Sunday 31 October 2010
i'd like to walk around in your mind someday -
i'd sing all of my songs and find out just what they mean to you.
did i mention halloween is my favourite day? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MAKING IT MORE OF AN EVENT THEN? hmmmm?
This morning my lovely flatmate Will of the dislocated if gorgeous shoulder attempted to break into my room in order to wake me up. At the moment it's lucky if I'm even wearing pj bums let alone some sort of top to sleep in, and the sudden sound of man hitting opposite side of door combined with realisation of lacking of clothes is enough of a wake up call to get me out of bed, startled, into jumper and yelling good morning far faster than one would presume possible. Can't open the door yet, though, because I have to take out my retainer, because it is gross and spitty and if I think about it too much makes me feel a little ill. This was a comparatively good start to my day.
They dragged me to town for costume searching. This is a process which for me takes about 5 minutes and for my macho lads takes about an hour and a half:
'oo if i got an axe I could be an executioner'
'are they really going to let you into a club with a 6 foot axe?'
'this hat makes me look shmexy'
'no it really doesn't'
'if I wear this kitten mask and these devil horns...'
'...you will get hit on by all the homos there! Yay!'
I have to admit that I cannot deal with masks before I've had my coffee. Especially ones on people the store had hired to jump out at you. I have the constition of a stranded jellyfish when it comes to fear - I try to sting anything which comes near me. Or which I imagine comes near me. I scream too much. I hate people who scream at the little things and use words like horrible, but I'm afraid I did. Ugh.
Now I'm tapping my fingers waiting for someone to realise that I need MORE from this Halloween. WHERE ARE MY CANDY MONSTER THINGS? WHY HAVE WE NOT CARVED A PUMPKIN?
One other thing. I miss Trader Joes.
freakin awesome blogpost: http://wateringtheelephants.blogspot.com/2010/10/off-market.html
They dragged me to town for costume searching. This is a process which for me takes about 5 minutes and for my macho lads takes about an hour and a half:
'oo if i got an axe I could be an executioner'
'are they really going to let you into a club with a 6 foot axe?'
'this hat makes me look shmexy'
'no it really doesn't'
'if I wear this kitten mask and these devil horns...'
'...you will get hit on by all the homos there! Yay!'
I have to admit that I cannot deal with masks before I've had my coffee. Especially ones on people the store had hired to jump out at you. I have the constition of a stranded jellyfish when it comes to fear - I try to sting anything which comes near me. Or which I imagine comes near me. I scream too much. I hate people who scream at the little things and use words like horrible, but I'm afraid I did. Ugh.
Now I'm tapping my fingers waiting for someone to realise that I need MORE from this Halloween. WHERE ARE MY CANDY MONSTER THINGS? WHY HAVE WE NOT CARVED A PUMPKIN?
One other thing. I miss Trader Joes.
freakin awesome blogpost: http://wateringtheelephants.blogspot.com/2010/10/off-market.html
Saturday 30 October 2010
but i love halloween
http://lesinfin.blogspot.com/
One: The desperate will smoke things they find laying on the ground.
Two: You cannot be punished if you don’t care.
And three: Direction is relative.
CAKE SONGS - hem of your garment.
i miss summer.
http://www.simonebadour.com/
which i found through
http://peterdewolf.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/summer.pdf
aha finally got some sleep
seeing straight at this time of the day! Not too much alcohol in the system despite centurians!
but still not entirely straight as my guilty feelings just transfer themselves from one thing to another. Oh dear, abandoning you after such a cocky little comment 'well this is a new record for us - normally we're all over each other within ten minutes. I think we should give it another half an hour.'
but don't you see? It has to be my decision. For some reason. So I abandoned you. I'm not very good at taking people seriously anyway. Like Avatar Cullen boy. 'You're only the second girl I've ever kissed. And then you went and kissed him right in front of me.'
So why am I blogging this? Well, it's an image isn't it. A life fragmented by others emotions. I wonder what I feel? A little amused, a little guilty, a little disgusted... But mainly like I'm a bad person. And under all that, really interested. My little lyric poem I'm in is getting gnarly. I wonder what this is doing to me? I wonder how long it will take for me to get bored? I wonder if I will ever find someone who takes me seriously.
Last night, sitting in the corridor with Rob, reading out J M G Le Clezio and discussing Kerouac and Kafka, finally felt like I was at university. The problems with this scene: -does he remember he kissed me that night he got really drunk and if so what does he feel about that? -i'm tipsy -there's too much going on around us -i feel bad about something or other -i haven't done my work yet -i don't really 'get' rob, at all.
Blitzkreig by Pure Reason Revolution.
but still not entirely straight as my guilty feelings just transfer themselves from one thing to another. Oh dear, abandoning you after such a cocky little comment 'well this is a new record for us - normally we're all over each other within ten minutes. I think we should give it another half an hour.'
but don't you see? It has to be my decision. For some reason. So I abandoned you. I'm not very good at taking people seriously anyway. Like Avatar Cullen boy. 'You're only the second girl I've ever kissed. And then you went and kissed him right in front of me.'
So why am I blogging this? Well, it's an image isn't it. A life fragmented by others emotions. I wonder what I feel? A little amused, a little guilty, a little disgusted... But mainly like I'm a bad person. And under all that, really interested. My little lyric poem I'm in is getting gnarly. I wonder what this is doing to me? I wonder how long it will take for me to get bored? I wonder if I will ever find someone who takes me seriously.
Last night, sitting in the corridor with Rob, reading out J M G Le Clezio and discussing Kerouac and Kafka, finally felt like I was at university. The problems with this scene: -does he remember he kissed me that night he got really drunk and if so what does he feel about that? -i'm tipsy -there's too much going on around us -i feel bad about something or other -i haven't done my work yet -i don't really 'get' rob, at all.
Blitzkreig by Pure Reason Revolution.
Friday 29 October 2010
I promise...
...that I do actually care. The heath with its gnawed gum horizons. I care. I'm just fucked up right now.
...that one day I'll make you forgive me.
...that I don't mean to be like this.
...that I want to give, but I'm not that kind.
...that I still feel.
...that I know how fucked up it is that I kiss people simply to see how they react, who they are, to know them, because it's like the urge to smoke while drunk, it's like an addiction, a habit when I find myself in certain situations.
...that I am still capable of deeper thoughts.
...that one day I'll make you forgive me.
...that I don't mean to be like this.
...that I want to give, but I'm not that kind.
...that I still feel.
...that I know how fucked up it is that I kiss people simply to see how they react, who they are, to know them, because it's like the urge to smoke while drunk, it's like an addiction, a habit when I find myself in certain situations.
...that I am still capable of deeper thoughts.
this is not my obligation
you'll say,
did they love you or what?
and i'll say
the love what i do - the only one who really loves me is you.
and you'll say,
girl, did you kick some butt??
and i'll say
i don't really remember... but my fingers are sore and my voice is tender.
The wind is exploding the amber leaves outside, flicking them off the earth, plucking big yellow sheets off the trees, twisting branches, refusing to let go.
Song for today - Oren Lavie's Her Morning Elegance.
And, she fights for her life as she puts on her coat, and she fights for her life on the train. She looks at the rain, as it pours... And she fights for her life as she goes in a store, with a thought she has caught by a thread. She pays for the bread, and she goes - nobody knows.
I wake up with my hair greasy from the people who have run their fingers though it. It takes a second for me to realise I'm late for running over to see Mailee before she leaves so I roll over and there's someone knocking on the door, and in comes the guy from the night before who wouldn't leave my room. I growl a conversation at him, the original Miss Grumpy. Then I bite my pillow and pluck up the paranoia to get out of bed and change my pj bums for a skirt, put monkey hat on over the thick greasy mask covering my skull, pick up a carton of juice which has been out of the fridge for a few days, fall over the internet cable, find my face next to a mostly empty buiscuit packet. This is not what I expected to be there. I stand up and jam my toes into my shoes, borrow Eva's phone to call Mailee so she'll let me in, almost fall down the concrete stairs again, and walk down the slippery road to the carpeted luxury of Opal. I need to ask Mailee if I can borrow her oven when she gets back, to bake some cupcakes. I forget to do this. Instead, I write a birthday card, am disorientated and probably awful at conversation, and am amazed by her beauty but forget to tell her this. Why can I not be wearing a pretty dress? My mind is proud of her but it's like when you write something you don't understand into your essay just to sound clever - I could never look that good even if I wore that dress. Sad times. Devotion unswerving I get over it and we go downstairs and I remember glaring at Matt and getting with... three? guys in a row infront of him because he was NOT my only option. Waltz through the empty streets.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? You're a hard one! But I know that you've got your reasons, these things that are pleasing you can hurt you somehow.
Why is autumn not heavy with fruit? I walk past an apple tree when I go into town and all the apples are rotten and I think of them as empty and squidgy, soft gourds which would disintegrate under my touch.
Do you remember everything?
Maybe.
The bathrooms in Rococo's are my favourite place to talk to myself.
I've run out of credit, again.
I don't know what you and your sisters do, but please don't - please stop - this is not my obligation.
How many lies can we all tell?
Are my kisses lies?
I think so.
'don't do this, i don't understand why pretty girls can't just admit they're beautiful!'
'i'm not'
'at least you can say you're not ugly'
You've got it all wrong! Why the hell do you feel the need to compliment my appearance, to force me to agree with your idea of what I want to hear?
'Please leave'
'But I'm comfortable'
'I need to sleep'
'No! You don't have any lectures tomorrow!'
'So? I still need sleep.'
'I'll be really quiet'
What the hell? Are you a four year old? I love having someone I love in my bed. Love in that broad sense. In my bed in the spatial sense. Yeah, it's lonely if there's no one there. I'm not getting locked into depending on that though. I don't mind being lonely.
Tuesday 26 October 2010
Sunday 24 October 2010
There's pictures of me practically kissing girls all over facebook right now. This comes at the very moment I decide that, although I take each person as an individual and try to ignore my preconceptions about how I should behave towards them, I do indeed tend to prefer guys to girls, sexually and romantically.
I probably ought to start paying attention to my course rather than my social and spiritual and romantic life.
I sent the bitchyest text ever yesterday. It made me feel happy at the time and now I feel awful. He'd been texting me about whether I 'wanted his virginity' and whether I'd basically go over and screw him. Firstly, I'm too lazy to walk all the way over there simply to tell him to go fuck himself. Secondly, I'm not some sort of call girl, waiting on his word to tell me when he wants me. Thirdly, so untactful to just put it out there like that!
'O dear. You know i never believed your virginity crap and even if i did its getting a bit wierd! Especially as alice seemed so keen to get me into your bed too... If you wanted to fuck me that badly you could have offered a date or something vaguely interesting rather than your inebriated txts... Remember that next time youtry to get anyone other than a complete slut to screw you :) see you around XXXX'
Obviously I'm refering to not Alice Smith. Who is lovely.
I'm a bad person.
When I knock over the plastic cups at dinner I leave them for the people who work there to clean up. How awful can I be :( :( :(
I probably ought to start paying attention to my course rather than my social and spiritual and romantic life.
I sent the bitchyest text ever yesterday. It made me feel happy at the time and now I feel awful. He'd been texting me about whether I 'wanted his virginity' and whether I'd basically go over and screw him. Firstly, I'm too lazy to walk all the way over there simply to tell him to go fuck himself. Secondly, I'm not some sort of call girl, waiting on his word to tell me when he wants me. Thirdly, so untactful to just put it out there like that!
'O dear. You know i never believed your virginity crap and even if i did its getting a bit wierd! Especially as alice seemed so keen to get me into your bed too... If you wanted to fuck me that badly you could have offered a date or something vaguely interesting rather than your inebriated txts... Remember that next time youtry to get anyone other than a complete slut to screw you :) see you around XXXX'
Obviously I'm refering to not Alice Smith. Who is lovely.
I'm a bad person.
When I knock over the plastic cups at dinner I leave them for the people who work there to clean up. How awful can I be :( :( :(
Tuesday 19 October 2010
i cant be fucking bothered to text you back, bastard
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVBsypHzF3U
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ05vzaLibY
found my femenist reasoning.
to be honest, i'd never really listened to Telephone before, let alone watched the music video. totally worth it. IDENTIFIED WHERE I'M GOING WITH ALL THIS.
i refuse to be put into gender stereotypes. i refuse to make a distinction.
but where do i wish to make a distinction? if i'm breaking out of traditions, then where do i stop? 'we all think' - but what about people with minimal brain capacity? 'we're all human'... does this work? i'm sure i must be missing something. it'll do for now.
but actually i don't like that anyway. why put people into types? it's the individual that counts! we are not conforming - by holding these views i'm not promising to hold other views, or to act in a certain way. i am only propounding the view i have right now at this moment.
so yeah, fuck you. i hate answering messages. stop texting me asking where i am because you want to fuck me. stop texting me stuff i cant understand. stop calling me because you need someone to listen. i'm waiting for you to talk to me face to face.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ05vzaLibY
found my femenist reasoning.
to be honest, i'd never really listened to Telephone before, let alone watched the music video. totally worth it. IDENTIFIED WHERE I'M GOING WITH ALL THIS.
i refuse to be put into gender stereotypes. i refuse to make a distinction.
but where do i wish to make a distinction? if i'm breaking out of traditions, then where do i stop? 'we all think' - but what about people with minimal brain capacity? 'we're all human'... does this work? i'm sure i must be missing something. it'll do for now.
but actually i don't like that anyway. why put people into types? it's the individual that counts! we are not conforming - by holding these views i'm not promising to hold other views, or to act in a certain way. i am only propounding the view i have right now at this moment.
so yeah, fuck you. i hate answering messages. stop texting me asking where i am because you want to fuck me. stop texting me stuff i cant understand. stop calling me because you need someone to listen. i'm waiting for you to talk to me face to face.
fight fight fight
have you noticed when you tear a cookie in two, if it's a good one it makes a soft damp noise?
i'm a feminist. i'm an emancipated woman. if i give reasons like 'i can do whatever i want, i'm using them, not the other way around' then that's totally okay, as long as i occasionally kiss someone of the same sex in order to perpetuate queer theory. no? i need to research exactly how i want my feminist argument for my existance to go.
will's gone and i didn't see him for like 3 days before he left and i miss his humour and i miss him being there for me, and i miss waking up to see him outside my door, and i miss watching ridiculous programs with him, and i miss his shoulders and i miss his smile. i miss other people thinking there's something going on between us.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/oct/16/easy-a-is-so-intellectual adaptations of some interesting novels. great. what i always wanted, really.
i am worried that blethyn is coming back because although he's brilliant and makes me laugh and laugh and laugh and fall over giggling he also is my witness. and i ruined his night. squeak squeak squeak.
i think i go for people i think will be interesting. music, words, ideas. i haven't once thought, o, he's hot, let's get with him. this distresses me. particularly when i look back at every single guy i've ever liked and discover it's always been that way. always.
i people watch by kissing.
they brought me drinks and drinks and i kissed him for being late and we fed the birds bread and bread and bread and they'd blow up if we gave them bicarbonate of soda and they were flying right at my face like they'd tear the bread from my hand and i screamed and felt silly. it was like seeing the australians (m&m) again, and i felt guilty and nervous and amused. why does anyone bother with me. gross gross gross i don't really want to ... o we did?
i enjoyed kissing jess more than most of the guys i've kissed recently. (sorry if jack still reads this i probably ought not to mention these things but there we go)
i've been drunk for the last 24 hours.
tomski tomek tomski tomek.
how to scour sick from my sink with only tissues and my hands?
change the sheets!
'let me in!' 'you're a dick' 'this is making me laugh so much' 'go get your duvet you little gimp' 'come with me' 'okay' 'eva unlock the door' 'no!' 'you alright man?' 'they locked me out' 'eva?' 'where's he gone?' 'i'll change it' 'hahahaha'
o, the deep and meaningful conversations leaking under my door from the hallway.
i'm a feminist. i'm an emancipated woman. if i give reasons like 'i can do whatever i want, i'm using them, not the other way around' then that's totally okay, as long as i occasionally kiss someone of the same sex in order to perpetuate queer theory. no? i need to research exactly how i want my feminist argument for my existance to go.
will's gone and i didn't see him for like 3 days before he left and i miss his humour and i miss him being there for me, and i miss waking up to see him outside my door, and i miss watching ridiculous programs with him, and i miss his shoulders and i miss his smile. i miss other people thinking there's something going on between us.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/oct/16/easy-a-is-so-intellectual adaptations of some interesting novels. great. what i always wanted, really.
i am worried that blethyn is coming back because although he's brilliant and makes me laugh and laugh and laugh and fall over giggling he also is my witness. and i ruined his night. squeak squeak squeak.
i think i go for people i think will be interesting. music, words, ideas. i haven't once thought, o, he's hot, let's get with him. this distresses me. particularly when i look back at every single guy i've ever liked and discover it's always been that way. always.
i people watch by kissing.
they brought me drinks and drinks and i kissed him for being late and we fed the birds bread and bread and bread and they'd blow up if we gave them bicarbonate of soda and they were flying right at my face like they'd tear the bread from my hand and i screamed and felt silly. it was like seeing the australians (m&m) again, and i felt guilty and nervous and amused. why does anyone bother with me. gross gross gross i don't really want to ... o we did?
i enjoyed kissing jess more than most of the guys i've kissed recently. (sorry if jack still reads this i probably ought not to mention these things but there we go)
i've been drunk for the last 24 hours.
tomski tomek tomski tomek.
how to scour sick from my sink with only tissues and my hands?
change the sheets!
'let me in!' 'you're a dick' 'this is making me laugh so much' 'go get your duvet you little gimp' 'come with me' 'okay' 'eva unlock the door' 'no!' 'you alright man?' 'they locked me out' 'eva?' 'where's he gone?' 'i'll change it' 'hahahaha'
o, the deep and meaningful conversations leaking under my door from the hallway.
Friday 15 October 2010
She’s got you high
Song for today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjsh2j7W6Bo Nancy Sinatra’s Sugar Town. I love the way she walks at 1:30. I watched The Great Race which is from two years before Sugar Town, and still found it hilarious, beautiful, awesome, and hyperbole-deserving. A movie with people fencing in it is always good. Speaking of which, I miss watching The Princess Bride.
Average of 10 a week.
Could be worse, right?
Irish rogue! You’re Welsh, not a Catholic! Don’t pull that one on me...
I don’t like not having any credit. Or battery. It’s depressing. Feels like I’m reluctantly playing hard to get. But then, I thoroughly dislike being continually contactable.
It was a time of confidence.
Not sure what work I should be doing.
It’s weird being home. Have I changed? Everyone thinks I’m utterly ill. It’s nice to have that much concern directed at me, without it being about whether I was okay the night before.
I miss being able to sing.
I miss being able to breath.
I feel like my mouth needs cleansing.
It’s cold. I brought a hat. It’s Alex’s, to be honest. My new coat makes me look like a failed attempt at the 20s. Or the 80s. Some time with big shoulders. It’s like a living thing – leaves hair all over the place. It’s embroidered. I made them take it off the manikin so that I could buy it before I even knew how much it was. I miss money.
Best cake ever this morning. Apple and almond slice. Moist, fluffy, heavy, light, cooked apple slices, almond shards, nom nom nom
Average of 10 a week.
Could be worse, right?
Irish rogue! You’re Welsh, not a Catholic! Don’t pull that one on me...
I don’t like not having any credit. Or battery. It’s depressing. Feels like I’m reluctantly playing hard to get. But then, I thoroughly dislike being continually contactable.
It was a time of confidence.
Not sure what work I should be doing.
It’s weird being home. Have I changed? Everyone thinks I’m utterly ill. It’s nice to have that much concern directed at me, without it being about whether I was okay the night before.
I miss being able to sing.
I miss being able to breath.
I feel like my mouth needs cleansing.
It’s cold. I brought a hat. It’s Alex’s, to be honest. My new coat makes me look like a failed attempt at the 20s. Or the 80s. Some time with big shoulders. It’s like a living thing – leaves hair all over the place. It’s embroidered. I made them take it off the manikin so that I could buy it before I even knew how much it was. I miss money.
Best cake ever this morning. Apple and almond slice. Moist, fluffy, heavy, light, cooked apple slices, almond shards, nom nom nom
Wednesday 13 October 2010
bedsprings are just awkward
so is waking up at 6:30.
i wonder, do you miss the earth?
once upon a time there was a terrible person who now needs to go curl up in a hole and die.
im feeling particularly ungrammatical.
im feeling particularly naked.
i wonder, do you miss the earth?
once upon a time there was a terrible person who now needs to go curl up in a hole and die.
im feeling particularly ungrammatical.
im feeling particularly naked.
Tuesday 12 October 2010
living by your side, what a heavenly way to die
No. no no no. I refuse. Fuck off.
Gutter gutter gutter cliché
I look like a monkey / wisdom / chatter / you’re Chris, right / repetition / monsters / terror / darkness all around / hand on shoulder / I am not alright / it will be amazing / who are you / black black is the night / yellow / what / yellow is the moon / who said that / asexual you sexual me / wall against bare back / whose voice is that / can you hear a printer? / the corridors are too narrow / where / no / why is the back bare? / come on / it would be fun / pickaxe / I’m scared / here have a cigarette / sitting on beer barrels / butterbeer / gullible tours / first to four / first to four / shots? / I’m on three / no I like the wall / no I like the fabric / sledgehammer / beautiful gay guy / gay / who are you? / you’re fine / no / are those nines? / where’s nancy / why are there eyes there / chandelier / unplug fridge / why does this feel necessary / red trunk / falling
I’m alive.
There’s a field of flowers here and a pond and trees and I love love love walking around and it’s like there’s never any time any time at all.
Song for today - Us by Regina Spektor.
Why didn’t you tell me that the darling buds of May only lead to Flowering? Spring/Summer but you’re trying to change all that she wants to be Autumn I want to be Summer but we’re always the wrong way around. How funny that intelligence still gets trapped in the imagery of the screen.
Everyone is archetypal.
I don’t care. I don’t care where we’re going. I don’t care who knows. Why should I believe in privacy? Put it online, why should I hide? I’m smiling in the photo, right? Is that a smile? Or is that just a shape? My friend sees shapes when he listens to music. Why am I listening to The Smiths?
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.
I kind of wish I hadn’t watched any movies, ever.
I have to find The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser. My meditation leader has beautiful breath and a beautiful voice and recommended it.
Gutter gutter gutter cliché
I look like a monkey / wisdom / chatter / you’re Chris, right / repetition / monsters / terror / darkness all around / hand on shoulder / I am not alright / it will be amazing / who are you / black black is the night / yellow / what / yellow is the moon / who said that / asexual you sexual me / wall against bare back / whose voice is that / can you hear a printer? / the corridors are too narrow / where / no / why is the back bare? / come on / it would be fun / pickaxe / I’m scared / here have a cigarette / sitting on beer barrels / butterbeer / gullible tours / first to four / first to four / shots? / I’m on three / no I like the wall / no I like the fabric / sledgehammer / beautiful gay guy / gay / who are you? / you’re fine / no / are those nines? / where’s nancy / why are there eyes there / chandelier / unplug fridge / why does this feel necessary / red trunk / falling
I’m alive.
There’s a field of flowers here and a pond and trees and I love love love walking around and it’s like there’s never any time any time at all.
Song for today - Us by Regina Spektor.
Why didn’t you tell me that the darling buds of May only lead to Flowering? Spring/Summer but you’re trying to change all that she wants to be Autumn I want to be Summer but we’re always the wrong way around. How funny that intelligence still gets trapped in the imagery of the screen.
Everyone is archetypal.
I don’t care. I don’t care where we’re going. I don’t care who knows. Why should I believe in privacy? Put it online, why should I hide? I’m smiling in the photo, right? Is that a smile? Or is that just a shape? My friend sees shapes when he listens to music. Why am I listening to The Smiths?
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.
I kind of wish I hadn’t watched any movies, ever.
I have to find The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser. My meditation leader has beautiful breath and a beautiful voice and recommended it.
Friday 8 October 2010
they're just so easy to play with
what does 'too much' mean, again? it's funny that i can remember EIGHT but not enough names or even faces to match up to that... maybe enough t-shirts... curly hair. life guard. can't remember. can't remember. life guard again. inappropriate. can't remember. blue flowers. chris.
the best bit is the moment before you kiss. You can see everything, eternity, nothing, infinity, all laid out in the blurred pupil...
damn damn damn.
it's like a scene from skins! this music, that'd be in the background, and then cassy would start dancing to it... why am i dancing?
Break into the grounds, down the hill, river weeds, back up! sit in the DAPPLED sunlight and get attacked by falling leaves - we love autumn - and think heavy heavy fermented rotted inside I'm like a gourd, all hard and mellow on the outside but inside writhing, like a fig, fucked up. But that's not what I was thinking about, I was wishing I could wear normal clothes or pretty clothes not weirdo clothes I was thinking about the frivolities of my existance about us dancing around the tree in our minds...
Cheese sandwhiches... I want more chutney in my life.
Once upon a time...
... there were white lines painted on tarmac and bright lights and faces looking down at us.
... we were moonshine, sliding down the long throat of a giraffe.
rushing
rushing
rushing
Corruption was everywhere back then, like gravity. We’d never understood how our bowl of hills had heated us in its palm until passions were all we had, but behind our bow ties we’re all children. They used to ask ‘why the long long long long face’ and we could only conjure ribbons for answers.
The money we had was burnable, turnable, solemnly vowed to be curable our diseases all sprouted from notes like mould, like envy. Who knew where we were going we only hid in our humanity to avoid the bounce bounce tarmac heaven which would stick to our souls because ink was not enough – no, it could never satisfy our picture frame throats. He didn’t even have a chance, that one, his stars were plastic not crosses, not sacrifice but a roll of the dice we lost ourselves in the buttons all up tour necks like we’re cartoons, these days, mirrored in perpetual motion to perpetuate equality frivolity look at those shoes! Who has the power here your hands are too small for all that, let me take that for you, from you, we’re gone we’re falling, spiraling but god we were never free we never lost our parachutes we’re real reality echoing banality nails are gleaming we’re screaming so come come your eyes in my glasses drowning my sorrows in your teeth which you hide to be serious young crocodile. She was vanilla vanilla not mixed just the straight edge dyed green. Reflect reflect on the returns of emotion commotion we’ll never get out of here.
the best bit is the moment before you kiss. You can see everything, eternity, nothing, infinity, all laid out in the blurred pupil...
damn damn damn.
it's like a scene from skins! this music, that'd be in the background, and then cassy would start dancing to it... why am i dancing?
Break into the grounds, down the hill, river weeds, back up! sit in the DAPPLED sunlight and get attacked by falling leaves - we love autumn - and think heavy heavy fermented rotted inside I'm like a gourd, all hard and mellow on the outside but inside writhing, like a fig, fucked up. But that's not what I was thinking about, I was wishing I could wear normal clothes or pretty clothes not weirdo clothes I was thinking about the frivolities of my existance about us dancing around the tree in our minds...
Cheese sandwhiches... I want more chutney in my life.
Once upon a time...
... there were white lines painted on tarmac and bright lights and faces looking down at us.
... we were moonshine, sliding down the long throat of a giraffe.
rushing
rushing
rushing
Corruption was everywhere back then, like gravity. We’d never understood how our bowl of hills had heated us in its palm until passions were all we had, but behind our bow ties we’re all children. They used to ask ‘why the long long long long face’ and we could only conjure ribbons for answers.
The money we had was burnable, turnable, solemnly vowed to be curable our diseases all sprouted from notes like mould, like envy. Who knew where we were going we only hid in our humanity to avoid the bounce bounce tarmac heaven which would stick to our souls because ink was not enough – no, it could never satisfy our picture frame throats. He didn’t even have a chance, that one, his stars were plastic not crosses, not sacrifice but a roll of the dice we lost ourselves in the buttons all up tour necks like we’re cartoons, these days, mirrored in perpetual motion to perpetuate equality frivolity look at those shoes! Who has the power here your hands are too small for all that, let me take that for you, from you, we’re gone we’re falling, spiraling but god we were never free we never lost our parachutes we’re real reality echoing banality nails are gleaming we’re screaming so come come your eyes in my glasses drowning my sorrows in your teeth which you hide to be serious young crocodile. She was vanilla vanilla not mixed just the straight edge dyed green. Reflect reflect on the returns of emotion commotion we’ll never get out of here.
Wednesday 6 October 2010
Eve got all the brains
Read the text. She goes through all the thought processes - nutrients, aesthetics, wisdom - and then she eats it, and then when Adam gets offered it, he just goes ahead. And then what does the little fucker do? He plays his blame game, totally blames it all on her - 'o deary me, god, it was all Eve's fault'. Screwball.
Gilgamesh... Civilising through sex is BIZARRE. Is the woman passive or active? Why is the female the civilising force? Why does she do as she is told? How do they know that she can do it? Why is she described as being so passive? Is it naive?
Football sucks when the crowd are all rah rah rah. I hate english cheerleaders. I stared at the floodlights until I could no longer see.
Listened to Will's girlfriend on his voicemail and she sounded too much like me except more how she looks and more concrete, I think, although how would I know how I sound... it's just the tonal patterns which were familiar. I love hiding behind my husky voice I've got going on here. I don't like how much I know about her. Especially as I also know the huge poster of some damp naked model on Will's wall far too well. And I know Will's body far too well, by sight, that is, that sounds sexual, but it's not, he just gets changed in front of me... I could never sound so honestly and completely in love as she does. I don't think. Maybe I can. I doubt my ability to feel emotions. In specific, romantic ones. Can I class that as another part of the human condition? That and blisters?
Matt is playing guitar down the hall and I know it's him because he's singing and (fittingly, as he's a christian) he has the voice of an angel.
PICNIC WITH MAILEE TOMORROW!
Gilgamesh... Civilising through sex is BIZARRE. Is the woman passive or active? Why is the female the civilising force? Why does she do as she is told? How do they know that she can do it? Why is she described as being so passive? Is it naive?
Football sucks when the crowd are all rah rah rah. I hate english cheerleaders. I stared at the floodlights until I could no longer see.
Listened to Will's girlfriend on his voicemail and she sounded too much like me except more how she looks and more concrete, I think, although how would I know how I sound... it's just the tonal patterns which were familiar. I love hiding behind my husky voice I've got going on here. I don't like how much I know about her. Especially as I also know the huge poster of some damp naked model on Will's wall far too well. And I know Will's body far too well, by sight, that is, that sounds sexual, but it's not, he just gets changed in front of me... I could never sound so honestly and completely in love as she does. I don't think. Maybe I can. I doubt my ability to feel emotions. In specific, romantic ones. Can I class that as another part of the human condition? That and blisters?
Matt is playing guitar down the hall and I know it's him because he's singing and (fittingly, as he's a christian) he has the voice of an angel.
PICNIC WITH MAILEE TOMORROW!
Monday 4 October 2010
Furthermore
If we all wrote like that we'd get no marks. They said, highfaluting language like Foucault and people would get us bad grades. I always knew it was better to say these things simply. I’m still here, waving you on.
watch my steady lonesome gait and be aware
Sitting in computer room of library because I broke my extension lead for the plugs, so my computer has died. Again. Everything I have I keep losing/breaking/not charging/ messing up. I wish I was better with the word no. It’s all about the things I wish I hadn’t done.
I still love university, but I do now spend most of my time examining exactly how soaked in sin I am. I went to church yesterday. Woke up in someone else’s bed that morning so I went to repent and I kept going academic about the Bible passage – ahh yes, maybe Jesus is encouraging us in our suffering (their expectations of humanity are so low – it’s a matter of course that they should be criticised for their faith, apparently. I hate that. Self-centred...) but then actually that’s in John’s gospel and they’d just been thrown out of the synagogue so isn’t it actually just John trying to rally their spirits by making out that Jesus was right behind them? Every time I had a critical thought I was sure it was actually a devil in me. I’m awful. I need to grow out of just going along with what other people tell me to do.
I should go outside where it’s sunny, finally, after all this rain... but I feel too vulnerable. Why can’t I just stop being like this, wait around, fall in love, remember what love actually is...
Stop being such a romantic fucker. Spoke to a girl yesterday who claimed to be asexual and I said I was just sexual. She claimed romance. I blabbed out my sex life. She was shocked. Almost as shocked as the woman at the safer sex stall when I grabbed an entire handful of condoms and ran off. I think wearing pyjamas to do that really made it into an event.
I always was who I am.
My first lecture was incredible. I’m in love with Shwyzer the lecturer. I love Wimsatt, Foucault, Barthes (good old Ronald. It was like a familiar face, I felt like I was going home when I saw his quotes, is it bad I read him for fun last year? And beowolf too, thank god, because I am so behind on this reading.)
I adore everyone. If they could make a perfect person for me I’d mess it up with them. I’m far too loving. ‘Are you generous?’ ‘With my body, not with my opinions.’ No one takes me seriously, because I'm a terrible person.
Talked to Vivi on the phone yesterday and didn’t recognise her voice for a bit. She said, ‘I went to watch a plie’ and I was like, a plie? Apparently she was actually saying play, obviously... maybe she was just being funny.
I still love university, but I do now spend most of my time examining exactly how soaked in sin I am. I went to church yesterday. Woke up in someone else’s bed that morning so I went to repent and I kept going academic about the Bible passage – ahh yes, maybe Jesus is encouraging us in our suffering (their expectations of humanity are so low – it’s a matter of course that they should be criticised for their faith, apparently. I hate that. Self-centred...) but then actually that’s in John’s gospel and they’d just been thrown out of the synagogue so isn’t it actually just John trying to rally their spirits by making out that Jesus was right behind them? Every time I had a critical thought I was sure it was actually a devil in me. I’m awful. I need to grow out of just going along with what other people tell me to do.
I should go outside where it’s sunny, finally, after all this rain... but I feel too vulnerable. Why can’t I just stop being like this, wait around, fall in love, remember what love actually is...
Stop being such a romantic fucker. Spoke to a girl yesterday who claimed to be asexual and I said I was just sexual. She claimed romance. I blabbed out my sex life. She was shocked. Almost as shocked as the woman at the safer sex stall when I grabbed an entire handful of condoms and ran off. I think wearing pyjamas to do that really made it into an event.
I always was who I am.
My first lecture was incredible. I’m in love with Shwyzer the lecturer. I love Wimsatt, Foucault, Barthes (good old Ronald. It was like a familiar face, I felt like I was going home when I saw his quotes, is it bad I read him for fun last year? And beowolf too, thank god, because I am so behind on this reading.)
I adore everyone. If they could make a perfect person for me I’d mess it up with them. I’m far too loving. ‘Are you generous?’ ‘With my body, not with my opinions.’ No one takes me seriously, because I'm a terrible person.
Talked to Vivi on the phone yesterday and didn’t recognise her voice for a bit. She said, ‘I went to watch a plie’ and I was like, a plie? Apparently she was actually saying play, obviously... maybe she was just being funny.
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