Akathisia for the Common Man

Barely skimming the surface of sleep last night, or so it seemed. A dip beneath the surface of unconsciousness and straight into pale and feverish dreams, none of which I could remember when I woke.
I got tired of lying in bed, and got up before the alarm this morning at 7:15am. After a shower I forced myself to continue reading John Burnside's 'Living Nowhere'.
The walk to work. Hospital-warm day. Grey skies cover the sun, and the rain at lunchtime was as tepid as last night's sleep.
The sea was still throughout the day. No movement but for what looked like some lifeguard exercise; boats and fiugures in the water, bobbing in fluorescent jackets. I squinted my eyes to pretend they were sea serpents but could not quite believe it.
Walked back from work through the car park behind Family Investments. Went with a work colleague. Never been this way before. The dark underneath of concrete, sloping pipes and a secret world of doors to the Churchill Square shopping centre. Petrol-tainted sleep, Castrol GTX engine oil dreams.
There is a section in 'Living Nowhere' which is nothing short of genius. One of the protagonists, after the death of a friend, slips through a gap in a churchyard wall with no plan, and spends the next seventeen years drifting, from one casual job to another, through nowhere towns and a secretive British countryside. When he tires of one place he leaves, always wishing to be anonymous and unseen. Nothing to hold him down, nothing to mark him by the mere act of observation.
Sometimes -often, this summer- when I am in the bedsit the most - I feel like slipping through this metaphorical churchyard wall and into my own unobserved country. Walking seems to settle the disquieted air I breathe these days like nothing else. I am sure that when I move out of the bedsit - which seems an irrational and inexplicable impossibility - I'm sure I shall feel more settled. As it is the intense inner restlessness of this summer continues.
I sit facing away from the window, and it feels that the hallway is leaking through the gap under the door.
The House of Bedsits appears to observe - unnerve me - and fixes me here, like a haunting, or a photograph.
However, I am rather pleased at something; I bought 'World of the Dead - The Zombie Diaries 2' for £5:00 in CEX on the way home.
Slow moving flesh eating zombies will help me relax I'm sure...