Brighton Beach Memoirs

[thessalian]

Well, here I am in Brighton. There's no AIM at this cybercaff, which is a good thing, given that my mission here was to not even be tempted to deal with any of that shit.

So why am I here? I wanted to share Brighton, what else?

Even the ride down was a blessing. I went through bits of London (bits near where I live if the bus lines are any indication) that I didn't know existed, and am very glad I now know about. There are gardens out there -- real ones, with real flowers. There's this gorgeous church somewhere out Streatham way; fine, I don't do religion but I appreciate good architechture when I see it. And then there were trees, and then countryside. The land was so open. That alone helped.

I picked up a couple of books before I left London -- one of them was Daniel Keyes' "Flowers for Algernon". I got a censored version when I was a lot younger (like, fifteen years younger) and it made me sad then. Now that I'm reading the whole thing (inspired in part by repeated readings of a certain Dariafic, which sparked off that particular childhood memory), it makes me even more sad, but in a good way. It's good travel reading when you're sick of the scenery.

And then Brighton. First thing I did was check out the sea. This wasn't hard -- the bus finished up pretty much on the seafront. I like the sea; to me, the sea's what freedom looks like. It's big, it's exhilirating, it's damn near endless ... and that makes it very, very frightening. Roller-coaster big adventure kind of frightening.

I'm sharing a hostel room with this girl whose name I don't think I even asked. She's from Perth and has been here in Brighton for about two months. We shared a spliff after I came back from dinner (Pizza Hut, smoking section, peace protesters barrelling past the window flanked by cops in riot gear, no one batted an eye) and talked life-shit. It was good.

The hostel itself ... according to the plaque on the door, it was founded in 1991, but it was decorated by someone in a very 60s state of mind. Probably induced by the 60s drugs of choice. The colour scheme is violent (for example, the room I share with the girl from Perth has orange walls with MSN-blue trim and drapes; this would give me migraines if the orange was less muddy) and there are cartoon characters painted on the outside of each door. Mine has Elmer Fudd doing his "be vewwy vewwy quiet" finger-to-lips schtick, which is probably vewwy vewwy appwopwiate. ^_^

Today was spent wandering, and it seems like Brighton is sort of a NorthEastern cross between San Francisco and Monterey. I went to the Aquarium but it depressed me -- they think their habitats are such hot shit but those are some cramped and miserable little beasties. They have sharks, though, and that's always a bonus. Hippie shit all over the place. They have the funkiest stores this side of Camden and I bought myself a T-shirt that says "Today I am wearing mainly black". Hands up who sees the appropriateness of this. Also a pin badge that reads "A passionate kiss is like a spiderweb -- both lead to a fly's undoing" and the requisite sticks of rock to pass around the office. (The Pink Lady asked as a joke; if she'd asked seriously, I wouldn't have done it because I hate being obliged to do stuff.)

Now there's a thing. Concerning my little freak out on Thursday. MintSauce basically spoke to me of my obligation to myself to keep writing. leopard_lady put me under the obligation to pick something else immediately upon deciding that I might not want to spend the rest of my life doing it. Emphasis on 'might', by the way. The only people who didn't place me under a weight of obligation that I couldn't be having with were Nakanaide (it helps that I didn't tell him what I was angsting about) and Wakaranai, though he came close. And the reason he never crossed that line is that I'm used to beating him over the head with the clue-by-four so I do it pretty much automatically these days.

To the point, then. I probably do need to write. I probably do want to write. I do not want to have to write. You don't see the difference between 'need to' and 'have to'? Then allow me to clarify. 'Need to' means something that I'm doing because it will affect me badly if I don't. 'Have to' means something that them-out-there need me to do because it will affect them badly if I don't, or they think it will affect me badly if I don't. Guess what? You're not me! You have no clue what will affect me badly! Sometimes the very act of writing affects me badly, and do you know how few of you seem to care, so long as I keep doing it? There are exceptions, of course, but overall, I feel like I'm being locked up in a cage of my own making, and it sucks beyond words. Well, nearly beyond words.

So here I am in Brighton, trying not to think too much lest my mind go further on this path that makes me want to gnaw my own leg off like a trapped coyote to escape the stupid trap I started making when I first decided to post the things I wrote on the Internet. Yeah, I have a notebook, but half the time I'm too stressed to use it and the other half it's not an opportune moment. Overall, since I originally wanted this to be a weekend of creativity, it was a bit of a waste of time.

PS -- Waka-kun, I've found a book you have to read. It's called "I, Lucifer", it's by Glen Duncan and it reminds me so much of your friend Dezz...

Thess

Comments

[ethangilchrist.livejournal.com]

"something that them-out-there need me to do because it will affect them badly if I don't, or they think it will affect me badly if I don't" Gawdz do I understand that all too well. Brrrrr... I think from now on I'm not going to talk about my writing with anyone until whatever is being written is finished. Or at least the first full draft of it anyway. Feels like as soon as any of my friends hear that I have an idea for something I'm suddenly forced to write it even if later on I decide I don't want to anymore. Whether they actually feel that way or not. Ick.