right now, time for water and listening to a dead man's voice

it's wrong, but it's interesting in a way. i've been studying french with the Michel Thomas CD course, acquired through certain unnamed contacts at the cost of a return tube fare to Oxford Circus (£3.50 ish). which is not bad. still, he is dead now, and that freaks me out. the fact that i'm listening to, and worse interacting with a being that no longer inhabits this, or indeed any physical dimension, is disturbing. what else can i tell you? i did actually tear a door off its hinges today. less satisfying than you'd think. once again subject to the blood sugar demon, which ruined my relationship for about five hours, after which something clicked, we both realised we were going mad for no reason at all, and we got the bus down to Dalston for a really good meal. i'll probably need another one later. if i'm destined to stay up late, i may as well make myself useful.

this is just really really annoying me. i know i should just grit my teeth and wait for him to leave, but the fact is, he's my only link to what this house originally was, and he's so unreliable that i'll probably never see him again. which would be shit. then again, at least it means i won't have to deal with his inability to wash up. let me clarify that- it is both an inability and an incompetence. on the rare occasions that he does actually do it, he actually doesn't do it. so what was dry and dirty, is now wet and dirty. and when it dries, i put it back in the bowl. it's passive aggressive, it's childish, and because he doesn't know it's still his, because his actions have severed the implicit link between washing up as a symbol, and washing up as an accomplished activity involving the transformation of crockery from a state of dirt to one of cleanliness, it isn't as if it will achieve anything, given that he just can't do it. BUT IT MAKES ME SO MAD! grrrr.

other than everything, i'm fine

having tried for far too long to live with other people, i realised there's no point. it's awful to have to admit the truth, but in a way it's a relief. hell really is other people. so, short of becoming a serial killer, and that would just be too much effort, and would get dull in the end- I'm going to become an anchorite, a hermit, a recluse. not entirely, just in any meaningful way. the world, such as it is, such is my inability and impotence when it comes to effecting anything other than affectation, can go suck its own bumhole. it probably already does. and what difference will this grand gesture of non-involvement make? what will this admission of defeat accomplish? aside from having nobody else to moan at or clean up after, probably not a lot. i'd give it a week, and i'll be accosting complete strangers just to get some kind of feedback. not that this is a serious proposition. that would involve being serious. please.

so if it's here, where is it?

yes. here is the payoff. cd 4 of the michel thomas advanced french CD, by which time i can use 19 tenses in another language. 19!that's more than i thought existed in english. it's terrifying really. because of this course i am in the unique state of inverted communication skill, where i can actually say more than i can hear. i'll have to practise listening to people in order that my ears can catch up with my mouth. which, yes, okay, will require my not being alone all the time. i'll just have to move to france. quelle domage. or is it dommage?