[transcribed from a notebook I took with me to Manchester]
Railway tracks dissect our concrete desert, and trees perch in islands. Glass is broken and brickwork is dirty, cars and people and stores fly past now blurring. I can feel my belly hollowing in, you can't eat properly on this stuff. We're travelling past fields now, fences and green, rivers shining in the low winter sun. I smell of cigarettes. I've smoked too many in the last two days. For some reason it doesn't seem to matter anymore. I have pills in my bag. Clouds float on water. Reflections like paintings, beauty. I'm still half fucked from the bottle of DXM I drank yesterday. In the quiet carriage of the train, it feels like a library. Warm and safe and peaceful. I feel so calm and hollow. This feels like the end. There is still so much green grass in the world, although some is hidden under snow. The sun is just an orange glow and trees stand stark silhouettes.
Depart.
Waiting for the next train, in a deep cutting which feels like a canyon. Between the cafe and the high stone wall, the people are quiet and the air is cool. It smells of caves and no sunlight. Green moss grows.
This train is crowded. People everywhere. Orwellian announcement: 'A full ticket check will now take place. Please have your tickets nd travel documents available for inspection.' The woman's voice is damn scary. I thought I was dying earlier, but a bit of food was all that I needed. Easy to let blood sugar fall too far. I don't know how long this train ride is. Everything in here is purple, chairs, tables, floor. Outside are snowfields reflecting the twilight back at us. Great hills on the skyline, the sky streaked with pink. Rooks fly around their messy nests, black scraps of life. Existence. This is wild country now. Hamlets and farmhouses, stands of trees and the high hills surrounding it all, cutting it off from the real world. Us on this train, sealed in with our laptops and electric lights, we are aliens to the small leaves and dry branches. We are lost.
I've got here. City full of lights and people, a big cold place where we are all much smaller. First pub I saw, I'm in it. Traditional style, painted-on character, all cheery and full of the half dead. I'm drinking cider on my own and quite hilariously out of place. I can watch all of these people as they relax and unwind after a week of work. I can never relax or unwind. Or work, for that matter. Must look a little odd sat here writing. At least they ignore me.
Everyone here looks the same. Jeans and shirts, suits and shirts, same attitude, same manner, same laughs. I need some cigarettes, I'm running out already. This is dificult. I'm in a totally unknown place, alone. I've never done this before. Always there was somebody to follow, somebody more likely to know the way. Now I have to rely on myself. I can feel cider in my brain already. This is going to be a fucking weird night, I can tell. When I've finished my drink, I'm going to walk. The longer I sit here, the more odd looks I attract. This is not a place for girls, let alone pink haired ones. Men outnumber women by about ten to one, it feels like a gentleman's club. I am a weirdo. Not even taken any pills yet, but I'm sure they will help the situation hugely.
Oh, I love cider. So sweet and refreshing, it slips straight onto the brain. Oh my. An old man just stared at me for five minutes straight. He looks like he's going to burst into tears, or attack. Fun times. I'd forgotten how being a bit unusual looking changed things so. I'm drinking faster now, this place has nothing for me. Everyone is in their groups, talking boring, old, done. Drink almost finished, nearly time to move out, chance my luck and sense of direction in the real world. Or at least until I find another pub.
This train is crowded. People everywhere. Orwellian announcement: 'A full ticket check will now take place. Please have your tickets nd travel documents available for inspection.' The woman's voice is damn scary. I thought I was dying earlier, but a bit of food was all that I needed. Easy to let blood sugar fall too far. I don't know how long this train ride is. Everything in here is purple, chairs, tables, floor. Outside are snowfields reflecting the twilight back at us. Great hills on the skyline, the sky streaked with pink. Rooks fly around their messy nests, black scraps of life. Existence. This is wild country now. Hamlets and farmhouses, stands of trees and the high hills surrounding it all, cutting it off from the real world. Us on this train, sealed in with our laptops and electric lights, we are aliens to the small leaves and dry branches. We are lost.
I've got here. City full of lights and people, a big cold place where we are all much smaller. First pub I saw, I'm in it. Traditional style, painted-on character, all cheery and full of the half dead. I'm drinking cider on my own and quite hilariously out of place. I can watch all of these people as they relax and unwind after a week of work. I can never relax or unwind. Or work, for that matter. Must look a little odd sat here writing. At least they ignore me.
Everyone here looks the same. Jeans and shirts, suits and shirts, same attitude, same manner, same laughs. I need some cigarettes, I'm running out already. This is dificult. I'm in a totally unknown place, alone. I've never done this before. Always there was somebody to follow, somebody more likely to know the way. Now I have to rely on myself. I can feel cider in my brain already. This is going to be a fucking weird night, I can tell. When I've finished my drink, I'm going to walk. The longer I sit here, the more odd looks I attract. This is not a place for girls, let alone pink haired ones. Men outnumber women by about ten to one, it feels like a gentleman's club. I am a weirdo. Not even taken any pills yet, but I'm sure they will help the situation hugely.
Oh, I love cider. So sweet and refreshing, it slips straight onto the brain. Oh my. An old man just stared at me for five minutes straight. He looks like he's going to burst into tears, or attack. Fun times. I'd forgotten how being a bit unusual looking changed things so. I'm drinking faster now, this place has nothing for me. Everyone is in their groups, talking boring, old, done. Drink almost finished, nearly time to move out, chance my luck and sense of direction in the real world. Or at least until I find another pub.
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