12:46 
I really want to get the film in the new camera finished. I want to get it ddeveloped, find out if it is possible to take pictures of the shapes and light and feelings and other senses I see when I look at a piece of landscape, if it is possible, using a decent camera, to take pictures that reflect the forms that I see when I am induced to point the camera and try to record them.
It would mean a lot to me if I could take pictures of the things I see, even if they were only there in the most vague sense.
11:54
Well, here we go again.
It's the not talking thing.
Of course it will all end badly and I'll end up having to apologise because otherwise he'll sulk. But there you go. I'm supposed to be the great "fulcrum", and so of course I can tell when silence means he's busy and there's no point in messaging because he won't respond and when it means he just doesn't know what to say and I should start something so that he doesn't feel I'm ignoring him. But I don't see why I should. He's the one with pressing things that might need doing. He's in a better position to start things going.
It's all so damn childish, I know. I do know. Yes, I do, but maybe I'm a little bit irritated about having to make these sorts of decisions for people all the time. Maybe it's just that I'm fed up with people putting me in a position where I feel that if I don't make those first approaches to conversation and then keep on talking no matter whether I feel like it or not they are going to throw a hissy fit or a depressive slide and get angry with me or even start hurting themselves and saying no one cares about them any more.
I've been getting quite stressed about that recently.
Not actually with Andy, no, I never really don't want to talk, not because I'm fed up with him, although that has happened with other people. I do get caught up with what is going on inside sometimes, and sometimes I don't want to talk in case I say something that will hurt him, but that's not the same. I feel awful now that he might be in a position where he feels that he has to talk to me, even if he doesn't want to, for fear of how I'll react.
I did just tell him that I can't let him break the Weapon. My problem. I haven't quite been able to say "I forbid it" yet, because it's not that I do not wish it to happen, it's just that I don't think he should be the one to do it. The whole situation stinks, but it's a smell that I, at least, have got used to over the past few years.
In two months I'll have not been Core for a whole year. I'll have been ill for more than a year and a half. That's a long time.
Monday, October 09, 2000
16:43
I just went to Sainsbury's. Not terribly exciting, you might think, but our Sainsbury's has just been refitted. It's now a 24 hour supermarket, and the selection of organic stuff is mind blowing. You could get lost in their organic section (well, nearly). They also have all sorts of other things in there too, and I can't help looking at that particular area of the shop and thinking that it reminds me of the "Mind, Body, Spirit" section of a bookshop. Only not quite so full of tat like "Celtic Feng Shui for Cats" and similar rubbish. They even have books on healthy eating and how to cook for spiritual progression and such things. So maybe it does have tat in there.
Thing is, having safely navigated my way round and forgotten once more to buy honey, I was wandering home and made the mistake of looking at the sky.
Quick diversion: Frood and I watched Three Kings last night. There are scenes in that film that have been visually tweaked, apparently in order to convey "emotional intensity" (so says the spiel in the opening credits). Some of those scenes conveyed a similar sense to some of things I am seeing now. Not simply unreality, but a mixture of unreality and hyper reality.
So, anyway, I looked up at the sky and that was it, the world flashed over. The sky seemed to be alive, looking at it was a little like looking down a tunnel with walls that show an infinite space rushing past, as if it would draw me with it someplace different if I let it. Where? I don't know. And then everything else was hyper-real as well. The leaves on hedges took on a silvery sheen, the pavement had somehow more depth to it, the patterns of the tarmac and the cracks had more meaning. The trees seemed suddenly to have an awareness in the here and now, not just the awareness of trees. It was as if, suddenly, the universe had turned its attention towards me because I had the temerity to see something in the sky that was beyond what I am supposed to see. The feeling was so intense I actually heard myself whimpering.
And it hasn't gone away.