke)
[personal profile] apiphile
Weather 1. Bright and cold. Derek walks to the gym slightly later than the asscrack of dawn that he went there yesterday, and confirms with a second independent test that arakbullar are the way to make a workout go well. A bit more effort involved this time, and thus hopefully more calories menaced. I have given up on fucks about making odd noises while working out, everyone else does it. While in the supermarket getting gloop for my new tattoos (New tattooist: "Don't use Bepanthen on it"; me, internally: my entire ass is what you can eat), while so sweaty that I smelled like a gymnasium urinal and had turned my t-shirt black and my face puce, a man who looked like 14-year-old me's conception of perfect masculine attractiveness, like a better-proportioned young Julian Sands, wandered past me looking vaguely confused and upset, because I am not allowed to look at nice things unless I personally look like floor sweepings.

tattoos: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY_KqgDBtKo/?taken-by=derekdesanges

Weather 2. Wind from the pits, still sunny-ish. Foul time-management and rushing were counteracted by good train luck. I arrived looking like a junkie pirate vampire thing in Caffe Nero and put more coffee into my head before flopping melodramatically over a table outside to wait for Holly. She arrived and bequeathed me an Illamasqua gold cream eyeshadow, which I consider to be a good omen. We went to the Museum of London and wandered through various exhibits while I bollocked on inconclusively and kept interrupting myself to change subjects - you know, the usual Derek Experience my friends mysteriously tolerate. Impolitely scarfed down an entire cucumber (shut up I'm normal and pack normal food in my bag) while Holly answered nature's call. Definitely didn't look weird. At all. Anyway, we couldn't find the London Stone on first cursory pass, so I went and asked at the information desk and then spent ten minutes trying to decipher the instructions I'd been given. More by luck than by obedience we found it, and I promptly got told off for eating in the galleries (whoops); https://www.instagram.com/p/BY-4Rtuh6U4/?taken-by=derekdesanges

(previously on The Museum of London: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY-1j54hOtg/?taken-by=derekdesanges A good Genderfluid Idol; Vampire Fireman Looks: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY-1p6jhejy/?taken-by=derekdesanges ; no photo alas of me looking Good in leather jerkin but accept it on trust that I did)

Weather 3. As we were about to leave dancing spotty raindrops began to fall. "Oh," said I, "I shall put my jumper on."

By the time I had it was hurling an entire sea onto the pavement. We retreated back into the Museum. A Customer Experience Survey man (called "Johnethan" according to his improbable name tag; very camp, quite Scottish) asked if we wanted to fill out a survey which would take "about seven minutes". Well, we said: it's not like we're going anywhere.

Weather 4. By the time the thing had finished, so had the rain. The skies were sheepishly bright again. We took the train to Goodge Street because, having seen the First Public Urinal in the Victorian Walk in the museum, I wanted to show Holly The Attendant, the cafe in Gentlemen's Conveniences.

Weather 5. Spitting rain. We walked hastily down Great Titchfield Street, bellowing in tandem about horrible men who think they're allowed to pick up women in gyms. ("DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ANYONE IN THE GYM THAT'S NOW WHAT YOU'RE THERE FOR" I yelled at the side of a car) The Attendant was closed for refurbishment; we went back to the Scandinavian Kitchen for tea. Well, tea eventually. I had to go around the shop maddeningly slowly and buy crap (Crap: box of purple, tube of bacon cheese, jar of liquorice dust, vacuum pack bag of fish discs. None of these are made-up). But there was also tea.

Weather 6. Overcast. We walked down to the Japan Centre, the NEW MASSIVE JAPAN CENTRE, because I am a forgetful Derek and do not remember that other people think "perhaps we should take the tube". This did afford us the capability for me to grab some matcha from Tombo so I think on the whole it was a moral victory if not one for Holly's feet.

Weather 7. We enter the JPC in bright, bright blue skies. "You wouldn't think," said Holly, "it was shitting rain like that less than an hour ago." The JPC is big but there seems to my eye to be less stock or less variety in stock. The seating area is bigger. The sushi shelves had been cleaned the fuck out; managed to find some tuna sashimi to deal with protein deficit and also bought a load of Crap including a jar of yuzu wine and two different types of dried mushroom. There was an origami class going on beside us when I sat down to put sashimi into my head. Yes, I am aware I've had sashimi twice this week. We went down to Charing Cross to meet Susanne, then to the pubbe to feed Susanne and also Holly (and slightly me; I am vexed by my lack of self-restraint and also the price of lime and soda in that place) and to compare keychains for some reason that escapes me.

Weather 8. Raining again, but we're inside. The skies are still blue. Fox wedding; unlucky to be outside. Better stay and have another drink. Sent Holly and Susanne off to wrestle their feline overlord, struggled - STRUGGLED PHYSICALLY LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE - home to the soup I'd had the presence of mind to stick in the slow cooker before I went out, mindful that I wasn't going to have my shit together. While wearing sunglasses underground and several layers, because I am NOT a junkie vampire but I AM cold and my eyes hurt.

TOMORROW: Dentist (ugh), and pray god some actual research and probably I should look over my outline again what with it being September already (HOW AND WHEN).

Tuesday has been rather long.

Sep. 12th, 2017 21:46
apiphile: (did it on purpose)
[personal profile] apiphile
This is because I got up at the cleft of dawn's arse in order to go to the gym, but the weather was nice (if cold), my hypnotics + pro plus + swedish pastry breakfast fuelled me, and lo, I had a very good if probably completely useless in terms of fitness workout. I *had* enough time to get home, shower, and go to the tattooist, but then Morrisons KICKED ME IN THE DICK with massive queues and I missed the bus and had to walk; raced through showering etc and got my shit together, struggled out of the door, got lucky with the bus, RACED up the hill and arrived on the dot of on time.

This guy is Very Professional and makes you sign waivers and health questionnaires like Cold Steel do for piercings and like Biko absolutely has never bothered to; risible and predictable taste in art aside he was pleasant enough and good at his job, it took under an hour, I have new tattoos which I will photograph tomorrow when they're not covered in blood and ink bleed-out.

Being in Crouch End I decided to make the most of the greengrocers & fishmongers etc and went Fully Overboard, so now I have loads of veg, spices, and herbs. Walked halfway home; got back and decided in a fit of procrastination to reorganise the spice shelf, which is already a disaster, and also in decanting and rationalising some spices I have successfully made the entire kitchen smell incredible. Briefly, at least.

TRIED to get my shit together to do research. In actual fact I ended up having an Anger Nap for an hour because I couldn't drag myself out of the house. Tried again after talking to Jess for a bit and couldn't manage it then either, so remained where I was and bullied myself through half an hour of notes on London mythology which GUESS WHAT wasn't even remotely bad why the fuck was I procrastinating oh yeah intense tiredness.

Walked up the hill to see Limehouse Golem with Linds. Coupla things: The Everyman is PROHIBITIVELY EXPENSIVE but incredibly beautiful - Deco AF and the inside is really swank and Deco as well, they've got a whole theme going and I can see why they tout it as a place for drinks (honestly fuck going to see films there, apart from the fact you don't get seats, you get SOFAS); we had the cinema entirely to ourselves until right at the end of the ads (the only trailer that looked remotely acceptable was the Death of Stalin and I wouldn't PAY to see it); the movie itself was fine, entertaining, some hilarious mismatches between the interiors and exteriors of buildings [THAT IS NOT WHAT THE READING ROOM AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM LOOKS LIKE OR HAS EVER LOOKED LIKE IT'S A NEOCLASSICAL BUILDING IT DOES NOT HAVE GOTHIC REVIVAL INTERIORS], as always with British movies Everyone ™ was in it (Douglas Booth, who I'd been nervous about, was very very good; I recognised Daniel Mays but couldn't remember his name - saw him recently in I think "Against the Law", playing another wobbly-chinned historical gay), turns out Jane Goldman did the adaptation so it was Okay, and contained thanks to the source material many things that are Relevant to my Interests. Also my London history reading is paying off because I knew all the damn references.

DOWNSIDE: I left my LOVELY arm warmers, the ones Liza HANDSPUN AND KNITTED for me, in the cinema. I have called the national customer services since you can't call individual cinemas, and they've emailed some surprisingly detailed details to the cinema so I can go back and collect them from lost property tomorrow, hopefully.

here is my make up: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY8PHdNB4dc/?taken-by=derekdesanges
here are my meals:

(Also I had one of the Punsch-rolls (arrakrulle) Lindsay brought me back from Malmö which I strongly suggest you google as they're BANGING)

TOMORROW: Gym my dick off, try to force myself to do more research somehow, no more fucking Anger Naps, seeing Holly to go look at the London Stone and check out the GRAND OPENING of the new Japan Centre.

okay here are all the drama

Sep. 11th, 2017 16:29
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
1. "I will go home and then immediately go to the gym before picking up my parcels from the post office" Lol no, I will go home, sleep for two hours, pick up my parcels from the post office.
2. Waitrose requires that someone verify your free coffee at the till, which you can't do if the person is farting around doing nothing, so I sat on the till until someone came and did it.
3. UNEXPECTED BLOOD TEST; if I'd realised I was going to be doing that pre-injection I wouldn't have eaten a pear but the nurse went "uh, we can reschedule for later in the week" NO WE WILL JUST TAKE THE BLOOD NOW "well the fasting element is only for the mumble and that's not as important as the hormones"; can't find a tournaquet; took the tournaquet off too early and RAN OUT OF BLOOD
4. Ass needle
5. Renew prescription of man juice for my ass
6. Staggered home and tried to rouse Jess so we could go for sushi because my Id is driving the car today; while I was nagging her I did useful things like "wash last night's dishes", "write diary" and-
7. Checked for the alleged parcel allegedly delivered by Hermes last night; no sign of it with the hairdressers. Went on Live Chat with Hermes who militantly won't let you phone anyone; after six iterations of explaining the fucking problem they referred me to the retailler who sold me the thing; I then tried to call their helpline which isn't working, sent them a pissy message on Facebook, then an actual help ticket; while I was waiting for them to deal with that Hermes, having gotten wind of the fact they might be in trouble, mysteriously managed to deliver the package they'd "already" delivered.


8. Jess insisted on taking a photo of the present that Amy sent me which customs held hostage for the fee of nearly half the value of the fucking G I F T: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY5fCuKhfkw/?taken-by=derekdesanges (posting this on instagram got me thirst-follows from muscle boys, I am so proud)
9. Staggered gamely to the bus and on to Atari-Ya: https://www.instagram.com/p/BY5nsQgh4mT/?taken-by=derekdesanges god I love sashimi. I managed to hold off on just buying a tray of hot rice and emptying it into my face and thank god, because that meal and the spare nirgi came to CALORIE AMOUNT REDACTED SHUT UP
10. We stopped in Muswell Hill to wander around, following my stream of unceasing invective about what absolute cunts live there (Jess, having worked there for two? three? years agreed even more fully, but was having pay/employment rights drama via email and thus only half-listening); I love the free-running produce weight things in Planet Organic (like bag-your-own-veg but for dried goods basically; i refuse to be constrained by how much some packaging wank thinks I ought to buy at once and also paper bags are better for the environment, etc), then had a small fight in Costa because ONE person had decided apropos of nothing that she wanted to go home immediately.

(no subject)

Sep. 11th, 2017 11:49
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile

(no subject)

Sep. 11th, 2017 04:05
apiphile: tom hardy as billy prior (ha bloody fucking ha)
[personal profile] apiphile
Do we all think landscapes shape the characters of the people who live in them?

September 2011

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