Today I am Befuddled Bcademic

Today I am befuddled academic. I wear him like a cloak and I like him. He is polite and nice and just the right amount of suave not to cause offence. He has spindly fingers and wears a business suit with a scarf that looks endearing in an ill-fitting way. I wonder what he would drink and if it would be tea or perhaps he likes something else. I will find out as he reveals himself to me.

The young Chinese child opposite me is making hissing noises and trying to get my attention. At one point she shouts out:

“NOT AGAIN!”

And looks straight at me. I’m not sure I understand what this means. I have a paper to read, but I’m not reading it, I’m writing this. The constant clack-clack of my fingers on the keys is fast enough to be slightly painful on the loan laptop given to me for my research. I am told I must wipe it afterwards but I don’t suppose it matters.

I have been making a computer game but I think perhaps only a very select group of people will want to play it because I have so little money to promote it. On the overhead speaker a man is telling me the next stop will be Doncaster. I’m not 100% sure what Doncaster is like and I can’t remember whether I’ve been there. I think probably I have. Plausible I have. It seems likely that I stopped in a nice quiet pub between journeys and some of the locals eyed me suspiciously as I ordered a single of a whiskey far more expensive than I look like I can afford. Far more expensive, in fact, than I really can.

I am on the train to meet Rabbit-Cat, but it is not that same Rabbit-Cat I met before. This Rabbit-Cat is different. I haven’t even seen her yet, and I don’t know anything about her. Nor have we arranged a meeting and nor has anyone else told me to meet her. Yet somehow I know she will meet me somewhere. I get feelings like this sometimes, you know — some things just are.

I feel as if I am being marionetted by another creature and the movement of my fingers is no-longer my own, as if someone else is inhabiting my conciousness, as at many other points in my life I have been sure they are. This doesn’t so much concern me at the moment. I am more concerned with my writing and the slight pain in my knee and one of my feet from wearing ill-fitting shoes.

Lake of Tea Pt3

*The piece is unconnected with tea.*

Socrates: I think I need a councillor.

Goes to see a councillor.

Socrates: So, what’s it like to be a councillor?

Councillor: I’m asking the questions here.

Socrates: Obviously you’re unfamiliar with the implications of the Socratic method. You also clearly have a hang-up wherein you feel the need to impose your belief system on other people as a part and parcel of controlling others and therefore feeling validation about your own life. If I am to rebel at this stage I would become something you cannot control and therefore would ruin your life.

Councillor: I see that you have considered this thoroughly. What would the impact be on me?

Socrates: I believe the impact would be to make your life feel temporarily worse than it is now, but eventually you would leave the field of counselling and take up in another profession that’s potentially more useful. Like philosophy. Or bread-making.

Councillor: How does that make you feel?

Socrates: Pretty damn powerful, actually.

Councillor: Do you seek power?

Socrates: Yeah, but I’m trying not to.

Councillor: Why?

Socrates: Because I don’t trust myself with my own power.

Councillor: I’ll make you a pact. If you seek my genuine counselling I’ll directly consider another profession but only if you can prove to me that your methods of Jungian gorilla psyche-warfare are preferable. However, on current evidence you’re a complete head-case who alienates yourself from everyone in your life with a large number of exceptions of whom there are about one and a half and a quarter people you feel close to.

Voice in a background wearing an spiky collar: You can’t go to counselling in this building, Socrates, it’s for students only.

Socrates: I am a student.

Voice: Oh. Wait. What? I think the term ‘Socrates’ refers to a bunch of different people depending on who is reading it.

Socrates: What the fuck are you talking about?

Voice: No idea. I was just trying to join in with the crazy.

Text messages from a person recently met on a dating website who has declared mutual love for Socrates after about four days of actual sustained messaging, most of which took place on Instagram.

Socrates holds up the text messages:

Socrates: See, this proves how great I am.

Councillor: I’m really not sure how I can be of any help to you at this point. This is beyond even my consummate professional abilities. *unspoken:* Btw, do you ever feel like you hear voices coming out of the television?

Socrates: *unspoken*…