“Everything You Know” is a novel by Zoe Heller: one I’m currently reading and which contains a lot of home truths. I’ve also recently read “Thoughts From a Hospital Bed” by Bruce AJ (Alexander Julius) Francis.
The latter is a book of poetry, given to me and signed by the author, who happened upon me in my usual evening resting place: the waiting rooms at Tonbridge rail station. He was waiting for a train home to Wateringbury – where I used to live – and I asked where he lived: my old house as it turns out.
The last couple of days have been busy. I’ve been to various organisations, sorting out benefits and housing. The latter depends on the former, so it’s all a bit chicken and egg and jumping through hoops. Again.
I’ve been accused of being self-indulgent in my recent posts: this is my coping mechanism though.
I submit that my current situation is my fault, of my making and not that of my parents, family, ex-wife, ex-fiance or ex-girlfriend. I want them all back; I want my life back. But this is of my making, not theirs and I’m sorting it out. I’ve made my bed. And I’ve been told on the one hand that I need to be selfish but on the other, I am too selfish: this is me, thinking about me and not of me.
Bruce (Alexander Julius) Francis gave me money for food: I spent it on a new notebook and a pen; he would approve.
In other news, I’m now “The Daddy” of The Bush Gang. I know the boys are reading, so I thought I’d drop them a mention: alright chaps? We have work to do.
Another mention goes to all those whom I’ve met; most recently Miranda and Jack and Cassandra: they drew rather nice pictures in my new notepad and it’s inspired me to write the story which I know is inside me; fiction of course.
Always honest; always with my heart on my sleeve.
Everything You Know.