The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Friday, 27 January 1989

Donna's Dreams


‘First Impression’ – Mick Karn



 

Dear Diary…

 

I WISH THE TELEPHONE WOULD STOP RINGING!

 

I’m at Giles Bacon’s home.  And it’s freezing cold.  I feel tired and almost ill.  I wish to sneeze.

 

I sneeze.

 

Everything in the world seems alien to me today.  Or am I alien to the world?  This world?

 

I feel catastrophe looming.  There is an emotional cloud of stress + tension lurking in my existence.  Even so, in and of myself, I feel very happy.

 

Still, no one is giving their all to THE CHINESE PLAY.  I think, across the department, all the Drama groups are feeling a heavy strain.  There’s a strange atmosphere.  It makes Donna want to leave, it makes Daniel want to leave.  Larry is clearly feeling the strain and there’s too much going on and, my god, it’s one big psychological hell right now.

 

Donna hated her dreams.

 

On the bus journey from college to here, I watched a young, auburn-haired girl as she sang to herself, un-self-consciously.  It was as refreshing to see as dawn on a summer’s day.  I think I knew her once.  I don’t know.

 

Donna hated her dreams.

 

Next Wednesday, I want to see A DAY IN SUMMER.

 

I purchased GARDEN OF EDEN today.


 

It’s so cold.

 

So cold.

 

So cold.

 

So cold.

 

Am I to be trusted?

 

Donna hated her dreams.

 

I hated my own dreams, last night.

 

I hated my own dreams, last night.

 

I dreamt I was being mentally destroyed by taunts + jeers from my fellow students + friends.  Something had gone wrong + they hated me, wanted to see me ruined.  I was scared.

 

I feel ill.

 

I feel ill.

 

I need today.  I need to see Flash.  I’ve reached critical breaking point. 

 

Flash’s place’ll be a change of scenery; a place of relaxation.

 

Ah, Giles is back.  Off soon.

 

‘Sat In Your Lap’ – Kate Bush



 

Donna hated her dreams.

 

This morning?  Earl Grey tea + hot buttered toast at the Guildhall’s CROFTERS café with Julian Ward, Carl Morris, Una Baker, Emma Goddard + Gemma.  Good company.

 

Happy.

 

I’m hungry.  This is hunger.

 

Food.  Hunger.  Give me.

 

Donna.  At the end of her tether, poor girl.  THE CHINESE PLAY is pulling her to pieces.  She thinks it is doing the same to me, too.  But it’s not.  Not yet.  She can feel my stress and my strain, and she can feel those in all the others, across the department.  She hates, more than anything, the atrocious lack of commitment among her fellow students.  Dreams of leaving.

 

Last nite, Donna dreamed.  And hated it.  It was a horrible dream.  And the horrible dream was a dream she had known since childhood, but now it wore the face of RITCHERD JON WINTERFOOD.  Donna awoke from the dream, rose, and sleepily wrote an angry letter to me, confused + disturbed.

 

DONNA’S LETTER

She tells me she’s had enough, wants to chuck the course and tell everyone to go to hell.  She speaks of suicide or running away; of killing her dreams.  She then gets angry with me, asking if I ever listen to her, if I ever know her at all.  She concludes I don’t and can’t – because I’m a man, and men are not to be trusted.  She says she can’t trust any man.  She then gets angry with her father for ‘running off all over the world’ when she needs him the most.  She gets angry because I ‘don’t want’ her.  She doubts my friendship and tells me she’s not as stupid as (apparently) think.  She tells me she hates men.  All of them: bastards.  Not one of them worthy of her trust.  But she wants to trust me, she says.  She really does, because I’m different.  This time she really does want to trust a man.

 

Big stuff.

 

‘Gordon’s Gin’ – The Human League



 

We spoke today.  She cried.  I sat with her, thinking, in the hot and sunny spare room on Floor Three of the Library Block.  We held each other + I felt tears streaming down my face, dropping and blending with the fabric of her cardigan. 

 

‘We reflect each other too much,’ she said.  ‘I love you.  Have a nice weekend.  You need it.’

 

Donna and I grew closer and stronger today, I hope.  I only desire now that even she shows greater enthusiasm for THE CHINESE PLAY. 

 

Me?  Well, I wish to continue the recreation of my character and soul.  I still have some way to go. 

 

And THE CHINESE PLAY is two weeks away for this ‘up and coming young writer/actor’ (to quote The King’s Lynn Trader).

 

 

Later:

CASTLEFORD

 

‘Land’ – Mick Karn



 

Here I am in Ashton Street.

 

I arrived this evening.  Flash and I talked at length of this and that and other things.  Good friends together.

 





 

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Next time: ‘Jessica York…’

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