Oh for a week or two I was getting quite excited - I was on the cusp of getting my followers up to double-figures. But a couple of days ago someone broke under the pressure and now it's down to 8. But what's heartening is that even now that I've just lost over ten percent of my followers I didn't get downhearted. I don't think this is bravado or me trying to make a virtue out of what must be the most disastrous music career in the whole history of disastrous music careers.
I haven't died in a plane crash or anything very serious. Seeing as I don't fly, it's unlikely to happen. The planes take off from the local airport and this is under their flightpath, so I might yet die if one falls from the sky. But train crashes are more likely to be the death of me.
The walk I did last Saturday was so fantastic that yesterday I tried to do it again - this time on my own - train to Waterloo, tube to Stratford, through the mall, by the bell and the stadium, along the Lea, various small parks, Highgate, and then heading south to Waterloo.
The highlight was seeing the king (I think) drive by. By the middle of the afternoon I'd just crossed Leicester Square and was crossing the road towards St Martin in the Fields when I heard the sound of whistles - as in the things that refs blow. And the blue strobes. And the first police motorcyclist drove up. Like I say, I'd already just crossed the road - but there was a young Asian guy behind me who was intending to do the same but the police motorcyclist shouted at him aggressively to stop where he was, and he parked his motorcycle so as to block the crossing.
The young guy could see that the road was clear and safe to cross so he stepped into the road and the policeman screamed even louder and clearly hated him. More whistlings and more police motorcyclists now rode up and passed on ahead, no doubt to block off more pedestrian crossings.
The whistling and the shouting and the screaming - it was like a bunch of mad shepherds lashing out noisily at the sheep. Then the dark cars arrived, darkened windows, so really for all I know it was just the Royal Deliveroo drivers getting an escort back to a restaurant. But with all the fuss, more than I'd ever known before when these things happen, it was obviously about as important as could be.
Whistles are such a bad look (sound). A hundred-plus years ago our great(etc?) grandfathers were forced to go over the top to the sounds of these whistles, and really that's the way we've been treated ever since. We're not even the shit on their shoes. Well we are, and they just want to rub us off on the ground and walk away.
Tomorrow I and my favourite ex will be watching the thing, us in a big tent, quiche everywhere, really we'll only be doing it because it'd be nice to see as-it-happens if anything does happen. Wouldn't it be great if there was someone brave enough. But there never is. Not me - I like quiche too much. I like making annoying music like this that no one likes and the fact that no one likes it sometimes gives me delusions that I'm different from everyone else - almost everyone else - meek and obedient they follow the leader down well trodden corridors into the valley of well nothing really, just a waste of life, I liked the young guy behind me for at least trying, and I was relieved that I wasn't the one who was put to the test, because I can kid myself that I would've disobeyed.
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