my diary

• 2010-10-20

  up, up and away.. read my new thoughts at http://feathersandloveletters.tumblr.com/ if you’d like.

• 2010-10-02

  surveys are so myspace circa 04

  For your last kiss, were your eyes closed and did you have to be on your tip toes?
  
  my eyes were closed but no tip toes.
  
  
  How often do you honestly say “I wanna die”?
  
  never to be honest. something’s better than nothing.
  
  
  Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to?
  
  i don’t think so, no
  
  
  Are you nervous about anything?
  
  yes, it’s deliciously mischevious. 
  
  
  Do you drink bottled water?
  
  what a princess
  
  
  What do you usually do when the clock turns 11:11?
  
  nothing, but i notice it alot. i like symmetry see. 
  
  
  Is there someone you don’t ever want to be out of your life?
  
  i’d like to think i live my life under the premise that everything’s temporary and that it’s important for everything to come and to leave your life, and for you to be happy and satisfied at the end of the day cosied up in bed alone. so no, i don’t think so..
  
  
  How often do you drink energy drinks?
  
  coffee is my energy drink 
  
  
  Ever ditched out on plans to do something better with someone else? 
  
  sounds like me, i’m flighty like that. 
  
  
  How many people know your deepest, darkest secret? 
  
  i don’t have any, i often set my secrets free.
  
  
  You’re trapped in a room for 3 days with the person you fell the hardest for? 
  
  not anymore 
  
  
  Did you get a full 8 hours of sleep last night? 
  
  no, i was up late enjoying a rush. 
  
  
  Do you have any terrifying fears? 
  
  that’s not really my thing.
  
  
  Chicken or steak? 
  
  neither babe go veg.
  
  
  Are you thinking of someone right now? 
  
  as i write this? yeah
  
  
  If you look straight ahead past your computer screen, what do see?
  
  the harbour, lit up like a galaxy
  
  
  The person you like texts you at 4am saying “come outside” what do you do? 
  
  that’s my thing.
  
  
  How do you take your coffee?
  
  skim latte, the milk in the uk was so creamy and rich i’ve gone off full cream.
  
  
  Is heartbreak really as bad as it sounds?
  
  heartbreak is intense, can’t ask for more than that in life.
  
  
  Are you wearing pants?
  
  no sir.

• 2010-10-01

  anonymous

  this week i left someone who i felt was keeping me in a cage. some nice smell is wafting through my walls, warm cooking, cosy air, balmy night. actually it’s uncharacteristically cold. but my chest feels warm. i can’t help it, i’m a bird. i like flying alone, landing sporadically for kisses and such..

• 2010-09-23

  anonymous

  dear tumblr.
  my hands look elderly.
  i am dissatisfied with the amount of adrenalin in my life.
  my mother hung my underwear on my door handle and they got stuck underneath the door as i opened it and now my door is jammed.
  without my contacts i can’t see the lights outside my window clearly.
  i’m not hungry or full or sick or healthy or elated or distraught,

  i am neutral, and it’s disgusting me.

• 2010-09-15

  anonymous

  as gingerbeard and i were approaching dawn in our heavy little slumbers this morning, i woke suddenly. you know, the wake you see in the cinema, the instant wake; no weak and weary eyes, no grace period for focussing. your eyes just snap open, with all the instantaneousness of a clap. i saw him.

  and we had slept, unbeknown, not two inches away from each other’s face, for some far-off, distant space of time. really, a blatant disregard for personal space, a total unawareness of potential discomfort if one was to twirl in a sleepy state and end up compressing the other’s face. but my body felt he was there, my auto-pilot let me lay in that way. a sort of innate comfort must seep from our equally straggy, dirty hair and our equally creamy skin.

  and there was no moment of drinking in rationale, see, no moment to let the information pour into my ears, nostrils, the blacks of my eyes. oh, just of who i was, where i was, why i was there… there was just gingerbeard, like a photograph held up to my eyes. a perfect portrait shot. i promptly lowered my eyes, and dreamt. 

• 2010-06-09

  itchy

  after such a prolonged period of silence, i do feel itchy to spit out some words, fragments, stretch the boundaries of my person to include this space. i am small, tiny, with big ears and a big mouth, but not really, you know? i love to imagine the glamorous women in their ripped clothing and studded heels and juicy lips dramatically conquering their lives. jesus christ i hope it feels the way i’d like it to. i’ve been chasing feelings for years, the crisp, fresh, foreign feeling of new clothing, of devestatingly gorgeous males, of giggles and spirits with cosy friends, but don’t promise anyone anything, because it isn’t like everyone says. you won’t wake up one day and think, yeah i WILL give everything away to love. do you know what’s better than love? not being in love. being alone in the world and starfish-laying in your bed and eating chocolate for dinner and not brushing your teeth. and when you feel like it, putting on your sluttiest of panties and going to some dirty house party and staring unashamedly at the most gorgeous thing in the room and ending up on the quiet streets in the dawn with whomever is as inspired as you. you know? do you understand? do you? we fucking die alone, and good, because someone else would never get it anyway.

• →

  today, it rains

  o, window of mine, of thine.

  you do sit and taunt

  my poor meek and humble fingers,

  toes,

  legs,

  nose,

  why do you promise such different days?

  or is it you, mind, who does such implorable things?

  why, nay, how, must i conquer thee?

  for the things that most frighten us,

  will surely destroy us in the end.

  unless, pray, a soul stretches and grips

  to destroy the enemy of all lonely young girls;

  the day disapointing.

• 2010-04-07

  things that are great about right now

  1. living across the road from a convienance store. delivering what it promised.

  2. living in islington on an okay rent. quaint street, three blocks from the main street, near a tube station.

  3. working two blocks away and making legit really good money despite my wage being 5.80 an hour. 20 worth of tips usually come home with me after every shift.

  4. working at a place where i like everyone and most of the regulars.

  5. my part time job, which is full of students and poor old men and amazing thai food 

  6. working arsenal fc games and listening to ‘the camera man is A FUCKING CUNT’ or ‘ref ya COCKSUCKER’

  7. the weather, juuust starting to warm up ie cardigans and tights

  8. the trees that are in bloom outside my window in shades of dusty pink

  9. waking up to gingerbeard mutttering ‘is it time for little cats to wake up now?’, snaking his arms around me

  10. trips all around london, getting waffles, going to the arcade, eating sushi train, dressing exuberantly, walking through the mud on purpose, running for the train, shopping til we ache, walking tucked under gingerbeard’s nook

• 2010-04-06

  feeling kinda lonely

  missing having friends

• 2010-04-01

  

• 2010-03-08

  my night floats on, my life floats on

  slowly, quietly, trickling thoughts, smoggy iced nights, hazy days, blinking world, muted television, muted voices, pressing silence, playing a blank tape full blast, a tap funnels a drip of water, misty windows, cold silent bedframes and a note drifts through the air from a wandering wind,

  a child spins down the footpath, the road curves, deforms, an elephant’s trunk rears and his eyes dart back and forth, his body melts away like hot butter, his sunshine smothers the whole street, becomes a washing surf, pouring itself quietly into the cracks of the streets and the cracks of our faces, the trees as spindily as acrylic nails on an aged hand caress the air like an unseen lover, they meditate to the movements of electricity through the air, through the elephants eye, through a forceful sea, through the little girls movements as she opens her eyes and closes her mind and walks on.

• 2010-02-11

  anonymous

  this house is unsteady. my room slants downwards - i know this because the three identical cupboards that lay on one side of the room don’t all reach from floor to ceiling comfortably. the door in the lounge room shuts of it’s own accord. the floor travels lower as you walk from one side to fro. the streets too, are rickety, unpromising, commitaphobes.

  ‘normalacy’ is airily slanting another way now too. the inertia of this is reminds me like a jolt in the stomach that my blood and bone bag is all i should travel with. i shouldn’t’ve checked in comfortable expectation and gluttonous assumption, i’m shedding them like skin now.

  the sun is outside squealing brightness like a wee little piglet, and i wonder if the cracks on the ceiling will ever give in to this alice in wonderland and fall happily and heavily and peer pressure my heartbeats into ceaseness.

• 2010-01-27

  australia day

  i woke too late to smother like butter in the sunshine, darkness is now only a whisper away at the peak of the planet. i’m a rotation too late anyway, beer has long been drunk and perhaps already thrown up on a balcony or beach somewhere, and lovers lay together in a drunken paralysed state united in the same bodily desire for their rest. gingerbeard and i are on our bed, he laying and i sitting. he’s seducing the strings of his newly purchased guitar, so in our bed with us sits bob dylan, john mayer, sometimes a long dead blues artist. but it’s not too crowded.

• 2010-01-23

  fucking

  being naked. porn, tits, ass. what’s the time? 1960?

  the 2 years that just ran past pickpocketed me of youthly haziness. laying naked next to some skinbag of bones with a slippery grin blossumed an exhilarating, blood-squealing insolence. hallways are coming into focus, let’s fuck. ladies pout and whimper, glazing their eyes and curving their frame. sucking power from the very particles that mould your naked straddling blood bag.

  so fine a line between power and shame,

  tieing your soul to the pole for the night, pouring sex into a hole that yearns for else. breathing that goes from exertion to inner ache, the road you tumble down in the morning, clothed but stripped. soul whispers past you, around you, through your dark eyes and the cracks of your cold old dry feet into your bloodstream, settling somewhere between elbow and wrist (left side). early dawn, soft streets, yawning roads, the trees roll over in their beds. thoughts are droopy, lopsided. the clack of your heels are synchonised with your heart-thuds.

  a cat darts under a car

  you stitch yourself back up

• 2010-01-18

  anonymous

  a moment ago i thought about smothering my boyfriend. one virginal, swirling, thick and foggy moment where murdering him lead me down the hall to the door glimmering and swimming and swaying and glowing. relief. 

  he lies by me as i cough up my dry words, lying deep in an ocean of the rum which muffles the sound of my fingers pitter-pattering like small children’s soles. he lies still and geometrical, one hand placed on purpose over a selection of face. his beard erupts like sprouting sprigs all over, like a stealthy vine strategically taking his face by force. the tender, ripened eyelashes lay unassuming, like a snowflake on the sleeve. his eyebrows command, great thick snakes of hair almost sensually dominating the lightly sunshine of his body bag of skin. a soft glimse of eternity rests in the sag of his upper lip’s middle, sensual even, like the shape of a nipple as it emancipates itself from the roundness of a breast. his chest and arm and shoulder and neck are worthy of a renaissance sculpture. his breathing is my metronome, in a slight way out of time but constant,

  1, 2.

  1, 2

  1,2

  inhale,
  exhale,

  of course one would not exist without the other.
  
  you whisper and twitch,
  i hope you dream.