im driving around these places, helping out, massive superstores and centres, very american, warehouses that go on for miles and miles, products that are so cheap they give them away, hordes of zombies pushing trolly's whacked out on coronation street hangovers and tetly tea psychosis. i drive around in circles, around roundabouts and car parks, in the rain, the sleet, the hail, the
endless water logged infinity that invades the bones, the blood the spirt. i put the heater on in the car, it's the warmest place in my world right now, i'm safe from madness, safe from noise, safe from harm. i wish i could smoke a spliff and listen to some reggae, imagine i was somewhere else, somewhere where i could just lay in the sun with my beautiful woman, a couple of el savs, play with her hair and fall asleep listening to her tell me about the plan for the future, but it ain't gonna happen, instead i'm begrudgingly doing what i have to do. i attempt to come into the moment and adopt a positive attitude but i need to defrost first.
i help with some chores, meet martins friend david who is great, we talk about ayahuscia and stuff, mum is bewildered that i can
engage with martins friend like this about so many obscure topics, she can't actually get a word in and hovers around us looking lost. after dinner we have a massive discussion, david and i share a few positions and ideas but mum is oppositional and keeps interrupting, i have to pull her reigns, i am manipulating her now, through subtle tactics and nuance, she is unaware as it all happens on a subconscious level but i am taking control. with david here as witness it's easy, any third party will act as a brake when my mother begins to attack me, she is forced to hear david value me and this undermines her, my tactics are like precision weapons, attacking her foundation, she cannot manoeuvre without support and with a witness there she has to restrain herself.
there are moments when it comes out, actually i am glad as david obviously recognises this monster. martin who is sitting quietly understands what's happening, i know he does, he's smart and has to be more aware than he makes out. he says, 'he can't relate to our conversations' and i understand that as he has never explored tryptamine but i know he must see mum as having serious issues. it's not cultural, it's not personality, it's not age, it's a mental illness.
i use some affirmations on her, re enforce some positives when she is softer spoken and receptive, i surf her like a cool wave braking on avalon beach, and for the frst time i feel i can get through this.
i watch the pete jackson remake of king kong with my father, he is into it, i leave halfway through, i'm over naomi watts looking so fucking hot in the arms of a big monkey, it reminds me of that joe jackson song, 'is she really going out with him.'

jake's gone out clubbing, pubbing in central london, he's staying out all night with friends, i'm getting an early night and reading a new book called 'wolf hall' the winner of the booker prize this year.