Another shitty day. The Devil robert and my brother driving me crazy on the radio. Radio London. The first time I have listened to it in years. Joy Love (I think that was her name) between 10 and 1. Very entertaining. Fear that I’m losing you. I’ll think of something interesting to say.
Highbury Fields is a third full compared to yesterday, which was cooler. Government rage at people going out of doors at this critical time. But when you live alone in a studio flat with no garden AND you have mental health problems I think you’re entitled to half an hour on a bench ALONE.
There is a black lady 30 yards away from me taking pictures of the grass. She appeared to say ‘Don’t wake me up’ when I looked her way but the voice may have been imaginary. Then she said ‘You don’t know what I’m doing’. I didn’t so I left her to her study.
Sunday. Sunday. What a boring day. When the Devil, robert and my brother wake up and visit New York. Robert rebuilds it at the weekends so we all have to be very quiet.
Young ladies showing arms, shoulders and backs – and legs. They never show any interest in me. They all think I’m robert. That’s how he rebuilds it. By pretending to me. I can’t find my people. Uju once showed me. Who my people were. How robert had stolen them, how winning them back should be my aim. When I was unmedicated in the nineties. I was in Wightman Road at the time. She talked to me through the pictures on the wall. Really angry. On my behalf. And at me. Because of rebekah.
I should say at this point that Devil’s name is fred. Another old friend. Or was he. I used to think I was a good judge of character. But he torments me. He thinks I want to be buggered. I would rather choose death.
I now think the black lady is skyping or something, with the beautiful (still bare – they leaf so late) London Planes as a backdrop. Now she’s found a bench to sit on.. And is showing me a bit of leg.
(Fifty year old black man on the weighty side in pebble glasses cruises past. And we share a smile. I guess that means I’m alive.)