While I am at my aunt's, sorting more papers, books, clothes, photographs, diaries, following traces, pursuing the life of a person who, I can see now, has not thrown anything (relevant or irrelevent) away for the last couple of years, I reach the Locarno, full of expectations of what might be happening here tonight. I am told that I am carrying a drum kit though I am also told that I need to find a drum kit. Since in my mission I was informed that I could play the drum (and, as some of you may recall, I’ve been wanting to play the drum since the beginning of this game), I decide that this will be the moment, at last, in which I will have my fifteen minutes of glory. So I play my drum kit, full of trepidation about what might happen. Instead, I am told that ‘I can’t even rock a baby.’ I am also still feeling peaky.

Somehow, I think that by playing the drum, I’ve used it, but I don’t realise that I am still carrying a drum. So I pick up another drum kit and drop the one I already had. Funny how food is consumed but objects seem to last. Meanwhile, a flier flutters into my face (I am actually named on this message, which has an uncanny effect). I am told to head toward the Locarno at 10. I do so, play the drum but, again, I am told that 'I can't even rock a baby'. This irritates me and I no longer understand why I was told to go to the Locarno, why I was told to play, and why I keep on being told that I need a drum kit when in fact I am carrying one. This is the first time that I am irritated with the game in this way and I wonder whether this has to do with the fact I have been writing about it for so long now and am beginning to run out of energy. I also begin to feel caught in repetition, both in terms of my actions witin the game, and my own writings about them.

Steven Connor, in commenting about the value of repetition states: ‘repetition must always repeat originality, must always depend on some thing or idea which is by definition pre-existing, autonomous and self-identical. Repetition is therefore subordinated to the idea of the original, as something secondary and inessential.’ (1988: 3). He then adds, ‘originality or essence can never be apprehended as such unless the possibility exists for it to be copied or reiterated’ (ibid.). Repetition therefore marks the place where difference confirms identity (ibid.: 6). I will come back on the link betwen this, Forced Entertainment and the pervasiveness of Day of the Figurines. Meanwhile, I arrive at Ron’s Top Chip Shop. I think that I need a saveloy. ANNABELLE and JOANA are here but this time I don’t even try to talk to them. My health is now fine. I pick up my drumkit again, and head for the Vic. MARTIN is still here with his defibrillator. I look for BERLIN but cannot find them.

I head towards the internet cafe where I have been sending my blog from every day since being here at Hamburg. I am leaving town shortly and need to confirm some travel next week. I am so immersed in this documentation that I have lost the sense of where I am within it. I arrive at the Video zone but realise I need money. I know where to get money, but think that I should probably go back to the Locarno where I look for other players again, without success. I am told I need a drum kit, but I have of course been carrying one all day long. Meanwhile, troups are spreading round me. I try to play the drum again, with the same effect as before. I have a flight to catch. Time to go.

For my game tomorrow go to Day of the Figurines 14/10/2006