Tuesday, November 6

Now, just to let you know this is all from the past. I have been reading a book and thought I will write some of these things down. If it bothers you, let me know and I will stop (or discuss with you how I can do this without bothering you). But, just so that you know, I want YOU.

It was this performance at the Foundry, this durational three-day four-hour performance and the day before someone put me inside a shopping trolley; I was there wearing a black vintage swimming suit with little diamonds on top (the one I was wearing when we went for spa on my birthday) and I was inside the shopping trolley. This was a performance with lots of random people in a group doing random things, with televisions and cables and stuff - kind of improvising. I always wondered why people stayed; it wasn't that interesting or intriguing, it was just people doing stuff with stuff, cables and stuff. So I was in the shopping trolley the day before and I threw a towel to my friend Maria who was a fan and followed all of the crazy work I was doing those days, and she, competent and loyal audience member, interacted with me. She pulled me. And I fell, with the shopping trolley, and the shopping trolley fell onto my knee. And it really hurt.

So, the next day of the durational performance I could not walk, but I was not convinced I should not do my bit. So I did. I was there, wearing that purple dress I bought to fuck Antoine's young brother in South of France that summer, when I was feeling desperate and lonely and I had not even met him but I told Antoine on the phone before I had met his brother that I would fuck him.  I was wearing the purple summer dress and two red clip-on earrings and I was standing there. Stillness seemed to be kind of important for me back then. I was just standing and looking ahead, towards three young boys that sounded Spanish. At some point, I took of my earring and threw it on the floor in front of their feet and pointed at it. One of them, the brave one, picked it up and gave it to me. And I grabbed his hand, really tight, a moment before he was going to let go. And I held it there for four hours. I actually held his hand for less, but I then went on to touch his arm and shoulder and shoulder blade and back and I got to hold him closer and closer, very very close, no speaking. For four hours. The rest of the three boys were still there, looking. After the durational performance was over, my friend Paron whistled at me: 'I think you've got a date'. So, I picked up my stuff and went upstairs into the bar. I saw that boy and he spoke to me for the first time. Hello, I am Jose. And I was stunned. His voice was so high pitched and so different than I had expected. While I was holding him, I had all sort of fantasies. I thought how romantic if this is the boy I would actually end up with and I had met in such awesome way. How romantic it would be to end up with him and to have met him like this, in the basement of some weird bar in the middle of Hoxton. But I didn't. I didn't end up with him, I didn't like him, I didn't even want to chat with him. I still fucked him, but only once and only half-heartedly. I wanted to give it a shot just in case.

The other one, what's his name, I met in the coffee shop I used to work in. What's his name. I was not too keen, he looked like my dad but with a bigger belly. He tried to lure me with many different propositions, something about the moon in a text message, which didn't work, something about buying me dinner, which didn't work. When he spoke, vowels always seemed to make his mouth very round, very very round and kind of ugly, protruding, very ugly and wet and kind of protruding. Ok, so he said something about an underground house party in some kind of squat and that did it. He was a bit annoyed by that point, so he added: is that good enough for you. We did go to the party and I was more interested in the Russian blond girl than in him. But then the lights went down, the ceiling was low, the party almost over and therefore I decided to sit on his lap. And it was nice, kind of like sitting on my dad's lap nice. And then we went to his house and he tried to fuck me but I refused to take off my tights, so he kind of fucked me on top of the tights and then we had some tuna. (I remember we also went to some film exhibition at some gallery in the East and he gave me some advice on my career as an artist and I was wearing a black jumpsuit with some silver details. The advice didn't really seem to matter at the time, I was just happy being there, in a gallery, in East London, wearing my black jumpsuit).

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