Part 2

The Prisoner, the Stranger and the Key Holder

I brush myself up off the floor and head to the kitchen for a drink. I find the DVD player in the cupboard and the CD player on the worktop wrapped in birthday paper addressed to Pierre Bourdieu. I wonder how the hell I knew it was his birthday, but in a weird way I understand the act, it is my way of thanking him for his help with my latest project. And when I say help, I mean I read his book. I have a weird thing about doing shit like this when I am drunk that largely goes misunderstood, not least from Penny. I think she sees it as sign of madness.

But stashing stuff, now that's my biggest downfall, this drives her fucking crazy, at one time or another I have hidden or moved almost everything in the flat. I have no way of relating to this, I don't understand it the way I understand gestures like sending some guy I have never met a CD player for his birthday, just because I read and loved his book. I don't know if this tendency goes back to my ecstasy days, I 'm guessing it does but I can't be sure. The underlying motivation of me stashing everyday objects while drunk is not my main concern just now. My focus is to try and figure out what else I have stashed before Penny wakes up. Apart from the DVD player in the cupboard which has now been reconnected and back in its rightful place and the CD player unwrapped the place looks sound. I unwrapped the birthday CD player not because I don't want to send it or feel it would be unjust, I just don't want to have to explain it to Penny. I just don't think she would understand.

If she finds the toaster in the toilet or the lawnmower in the cupboard again, I am screwed. She will know I stayed up all night drinking and be pissed. An unremarkable object turning up in a remarkable place is one of my top drunken giveaways. I bounce around the house giving everything the once over. There are no extreme objects out of place in the house or outside. The only thing that is missing is the toilet roll holder. "Fuck where is it!" It takes me about half an hour to find it wrapped in bubble wrap and taped to the wall behind my Jackson Pollockesq painting in the dining room. I bought the painting for my mum a few years back. She didn't like it so she gave it back to me as a present. I think she forgot it was I who gave it to her, anyhow I love it. It was very kind of her, she has good taste.

But why I decided to look behind it for the toilet roll holder is beyond me, never mind why I put it there in the first place. I have no theoretical stance in which to explain it. I have always distanced myself from these acts, like saying ah man I was so fucked up I don't remember or it wasn't me baby I was drunk. But on this particular morning being able to find this toilet roll holder taped behind a painting, in record time. It normally takes me a few hours. It scared the shit out of me! I could have just been fragile from the booze, I don't know, but something happened. A thought occurred to me that I had never had before. If I can remember where I put it, I must have been conscious when doing it. And if I have done this consciously then I have no way of distancing myself from the act. This is me, not silly drunk fucked up me, just me. I sit down with my coffee and look in the mirror across the hall and finally I see what Penny sees.