I sat opposite the man, and tried to explain about my finances. I tried to explain why I've not had a job for months, and I tried to make him believe me. I don't think he cared. He didn't seem interested in anything apart from going through his how-to-talk-to-clients script. He had someone watching him, which can't have helped. A visiting woman, looking over us and checking that he was doing his job properly. I was trying to sign on the dole, you see. It isn't easy. It involves filling in an incredibly long form, practically a book. They still haven't written to tell me if I am going to be given anything, but in the meantime i have promised them i will go out and look for things. I don't have a bike to get on, though. Sometimes life seems all coherent, as if all the little patches have come together and are making sense. Sometimes, though, everything is broken up into parts and nothing gets done. My life has things in it, but none of them are important, and none of them fit with the others. Just, little episodes. I saw a family of deer the other day. That was one of the episodes. I was zooming out of Glasgow on the train, through all the lovely tower blocks. Just as you start to come into the countryside, there is a bunch of little-used railway sidings; and the other day, four deer were stood about there at the edge of the track, not at all bothered. At least, they didn't seem bothered as I flashed past at whatever miles-per-hour. Freeze-frame. I told the man I want to be a photographer. He said: "it's very hard. No jobs in it. Everyone and his dog wants to be a photographer." The other day I woke up at 4am, terrified. Next to me on my bed I keep a big furry cushion, with a brown-and-cream cowhide pattern. Sometimes, the cat sleeps on top of it. I woke up at 4am, terrified, because I knew that this cushion wanted to attack me. Well. It didn't *want* to, but it was going to do it whatever. The cushion was going to jump on top of my face and stop me breathing. I sat up in bed so that I didn't go back to sleep and give it another chance to get me. I told the man I wouldn't mind working with computers. "Ooh," he said, like a repairman making that sucking-in "this is going to cost you" noise. "lots of people want to do that. You need qualifications. You need career history. We don't see many job opportunities like that." I saw a fox, too, but it wasn't snowing. I was looking for some stuff, out of a shed. I opened up the shed, and inside there was a fox, climbing high up on top of cupboards and cabinets. he didn't run away in a panic; he gently let himself down to the ground, and wandered behind a pile of old electrical cables. I assume he had tunnelled under the walls; that shed had no proper floor. We have to just assume, I think, that our friends aren't going to let us down. Today's "Observer" had a big long profile of Helena Christensen. It contained this quote: "to this day, she can pontificate at great length on the relative merits of Arab Strap vs Belle & Sebastian," and I couldn't help thinking of Celebrity Deathmatch. Maybe I won't ever manage to get a job. I just want to do something I'm going to enjoy doing. It's time for bed. Hopefully, the cushions won't have that attack urge again. love xx caitlin +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+