My flat was on the top floor so above it there was a loft. Strictly speaking I wasn’t supposed to enter the loft, but I had a lot of junk and nowhere for it to go. It wasn’t as if I had to break in, the loft entrance was in my hallway, all I had to do was get a stepladder climb up and open the loft hatch. It wasn’t locked. I felt I’d be a fool not to use all that empty space, criminal almost given the shortage of space in London. So I started putting boxes up there, I had to be careful because not all the loft floor was boarded. Going through the middle was a rather odd brick wall, it only went halfway to the roof and didn’t meet the walls on either side, but it was very neatly built and kept half of the loft hidden from me, I dared not look behind it.
I must admit the whole loft made me feel uncomfortable, like an uninvited guest, a trespasser. It was very warm up there, the air was close and had a sickly sweet smell like the smell of sweat on someone who is standing far too close. Though in this case it definitly felt like I was the intruder on personal space.
After my initial desire to unpack and put things away I forgot about the things in the loft. It became a bit of a black spot, I would rather buy a new item than venture back up there. The banging began about a month or so after I’d moved into the flat. It came from the loft and it wasn’t just banging, there was scratching, whining, mumbling, squealling, and talking. It would happen a lot at night. I lay in my bed looking up at the ceiling, considering the situation of my soul, and I noticed there was a tiny hole just above my bed, big enough for someone to put an eye up close against it and look down.
Friday 28th May 2010. Hot passion is what my star sign promises for the coming month, but, it says, I musn’t initiate anything myself, I must wait. So I’m waiting…
In the meantime I’m drawing illustrations for Erotic Review magazine, and discussing my darkest fantasies with the Acid Panda on the W3 bus to White Hart Lane. My star sign also says I musn’t reveal any secrets this month so I’m not telling you any dark fantasies right now. The Acid Panda is Anarchistwood‘s depraved drummer. The first time I ever saw her she was on stage naked except for a fine layer of chocolate sauce. She tells me drummers come in two types, the sober straight laced type and the Animal. Acid Panda definitely leans towards the Animal side. Rude Mechanicals are borrowing her for this Sundays gig at Inn on the Green, Ladbroke grove, where we will be playing with Anarchistwood and loads of other really good bands. It’s all free so if you’re around come along, it starts at 4 and is bound to be sinful and warped!
Lynda Beast may be returning for this gig. It is rumoured that Stanley Bad has had a nasty accident with a razor (Miss Roberts denies all allergations). Which reminds me I must do that chocolate eating video I said I would do to prove I can be far more sexy with a bar of chocolate than Stanley, who was mere vile flotsam.
On the subject of fortune telling and fate I had a vivid dream last night where I was in a windowless room with Scooby Doo. I think I dreamt this because yesterday I’d been talking about what sort of dog I should get with Cos and Dylan. I’m going to Battersea Dogs Home next wednesday to look for a dog. Also on Tuesday Tommy G was singing the theme tune from Scooby Doo in rehearsal. He always sings that, some kind of minor malfunction which we havn’t corrected yet due to it being mildly endearing. Though it does remind me a bit of 2001 Space Odyssey where HAL’s logic is completely gone and he begins singing the song “Daisy Bell“.
In the dream I was talking to Scooby when he turned into china and became covered in a black and yellow zig zag pattern. Although this made a nice ornament it wasn’t very good to talk to. Then the china cracked and Scooby Doo crumpled into tiny pieces on the floor. I had to sweep the pieces up with a dust pan and brush, but I wasn’t unhappy about it because inside the china Scooby had been the real Scooby Doo all along. Is that dream telling me I need to get a large brown daft dog that will break all my china? I also keep having dreams where I’m two people which is hard work because all decisions have to be made twice, so nothing much happens in the dream. Do dreams and stars decide our future? Are they at the meeting table putting forward proposals and budgets as I write this? Are they in the end just knocked into towing the party line by the whip of fate, and whose side is he on?