run

Every morning before work I have this bizzare routine i.e. I'm a head case blah blah blah. Let me literally walk you through it:

I get up and shower whatever, that's not important. I walk to the bus stop which is around the corner from my house and sometimes it's right there and I think that I'm lucky, but sometimes I need to wait for ten minutes which is about the same amount of time it would take for me to walk to the tube but I'm lazy. And just as we're about to the turn the corner of the roudabout, right before my stop I think "what would happen if I just stayed on the bus" (I like just sitting) but then it stops and I get off because I'm boring. I get on Victoria line at Highbury and Islington, and usually allow pushy people to billow past me even though I'm in equal rush, but they're c-u-n-ts and yes I spell it out in my head as I am pushed, it makes me feel better about my helpless situation. I get on the tube, sometimes sweaty, sometimes empty. I still don't understand why there isn't any congruence between days. If it's sweaty I pray it won't stop in the tunnel like it did that fateful day around three weeks ago, and if it's quiet, I again pray it won't stop in the tunnel. Sometimes I think that I"m going to be early for work, then we get stopped at Euston station for 10 minutes and I'm perfectly on time for work. Anyway, I get off a Oxford circus and take the street exit. And as I'm riding the escalator up to exit, I always think about riding the tube drunk, this is because of the star wars posters everywhere and I know one of the jedi's personally and Chris, Tet and I rode the tube drunk once and haha, a storm trooper poster was looking straight at us, and we thought haha, that's our friend, but really, he's a jedi, not a stormtrooper. And Heman is in this week's Time Out, being a jedi. He's a prize!! Ok, I'm really silly which paralys into point two. Chris just came in and interrupted me with his guitar playing and now I'm blasting new Interpol through headphones and I will eventually go deaf because of him and my 17 year old lifestyle which consisted of Alexisonfire every other night. Really, this all parlays into my final point. Ok, so I'm exiting and thinking about riding the tube drunk at 8:45am, but then I think about the impending work that I have to do, and the things that I forgot to do the day before which are rarely anything because I'm angelic. And as I'm walking to the office from Oxford circus, well, really I"m on argyle st. now and don't have to walk along the busy bits, but I passed Liberty today which was having it's flowers delivered and I wanted a bouquet of stolen roses for myself! But I was good and kept walking but thought about if others thought I looked like a suspicious character but then ultimately decided that clearly I don't because every time I've gone to a gig and they search everyone else's bag, mine is never searched because I have one of those faces, those faces with chubby cheeks and perfect teeth i.e. a good samaritan. So I'm on Regent st. now and it's not too busy but buses come from different directions and I pretend that if I lived on near Clapham Common I would take the 88 to work, as well as Camden, I would take the C2 etc. Now I'm on Conduit after crossing Regent well, J walking which can usually be really easy but today there were scary motorcycles. So I'm now walking down Conduit thinking about mildly profound things, profound for 8:50am. It's more about my physical appearance and if I'm dressed well that day, my hair and the weird way it blows now that I have fringe, my smell, if I sweated out of my mascara which I day throughout the day anyway. And I see business men who are exceptionally well dressed in London and they carry umbrellas even when it isn't raining and I pass Vivienne Westwood where there's always a crowd of people who stand outstand because the woman who is in charge, not Vivienne herself, although her and I have discussed brownies (we actually really have!) is always late. And I think my walk is moderately uninspired, and then I trip. Today I tripped because the shoes I was wearing a a titch too big, and I hit a pothole but I don't even care, and slightly smile because it's a funny way to break this inner monologue that happens in my head everyday now! and I think that these smartly dressed men look at me to see my reaction, but I have none other than that was sort of funny, but let's see if I'll remember it later today, which evidently I did, so maybe it's a bigger deal than I had initially thought since I'm dwelling on it now and defending my reaction right now, and my reaction then. And then I turn the corner at Burberry and I arrive at the office and I turn off my monologue and head upstairs and am the essence of PR.

But this inner monologue is the strangest thing but I'm thinking maybe it will stop once they change the advertising on the escalators up, but if that happens and it doesn't exist, I will cherish those 15 minutes in my head because those are my only minutes until just after 6pm when I tube home, which strangely enough, doesn't consist of an inner monologue, mostly the repetition of fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck c-u-n-t