join us at the joiners

Johnny, though quietly charming and super intelligent, was short and rather squat. “that top shows your tits” Mikey nicely pointed out, an example of the honesty he prided himself on. Johnny pulled a weak smile, hoping to show he took it in the jovial matey-bitchy manner it was meant in, but at the same time rather quite distraught – they’d reached the bar now and he’d wished his famous will to honesty had prompted him to mention this whilst eh could still change. He went to the bathroom to see if he could stretch the tshirt out at all – it was from American apparel and so quite malleable. He just ended up making it a weird shape, and only really stretched out at the bottom, so it made a kind of pelmet hanging off his belly. It was really busy as usual at the joiners, uncortably so, and it took Johnny a full 25 minutes to gets erved. Mikey had done rather soon, indeed he had sipped a fair amount of his pint even by the time Johnny emerged from the bathroom. By the time Johnny found mikey, once he had gotten his own pint, his friend was draining his glass and expressed annoyance that Johnny ahdnt bothered to get one for him whilst he was there. He was talking to a cute guy with bleach blonde hair and the kind of oversized t shirt that only looked good on people who were’nt actually oversized. Johnny interrupted this guy mid flow and offered his hand “I’m Johnny,” “hey!” said blondie “I’m Stephen. Nice to meet you! Anyone wanna go out for a smoke?” producing a box of fags and walking to the door. He had a friendly easiness Johnny liked. He went to follow them – Mikey was walking to the door too – but then realized he had almost a full pint, and they didn’t let you outside with drinks. He gulped it down – well as much as he could, leaving a third on the side. He rushed out, delayed by a bottleneck at the door. Once he found the guys in the throng outside they were almost done with their fags. Johnny noticed Mike’s hand on blondie’s arse. Quick work he thought. He’s cute though! Good work, Mikey! He got a fag out, grabbed a light from Mikey, then waved them off back inside (they rushed in once they heard a song come on Johnny didn’t recognize. He crossed his arm across his belly, the other holding the fag resting on it, a pose he recognized from his mother, the one she’d take at the door when chatting to neighours over a B&H. He waved at an acquaintance. He scanned around the crowd of smokers. No one slotting into the middle of his mental venn diagram – no one both cute and pullable. A very particular category. Now Johnny had a heart condition and shouldn’t really be smoking. He was told he could live a long healthy life or it could just pack in one night. When he went for a piss in the alley nearby, not willing to stand in the queue for the toilets again (that 2/3 had somehow really rushed through him), it did pack in. he fell down onto the piss wet floor and died.

Life isn't a rehearsal

He smashed a bottle of cava down into the corner of the concrete room, and rolled over, his face now against the cold, dry abrasive floor. He was naked and any time he moved the surface scratched at his skin. A rope fell from the ceiling, he rolled his eyes up in his head so far they hurt and still couldn’t see the point of ingress, so rolled back over onto his back, the concrete scratching scratching. A dark hole in the concrete ceiling, a rope dangling through. The ceiling seemed so far away the hole was indistinct. He could hear a dull wind blowing, and perhaps some kind of brass instrument playing a melancholic tune. The smell of the cava reached his nostrils, a welcome relief from the smell of his own vomit breath. He felt a cockroach clamber over his hand. He let it for a while before smashing it down into the floor, feeling it squash against his skin. He’d been told you shouldn’t squash roaches cos their babies shoot out. Sounded like bullshit to him. The wind howled even louder now, blowing icy snowflakes over him. He reached into his pockets and took out a brand new packet of cigarettes and put one between his lips, then realized he didn’t have a lighter or matches. It was getting colder so he got off his chair and went to his wardrobe to take out something more practical. He was glad to remember he hadn’t returned Isaac’s snowboots yet. If he walked for about 20 miles due East he’s come to Melanie’s house and she’d have a lighter. She was indeed waiting on the porch for him, using the time to teach her pet wolves some tricks. They were gutting some fish for her and taking them to the smoking house to be well, er smoked. She gave him a light then he walked back, but fell down through the ice and

Adult Education

"Is this the most depressing place in the world?" O asked me. I laughed and agreed. The yellow lighting, the paper cups of shitty coffee, the maudlin staff shuffling around, the awkward chatter between fellow classmates or more often, people sat on their own. Everyone had a look of dissatisfaction about them. I said, smiling "No one here is happy with their life." They'd taken an evening course to try and remedy that. They probably felt so enthusiastic looking at the shiny prospectus, feeling that they were taking their lives in hand. Then when they begun the course in this ugly building, seeing themselves reflected in all the other unfulfilled people stirring their coffee feebly in the yellowing canteen, they felt even worse than they did before. It would take more than French level 2 or introduction to basketry to fix themselves. They'd not only tried and failed, but revealed the real depth and richness of their dissatisfaction. They'd drawn attention to it and now a niggling feeling of disappointment had been thrown open, it was a long burning ache of, well, misery.

Time to go back for the second half. Wouldn't want to waste £150 after all.

Breakfast vignette

When I poured my porridge out into a saucepan this morning, happy to be making a cheap and wholesome breakfast and get the day off to a good start, a big ugly wriggly cockroach popped out of the box. I hadn't requested extra protein. It wiggled up through the hearty oats, and I just exhaled, and calmly watched it scuttle away across the hob whilst I pondered my options.