September 5 (Sunday): This morning I awaken still pissed off over last night. That can’t be good. Its Sunday morning so here comes the usual ritual of talking to Sara by MSN at work all morning. Here comes more dirt, it appears she has spent all weekend with her boss, which is exactly just what I do not want to hear. I tell her she’s headed to a Swimsuit Issue, which is actually me trying to be smart. She also whines to me that she still loves Jay Jay. Whatever. Time seems ripe however to enquire into that and just why it ended. She strings it out but ultimately it sounds like lies. In her words, “Leave it Jason�.

Today is utterly beautiful, perfection; there is still some life in Summer 2004 left. I text Mark to see if he is doing an “outdoor activities� today. He immediately phones and says he is headed to Walton with Jeremy. He invites me but they’re catching the train there which seems an utterly pointless waste of time to me and to be honest, I just used to live in Walton so it doesn’t really hold too much interest for me in earnest. I laugh it off but as soon as I do I suspect I should really have gone with. Nevermind.

Eventually I manage to get out, to do a newspaper run. I walk into town like a zombie, poorly dressed with semi bedhead. Oh yes, I’m a catch today. And a total car crash, part chav, part pikey and all parts being the bad parts. Enough self-depreciation already!

I try to face, re-arranging my house today (both mentally and physically) but it is all a bridge too far and when I manage to clear off my smaller sofa facing my big TV, all I achieve is curling up in/on it and sleeping for part of the afternoon.

At 5pm a real gust of energy captures me and I get caught in the wave of really pulling out a full on surge of tidy. This coincides with What About Bob on TV so maybe I find myself inspired by Bill Murray’s OCDs (obsessive compulsive disorders, dummy).

By the evening, I have made a pretty good dent in my flat and despite the fact it now looks more untidy than previously, I have at least filled up about five bin bags.

In the evening Rush Hour is on BBC1 and I spend the whole movie debating as to whether Jackie Chan is a genius or if he is a movie virtuoso. I also spend way too much of the film trying to work out whether the band guys are speaking Cantonese or Mandarin and waiting for the Henry Rollins version of War to come on. Have I forgotten how to have fun watching a movie?

From there I clean up my body but not my flat and hit a bath running hoping not to miss too much of Jerry Maguire (what the fuck is my problem, all I seem to do these days is watch movies on TV). I get to see the beginning of Jerry Maguire and for about the fourth time I fall asleep at the exact same point. What is wrong with me? No, really? Maybe I should have watched American History X on BBC2 instead and got me some cheesy Nazis.

I sleep, I really need sleep.

np: The Strokes - Someday