Less and less

Compendium Bookshop sent a reply to my letter, and I almost did a little jig of joy on reading the book list: all of Kerouac’s novels, stuff by Burroughs, Ginsberg, Corso, Snyder, Ferlinghetti, McClure; they even have the Ann Charters biography of Kerouac. I set off to school in an excited, high frame of mind.

Hirst told me that I'm failing totally to understand, grasp or even connect with Conrad. “You have talent but you’re just attaining less and less.” This gave me the humiliating down-to-earth-with-a-Bump realisation that my literary-grandiose-art-jazz pretensions are just that - pretensions. I now feel a despairing but real eagerness to right all my wrongs and start again. Help! I’m throwing it all away!

After school I felt so sickened and fed up with my scruffiness that I had my hair cut to round-the-ear-shortness.

Unconvincing

I wandered into school late morning and got involved in the usual self-defeating arguments about politics. As usual too, I was uncertain and totally unsure of myself and indeed, “unable to provide any alternative.” How can I hope to ever get my views across if I’m so bloody ineffectual that I grind to a stumbling mumbling submissive halt? “You’ve gone quiet, Marty!” leered Duncan. Yes I have, because I don't know anymore! I make it all sound so unconvincing.

At times like this, getting called those stupid but annoying names (“Tina,” “Marty”) and allowing things to get on top of me too easily, I can honestly say yes when Grant asks, “Do you ever feel you’re isolated at school?” But really none of it matters because I can never match my resolve at home with the realities of school.

Better than before

We had a History test first period and I thought I did better than before; my answer felt more comprehensive and was better-written. In English, Hirst really seems to be despairing of us: just weeks to go and we don't know the text. Little else to report: pleasant conversations with Claire, slight discord with Jeremy.

In the evening I listened to Northern Ireland v. Scotland on Radio 2.

Healthy panic

Another hot, sticky summer-like day. I was dressed all in black and feeling the heat. In History, Mrs. Mills remarked on our remarkable coolness considering the nearness of ‘A’ levels. She was encouraging us to develop a state of “healthy panic.”

I had a History test on Bismarck last period and then Art and I left school feeling in a good mood. Impressive Dali-esque sunset clouds.

Nothing has really developed Falklands-wise, but war now looks inevitable. Dad indulges in his usual jingoist reveling. I intended working in the evening but Tim and Peter called round and stayed a couple of hours or so and we indulged in the usual crude rumour mongering and cheap jokes.

Lapsed

It was fine and sunny and after History, Lee and I got the bus into Easterby and looked round the library (renewed Jack’s Book, took out Zen In the Art of Helping by David Brandon and Concentration and Meditation by Christmas Humphreys), and then went to second-hand shops where I nearly bought a pair o’ trousers. Instead I bought a stylus and posted my £4 membership renewal for Easterby Astronomical Society because I’d suddenly felt sad and guilty about allowing it to lapse. I tried on hats in BHS.

I got home at five and worked intermittently all evening on my Hirst essay in-between listening to Athletic beat Keddon 3-0. I’m finding Conrad so difficult. I finished at midnight or so.