Tuesday, 17 February 2009

hello, boys

Do some work.

Monday, 16 February 2009

v day

you are very hard to read
there is a frown on my lower lip (in my mind) am I?
pensive... is the same as content. is the same as sad.

no frown then ...I practice ...
... I have been called an emotional retard...
laugh you are not
I am just bad at talking...
... I am trying


ignoring my tightening chest, head on his elbow as he reads the poem I had been reluctant to reveal

I am glad I gave you those words
(I wonder if you know there are more here for you)

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

sheep

SHD tagged me to do this on fb. I am not sure whether it is more or less narcissistic to post it here instead.

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

1. I just dug out some very rusty html skills to write that SHD link above, as Blogger's hyperlink thing appears to be unwell. I am quite pleased I got it right first time.
2. Writing is my passion. What a fucking stupid statement; probably the truest thing I've ever posted.
3. Dried apricots are THE FOOD OF THE DEVIL.
4. I don't tell anyone anything, though I pretend to. I am not particularly proud of this.
5. I worry about how I compare intellectually, not physically.
6. I am fantastically vain, however.
7. I have made every major decision in my life (degree course, University city, postgrad study, etc) at the last possible minute.
8. Conversely, I stress about everyday situations far too much.
9. I know the calorie content of pretty much everything.
10. I loathe running. I do it anyway.
11. I wish I looked nice in cream. The colour, not the foodstuff.
12. I have a disproportionate number of good, gay, male friends.
13. I have two birthmarks; one on my right thigh, one behind my left ear. The second one isn't particularly attractive.
14. The most acute pain I have experienced was breaking a rib. The memory of it, and the sound it made, makes me cringe.
15. This has taken me three days so far, and I am only at 15. I overthink.
16. In moments of hating my degree, I always wished I'd read English.
17. I have been skydiving, but I'd never bungy (sp?) jump.
18. I get Diet Coke cravings, especially when hungover.
19. My hangovers are monstrous, and last all day.
20. Seriously, I'm out of pointless rubbish to tell you. There are five more to do. Feel free.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

total non-post

Was halfway through writing a post about my favourite tramp but it got a bit too twee; woeful charity. I saw a man stop to hold a conversation with the back bumper of a car today, prompting the bout of condescension.

Am pretty happy and balanced at the moment. This has been the best start to a new year that I can remember; there are recent photographs of me where my smile has eaten my top lip. They also indicate that I badly need a haircut.

Oh dear. What disconnected, pointless paragraphs. It was that, or tell you about how indescribably hot I found watching my boyfriend do something (I have fuck all idea what but it involved looking purposeful and clever) in the lab last Friday. I've dabbled in some weird fetishes but never thought science would be one.

Monday, 2 February 2009

snow day

College is cancelled. I have a reasonable excuse not to leave the house today; we do, though, to play in the snow. The strange man next door stands beside his recycling bag full of Kronenburg cans and throws snowballs at us. One slides down my neck.

Snowfall. Remembering the late sweet daze of Friday night, I could say so much, did I dream it? All of it?

Confident I reached to you.
(I did not dream it).

On the train, I write the line from the ee cummings poem that makes me cry.

Snowfall; no sound. Bleak, content weather.

Sunday, 18 January 2009

warning: contains words

Just seen an advert for the new Will Smith movie. The trailer makes it clear that it contains Scenes of Strong Emotion. Or something. I had no idea what the film was about, but Wikipedia helped with that and my, does it sound like a depressing little jaunt.

So. When you know the movie is about the deaths of seven people and the title character's subsequent self-flagellation, do you really need the warning?

On another note of bemused complaint, what is Channel Four trying to do with this Christianity series? This week's episode, presented by Michael Portillo, doesn't really make any sense. He's meant to be talking about Rome but they can't really decide whether they want to do the ancient or the modern.

Other news: I've been carrying my notebook and writing, a lot. Just need to translate that into real posts. The space between my tits hurts because I wore an ill-fitting bra for too long yesterday. Really quite tired. Can you tell?

Thursday, 8 January 2009

working on it

Had a brief, I love London moment today. Unexpectedly, it was on the bus. Transport in the city usually makes me snarl.

Asked for trouble by sitting next to an Italian in tight white jeans. Instead, I became surrounded by more Italians, a couple of Russians; a Thai girl, someone speaking French. Telephone calls. I was almost somewhere else.

Itchy feet.