squirmelia | London, mainly, last weekend (Reply)

I bathe and bubblewrap floats above my submerged skin.

I watch a film about Derrida, contemplate deconstructionism and influenced by Derrida, I also wonder about Heidegger's sex life.

I see models of strange looking buildings, and architecture plans as wallpaper, looking like crazed patterns, glowing in the UV lights. I walk over cities that are covering the floors.

I finally find Believer magazine, and it's marked as a "Graphic novel".

I also find David Foster Wallace's infinity book, and the "IYI" acronym appears in my head for the rest of the day, but I don't buy the book, because my relationship with mathematical equations has gone all screwy.

I see St Paul's and it is glowing, but not as much as the sun at the weather exhibition, which I go and see again, and lie down on the floor, because it makes me feel calm.

I pin a yellow and pink tail onto someone, and it's the tail I wore when I dressed as a Yink for Halloween.

I realize that these moments won't last long and wish I could see these people more.

I take a sip of a garlic shot, by mistake.

Someone leaves because someone sets fire to their hair three times.

I think I dance along the street, holding onto people, which I always seem to do when I drink too much.

I see part of the code for a BBS that I use and wonder if that makes it seem less real.

I don't sleep that night, but remember a quaker parrot flying over me.

The person who I am sitting next to, sits really close.

I look for an inter-generational lesbian couple, and a guy wearing a skirt and an Invisibles badge.

I find myself in another situation where I think my conversational skills would improve if I had read some Harry Potter slash, even though I'm still not contemplating reading any Harry Potter.

I win a maze game thingy and read out part of someone's Nanowrimo novel and it's good, but sad, and I wonder if it was footnotes, but then I find out that it is real.

Someone reads out a bit of my novel and people seem to laugh and I can't remember whether it was supposed to be funny or not.

I realize how much I miss people who write.

I bump into the person I had pinned the tail to the day before and contemplate going to Devon with them because my train home is so delayed.