January 2011
1 post
I don't need you
it took courage
but there, I said it.
May 2010
5 posts
tomorrow i plan on
trying my hand at making guacamole.
pottering across town to visit my granny.
lying in the garden in a t shirt and knickers with the papers spread around me.
buying a spiderplant. from somewhere.
remembering (unlike today) to apply suncream.
moisturise my shoulders to counteract resulting sunburn.
put my finger on the reason behind my current mild state of distraction and disatisfation.
it's a pain
that feeling of frustration and wasted opportunity when your witty anecdote, recollected on the spur of the moment and before an audience is missing one crucial detail.
girls with boys names
charlie
dylan
tommy
finn
george
frankie
And I conclude that giving your daughter one of these names will enable them to become that cool breed of girl. abilities include being able to wear a high pony tail without looking preppy, wearing minimal make up while looking completely and subtley pretty and an in-built comprehensive knowledge of 1990s hiphop.
no
if I hear the word ‘win’ used to describe a sense of fortunate achievement one more time..
April 2010
1 post
.
men on bikes
who buck occaisionally and suddenly for the pure hell of it
March 2010
9 posts
the simple things
a house filled with lull after family entertainment
a deep bath
a neat slab of chocolate to be savoured
evenly, square by square
a hot water bottle waiting in bed
a faithful novel, it’s spine ready to stretch
dreamland
sometimes I wonder if the strangers in our dreams exist in real life.
those anonymous faces, their appearance improvised so quickly and woven into our sleepy thoughts by our subconscious.
maybe if you traced the miles of power pylons, hopped across the oceans using oil rigs as stepping stones, you’d find your stranger.
swaddled in duvet too.
the anonymous face printed onto their...
same every night
warm laundry tucked under my elbow nook
nearing two in the morning
flicking the lights off one by one
and scurrying each dark filled room
the black following me up the stairs
a bowl filled with clumps of granola
and too much milk that always dribbles a trail down my chin
greedy, hasty mouthfuls as laden, I climb the stairs
this is my bedtime routine
'it's very practical'
when will salesmen learn that selling a young woman something on the basis that it has a ‘handy belt loop’ is never a goer?
i'm not somebody
with terribly sentimental feelings toward bitter revenge
but on occasion it’s nice to politely give you a taste of your own medicine.
deathwish
it’s macabre, but my thoughts when typing in the bbc.com/news URL is usually “I wonder if anyone important has died?”
February 2010
3 posts
dad
ah Father. we’re a dysfunctional pair are we not?
we last hung out a couple of days before new years.
and only now did we finally get round to having another nice evening out just the two of us.
we drank lots of cider (I on halves, you on full pints) we discussed romany gypsies and family deaths and I cried a little bit. just subtle trails of tears. but I know you noticed. and you delved...
that little buzz
don’t most people spend great deals of their lives hearing their text tones and wishing more than anything that the messages would be from that certain person? a few minutes after midnight and a message of acknowledgment? mostly it’ll be a message, sent from a valued friend or relative. something trivial that in an different scenario could mean the world. but the absence of their words...
I am a fan of
those men with a comically creepy countenance. their eyebrows hoisted like drawn blinds, eyes wide and a short row of teeth elbowing their way out of a half moon mouth. they are drifting and absent minded or they are fully conscious and curious and they are always the kind that you encounter when you are alone, their faces leave you tittering to yourself.
January 2010
5 posts
fears
one of my greatest fears is a reliance on instant gratification.
another fear is becoming and exposing myself as a hypocrite.
I guess because I have a tumblr account these fears are sadly reality?
“In the afterlife you relive all your experiences, but this time with the events...”
– an extract from ‘Sum’ by David Eagleman. A book composed of 40 short theories regarding the afterlife. I think I’m a little late hearing about this one, but what a perfect and strangely calming concept it is.
can't wait
what do we think about that breed of person that reads a book as they walk?
MSG
dear shanghai takeaway.
you can pump the smell of five spice down my street all you like.
but I am no fool, I still won’t trust one of your spring rolls as far as I can throw one.
December 2009
4 posts
deep thinking new years cab ride
heartwrenching and surreal
my ears are full of fuzz
hairdryers and earth before life
but your words are at the forefront
sincerity difficult to unpuzzle
‘call me in the morning.’
‘i miss you.’
they’re words that come just as I think I’ve pushed you to the side
and they wrap themselves like onion skins around my eyeballs
you’re not a bad person,...
“The night train rolled purposefully northward toward it’s destination....”
– today I bought a short novella for ‘the cool cousin who joins us for christmas every five years’. note to self, I must also buy myself a copy of ‘A Happy Man’ by Hansjorg Schertenleib
the unspoken rule for men
if you wear raybans inside and you’re under the age of thirty, you will receive a roll of the eyes. you’re a cocky cliche walking around, neck raised, unlit cigarette balanced between lips. swaggering, waiting for rows of eyes. short curly locks whisper the name of every new york musician they are inspired by.
if you’re over thirty wearing raybans, you are effortless,...
“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing...”
– Sylvia Plath just cured my writers block. Et vous?
November 2009
5 posts
tonight
there are lots of things I’d like to do tonight
going back three hours so that I could curb the procrastination and give myself time to do them would be top of the list.
otherwise..
+watch the hours
+have a bath
+listen to some angsty music
+fill my journal with some more entries, fill the pages with loopy handwriting
+ring those two friends I promised I’d call
+maybe...
cold custard
cold custard poses a confusing dilemma to my brain and tastebuds.
that cool ease with which it is swallowed and the vanilla flavour makes me want to jump for joy.
the occaisonal lumps and formed lactic skin hidden through, school dinner associations (along with knowledge of society’s nosewrinkling repulsion) has me suppressing gags.
people and cats
people return home from their nights out with new smells stuck to their skin.
personal scent is replaced with second hand tobacco smoke, multiplex popcorn, spilled alcohol.
cats return home from their nights out smelling of woodsmoke, kippers and an old lady’s lap.
boy in a space helmet
I dreamt I fell in love with a boy in a space helmet
the industrial fishbowl around his head
both a window of mortality
and a kissing barrier
those first stages of romance
the smiles and the pecks and possibilities
stunted by a wedge of glass
holding hands
or a touch of a palm in the small of my back
was contact that would not suffice
and so in an ultimate act of dedication
mirroring...
little bruise
hello, mysterious little bruise
you’re a little full of it because you know and I don’t
you hide all day beneath my skirt
and reveal yourself unannounced
interrupting my subconscious state of undress
hello, mysterious little bruise
just above my left knee
sticking out like the runt of a litter
mottled and flawed yet endearing
anomaly of the moles peppering my body
...
October 2009
9 posts
“I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am. I know that I am...”
– Buckminster Fuller’s 1970 book ‘I Seem To Be a Verb’
moon
It is with a thoughtful glance the Moon of our bedtime stories, a crescent with distinguishable facial features; shadows create a roman nose and whistling lips. It is the Jolly Moon, the witness of the romance between the dish and the spoon.
While the evening is new, transparent birthmarks of cloud pass over but rarely obscure it, the Moon’s gentle streams of light poke through. These...
some things encountered on the 75 bus
woman in navy mohair jumper with tourettes
an anonymous fart
somebody with wet, just washed hair-this is usually me
a man who has put a packet of sweets, possibly skittles into his fleece pocket and is rustling as he removes them.
plausible, unlikely
I just heard a coarse shrieking from downstairs. In theory it could have been a chicken being strangulated. More likely however, it was my Mother opening a reluctant sliding window.
compromising positions
there are only a select group of catalysts to somebody walking through the door when you really, really don’t want them to. they are as follows:
standing naked in front of your underwear drawer unable to find a suitable pair of pants.
brushing breadcrumbs off of the table and onto the floor.
mid channel flick the TV decides to freeze on the channel showing Everybody Loves Raymond.
...
fleeting name fad
there seems to be a trend of giving your baby a purposely outdated name. they are sturdy examples of names like ‘Archie’, ‘Stanley’ or ‘Frank’. I wonder which brave soul will be the first to take this suburban phenomenon to the next level and impress an outdated but just plain ugly name onto their child. I wait in anticipation for the Universities full of...