To: happy@joy.joy Subject: empty vessels make the most noise [3/11-9/11] Date: Wed, 02 Dec 1998 11:47:14 PST [what happened from Wednesday 3rd November to Tuesday 9th November 1998. written on 10th November] OH HE'S GONE AND DONE IT NOW !! one cannot bear to see oneself damage himself in such a way, such an abuse of faculties. I believe the decline began on Wednesday, when armed with a shaver Mr. Sewell cut down several thousand of Mr. and Mrs Hair's family - leaving them cold and lifeless on the concrete floor. The resulting design left little to desire but is nevertheless more easier to maintain for this lazy vessel I am employed by. Mr and Mrs Eye helped push the new situation home with the use of the mirror in the room and Mr Brain transmitted the desired sense of panic ! The result : He shut himself in the bedroom for 36 hours lest Mr Cheeks go into overload ! That serves him right ! On Thursday I could sense a decline in health, Mr Throat was slightly irritated over something. This night was Guy Fawkes Night and Mr Brain helped transmit a great sense of elation at celebrating this special night in the city of its initial occurence. At 7pm despite Mrs Skin indicating she would rather stay indoors on a cold brisk windy night he braved the conditions and headed out for a Guy Fawkes celebration down the road. Much fun was had and many pyrotechnic spectacles were viewed by Mr and Mrs Eye. There were thousands of other people here as well which didn't help The Shoes at all as the field turned to mud ! The requiesant soundtrack was supplied by The Spice Girls and Whigfield from a dodgy compact disc. I suspect it was this occasion which aggravated Mr Throat so much... An incident which is not connected whatsoever but needs to be recorded is that after the pyrotechnic fest and recuperating at the hostel later Mr Pascal who is a dimunitive frenchman returned in a frightful state, in fact so frightful that he did not notice the new haircut ! (When we were last at the hostel six months ago we shared a room with Mr Pascal and thus were overjoyed when he returned one month ago to rejoin us.) Earlier in the week he had confided that he was wanting locations in which to met 'partners'. We gave him the best advice we could and thought nothing else of it with a closed mind and zipped mouth. Fast forward to this night and it transpired that he had met up with a black man who under the falsehood of introducing him to a nightclub actually took him into a secluded alleyway and tearing Mr Pascal's leather jacket stole his money. Mr Pascal approached us and asked if we could help locate some thread to repair his jacket, naturally Mr Mouth with a quavering Miss Voicebox replied in the affirmative. At one point in a rare show of empathy Mr Right Hand encircled Mr Pascal and led him to sit with us and our friends. Mr Heart beat well when the fellow frenchmen showered food, alcohol and warm regards to their fallen comrade. On Friday we had to open up the hostel in the morning so I awoke him by 6:30am. Mr Nick was in the reception with him and we all found him thoroughly annoying as he turned on the heater, wanted to put on his choice of music and kept getting in the way of our job. Mr Blood was getting especially anxious with these proceedings. Nevertheless we survive the morning and partake of an early lunch of spaghetti and DOLMIO sauce which he found left out overnight on the kitchen bench which Mr Stomach and Miss Tongue and her bastard children young Sour, Sweet and the others were excited about. I wish I had the gift of foresight to see what was going to happen eating food that had been left alone.....Mr Throat is getting more irritated.... At 2pm it is time for the job interview for IDESK. We have all been suffering a little over the past few weeks as we had not been receiving the required nourishment for such a household. So Mr Brain finally got hold of Mrs CommonSense to see that we needed some financial reimbursement. The interview itself went fine, Mrs Commonsense went a bit awry and decided that Mr and Mrs Fist and their five young daughters should retain their sense of uniqueness amongst others of the Nail clan. And it was a 'hairy' moment when Mr Head decided to shake himself to remove the dandruff that had settled there over the past few hours - whereupon the interviewer came into the room. The questions were easy enough and Mr Muscle was very very relaxed. Upon departing the interview location which was located near Kingsbury near Wembley Stadium we don our long jacket and head out back into the cold. It was at this moment this things went a bit wrong....and SOME of us started playing up the fool. Initially I believe Mr Throat started this. He had been niggling all day and now he had got worse not allowing Mr Saliva downstairs with difficulty. The capillaries surrounding Mr Head then decided to go on strike and seize up and attempt to painfully restrict as much of Mr Blood through Mr Heart as is capable. Mr and Mrs Leg meanwhile were happily moving in unison down the road until Mr Right Arm and Right Leg and in fact much of the right side decided to become numb and tingly. Mr Right Wrist suddenly did not have enough strength to bring up Mr Fist! I should note that he is what we call "righthanded", but in most cases it is not an indication of rightsided dexterity but simply which side is naughtiest and creates the most mischief whether within himself or upon other people - witness the trips to the tavern and use of Mr right Hand for nosepicking ! Eventually we are able to return home without the help of anyone on the rightside. That night we spent in bed commencing from 5pm in the foetal position (beloved by young babies, sick people and junkies) with the dubious company of Mr Sweat and Miss Shiver with MR and Mrs Hand clutching Mr Head ! On Saturday things boded well by the afternoon and the Eyes were able to help an intake of literature in the way of "The Dads Army Diary" and "Be My Baby : The Ronnie Spector Story" which were both very satisfying. Luckily Mrs Mum had packed some painkiller tablets for any malevolent situations such as these. Unfortunately even two of these tablets provided only very temporary relief. And the remains of the day was spent in stilted silence except for the odd evocation from Mr Mouth. Sunday commenced in the same fashion. My now Mr. Back and Miss Glutemus Maximus were starting to feel the effects of lying down all day and night. At lunchtime Mr Johnstone came to the rescue and realising that one cause of this ailment was malnourishment took him down to the local tavern for a slap up roast beef meal. The Tastebuds didn't not find much satisfaction but Mr Stomach did. Miss Lucy the local dog was as usual strolling around finding a patron to play fetch with her and rub her belly. Monday - Mr Common Sense rears his head again and books in an appointment with the doctor. Despite our weakened state we manage to arouse a hundred or so lower facial muscles suitably with the arrival of an early morning call for a successful job application. The remainder of the day was spent in sweaty sheets again...writhing about as if possessed by whatever was inside my head. This I believe to be a full and complete account of this period in time, Mr Short Term Memory is trying his best to recall as much as he can from Mrs Long Term Memory but she is annoyed at him for something that doesn't recall doing. POSTSCRIPT: -what is the paradox with this writing ? -Imagine the is being read my an old classic english actor e.g. Ian Lavender -as you would expect I recovered by Wednesday for the appointment. Date: 30 Nov 1998 19:42:55 -0000 To: finally.some@word.from.london Subject: a day in the life friday 27th November 1998 awoke at seven fell out of bed dim light through the window is my only timepiece. dragged a comb across my head filled up the toilets with toilet paper as is my duty to pay for my accomodation. (ambiguism deliberate). eat eat eat bread roast cereal out the door at quarter to eight. NO guards on my tube and none at kingsbury so I slip through and join the morning throng. forty pages left to the silence of the lambs. reach bond street in ten minutes then a change onto the jubilee line up north for twenty-six minutes till kingsbury next stop past wembley. enter the office and the team manager is playing her cd of songs of praise and it reminds me of home. grind for a few hours on the phones and grab lunch which is left over food from a bakery that a fellow hostelmate works at. finish at five but stay on to do email and surf. my workmates are typically surfing for porn and death pictures. i finally get to senator bob dwyer. finish at eight. get on the tube with charlie from basildon and navin from east london. a goth gets on with us with heavy black eyeliner the same as her telltubby the red one whose name i don't know she looks like marc almond. navin asks me how i find the racism in new zealand and in london. i say it finds me. then he tells me how he got a cigarette in his eye when he was seven but london is now metropolitan so not much stuff like that happens again. i have no ticket have no money but decide to try to sneak into the city to wander. i head back to bond street and go to oxford street it is busy so i slip in after someone through the turnstiles. hit regent street and the xmas lights are up and orange. all the major stores have nifty storybook windows displays. i hit the music stores and hit tower records and hear a bit of depeche mode's greatest hits so i linger for a while. i cross piccadilly circus to hmv and listen to most of the south park album. music has been absent for a long time. go to leicester square and the xmas rides and fun fairs have been set up and as a result the square is bustling with people being conned by these games. i catch up with hema and wish her a belated happy birthday she is twenty-nine now. we have about the same number of grey hairs. the crowds are heavy so i easily sneak back onto the tube at eleven. something else happened.