eviction (30/11/13)

Today finds me wandering around, muttering to myself about the ridiculousness of a world where it is ok for 10 men to knock down the bathroom wall and come invade my home, push me out onto the street, just because I am a squatter, the click of the tongue and the kiss of air through the front teeth as if I deserve it –

Inconvenient lifestyles and the obsolescence of honour in the modern world – fuck you, progress, seriously, fuck you – the incongruity of actions and reactions –

The owner of the property in question having turned off the water and electricity since Saturday afternoon, as if something to do on a day off, a frippery, after a walk in the park, after a good meal, turn it off access denied, if there is a fire you burn in hell with it – it is unlawful to cut off the water to an occupied building, except in London it seems, where the EU Human Rights court is just something those blasted Europeans are doing to complicate matters, an Englishman s home is his castle, yes his second home too, a Brit Banglaman s property is his to bash a wall down, on top of heads if he sees so fit, my home is nowhere, the street, my home is public domain, if only we could squat a castle, but that is far, far west –

Bless you child ( – melting – ) no one has ever been that honest with me – the honour of the open road – why do you travel if not to work? But we travel – to travel – sleeping on cold barn floors with the migrants – safer there – waiting for the wood to be chopped in the morning for the First Fire –

London. I m just sick of you now. You make me nauseous, I cant kill the roiling in my belly –

While the 2 other members of the household are outside talking to the police, 10 men come through the hole they ve just created in the bathroom wall and enter the living room where I am standing alone –

We are squatting here now he says. You cant do that, I say, this is not an empty building, this is my home –

I ve been trying to shout through the front door about the pounding of the sledgehammer, about the large men suddenly in the room with me, but there is a man standing on the other side of the door talking loudly over me, my 2 housemates cant hear and don’t know whats going on, the police are distracted (/inept/useless), they cant hear me scream don’t touch me don’t touch me –

And when I do finally let the police in, they re surprised sure, but act thick – oh they cant say for certain when the wall was destroyed, could have been today, could have been any day, and these men now say they re squatting here, cant they do that, how does that work?

They cant do that. This is my home. I m repeating myself already.  And yet its being allowed to unfold, right under my very eyes. And we re all about to be arrested for breach of the peace and suddenly my home is piling up in a dirty heap on the street, armfuls of personal effects, bedding and electrical equipment that we haven’t been able to see or use since they cut off the power and water (just after I invested in a new heater. Its been cold and my breath has frosted in my sleeping bag mornings), 20 minutes to get your stuff and leave, I m letting this slip through my fingers, I m allowing and facilitating this injustice upon myself because I am not fighting my fucking corner like I said I would (my masochistic brain thinks)

And the men sit around the candle on the living room table, police wander around unsteady tackle the spiral staircase gloomy –

I ring everyone I can. I skitter and slide over the tiled floor as I am frantic trying to pack things and move them out. Muchas cosas malas.

Cracked mirrors. The irony.

Motorcycle diaries.

Random wires and sockets.

The local boys lining the street outside to watch the fucking circus, the police just let it all happen

And that’s it then, still not settled, no home no room, the prospect of sleeping on couches til Christmas, sick to the teeth with this, outlaw life –

I think France, I think mountains, I think 2 wheels and nomadic existence, I am obviously not meant to live inside 4 walls, access to water is not my right, to seek shelter is not my right, even the police agree –

I go.

I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried

I think part of the issue here is that if you had just talked to us as we tried to open communication with you inside of physically pushing us about (assault, aggression), none of this would have needed to have happened, instead you used violence against us and showed a complete disregard for human existence – you cant go to court because you know your papers are not in order, so we are punished –

For shame.

I think you re a complete asshole, Mister Salim. That’s all.