the creature formerly known as glis (gliserine) wrote,
the creature formerly known as glis

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Hotel du vin - what, erm, dreams are made of. Memory works in such funny ways.

On Friday evening Tabs and I joined George's workmates in a pub. It must have been the only time that the girls outnumbered the guys, which must have been what I had been wishing for for whole months. By some wicked twist of fate though, this particular climax wife, who to my surprise recognised me and claimed to have met me before (and I thought I never forget faces! heh) reminded me so much of Kake. George agrees on the similarities, he says they both convey some type of vibrant enthusiasm about anything and everything going on around them. Which they do, apart from when they're down.

The whole group wound down to Ship street, to keep her company, have a smoke and satisfy our curiosity concerning the hotel and the suite she was staying in. The whole night she cultivated this Ariadne at Naxos theme, which I couldn't understand how fit the circumstances - I had totally misunderstood why she was there alone, and when it all came clear much later, I reacted badly to that too. To be fair, I was very tired by that time, having spent the whole day running around in Brighton with Tabs. What with the tiredness and smoke, I guess free association was loosely at work. The previous night I had a long talk with Art trying to organise meeting up at the weekend, and he was filling me in his latest involvement with Janet. That had affected me then, and was on my mind now.

So, seeing Emma&Joe talk to each other lying idly on the double bed reminded me of the first time I met Janet. This all came back to me on the taxi ride back home. Janet and Kake in heaven (I wonder what I was doing in heaven, I certainly didn't know noodles or tfm that well at the time), Janet was in a state, crying perhaps and complaining about her fiance, whom I knew nothing about but he must have obviously been very wicked to have brought her to such a state. I remember talking to each other, I have this picture of them two sitting at noodles' room entrance, on the floor, Janet saying something like, you understand it so well, why can't he? and Kake replying "because we are women", then kissing on the lips. It must have been the first time I saw women kiss each other IRL, now that I think of it. At the time I thought it was a silly thing to do in public, and I guess that's how I started feeling awed and at the same time wary of either of these girls.

So much for the girls, that would all have been a bearable, perhaps even pleasant reminiscence. But the image of Janet in a state for her fiance inevitably led to thinking of the fiance himself! Usually when I think of Simon, I always think of the end of the relationship, when he was judging me all the time, or giving me pain, or even later when he refused all contact of any kind. Thinking of this Simon doesn't upset me anymore, it's the way life is. But the memory of Janet chronologically pointed to this mysterious Simon that I went after and fell for. It reminded me of how much I wanted him back then, it reminded me how it felt to want him, how my heart would leap everytime I'd see him. How we spent hours looking into each others' eyes, and how he closes his eyes like he swoons when he looks at his loved one. The picture of him doing that still turns me on now - and makes me sad, too. I do wonder how much of the attraction I felt for Simon was exactly because he was Janet's ex. Perhaps she was right for making my short-lived affair with him misery, the witch war might have been what I was really after.

There were six of us in that posh hotel "room", we had a tv and a cd player, I had a copy of the Big Issue, with free CD, and we just played that. It was conveniently long, and the most mesmeric of tunes in it was chanting every hour: "..think about..all those things you feel...just be glad to be here..."

To top off my bad mood, when Jackie called in the afternoon (about an hour after I had woken up), I felt like she was accusing me of laziness for not having shown up at the shop on Saturday morning. Purely my imagination, I am sure, nobody should read between the lines when they are paranoid. Actually, neither should you.
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