duck and pancakes

2009-09-05T02:26:00.001+01:00

love in strange places

2009-06-25T01:35:00.004+01:00

i had an idea for a photo project: drawing little <3s
in unexpected places and then taking photos of them

but then i thought about social projects and liked
the idea of drawing <3s but also nice/inspirational
messages alongside them to brighten people's day

before i finally came to the conclusion that it
should be a social movement called
love in strange places.
so everybody, step away from the computer
and go do this. let a stranger know it's going to
be alright. draw your heart and message.
send it to me.

let's fill the world
with hearts.

road to joy

2009-06-14T18:21:00.003+01:00

It took a little persuading, but I convinced Steven and David to visit a museum with me. They had fun too, but I think the box of children's dress-up clothes we found played a large part in that.

I am not writing. I have forgotten how to write. My life largely consists of waiting to move to Manchester and doing things like spending many hours on trains, helping a now-homeless David move into our student flat, going to pool parties and being ultimately rejected by the boy I thought I would end up marrying. Fun and games.

pizza slice and chips

2009-06-06T05:04:00.004+01:00

how i've missed coming home in the tomorrow -
after dancing alongside other souls like I was made of elastic.
the streets were empty and they glistened with undisturbed rain,
as dawnbreak came at five AM, silently fantastic

2009-06-02T11:55:00.000+01:00

I just won a load of sex toys on a radio show.

face your fear

2009-05-27T15:34:00.002+01:00

I have a copy of Richard Yates' "The Easter Parade". I am so excited in regards to reading it that I am not reading it. Read, goddamnit.

Thing are happening at a pace which is half glacial, half extreme. Is that even possible? We have life-related plans but no solid things. We have one month to find an apartment in Manchester. Then, we have at least six months of solid, hardcore working to afford to live there. We is "my future housemates and I". I am not used to hardcore work. I did a few twelve hour shifts in a bar and it hurt. The real world is mainly terrifying. I'm worried I will run out of money or not find a job and have to crawl back home to my parents. Literally crawl. Because I will not be able to afford the train fare home. On top of this I am probably doing a one day a week Masters in Creative Writing. And not adopting a dog called Byron. I don't know. Everything is a bit undecided at the moment.

I think I will literally crawl back into bed now.

2009-05-24T01:12:00.001+01:00

There's nothing. There just isn't anything.

missing a timecock

2009-05-20T01:15:00.003+01:00

Family Guy and "Dirty Cider" drinking games with
Denim and friends at 3AM. Shoestring Festival plans
falling into place. KPA Sandwiches with Ollie and her
Hull-Friend Hannah. Shopping for banner-making
materials. Creative Writing meetings. Mochas. Pizza
and cider. Doctor Who themed porn with amused
friends. Goldfish funeral plans. Rainbow knickers.

I am feeling optimistic and happy in regards to life.

awful poetry

2009-05-18T21:06:00.005+01:00

Sale

first i will kiss you as if it's going out of fashion
like there's a discount at my favourite store and I am
launching myself down the aisles with great passion
then i am going to scoop you into my arms like
discarded nineties garments and hold you tightly
because all the other offers mean nothing to me.
This poem is one giant cliche the words are nothing
if not painstakingly arranged but feel free to
read my label and believe that I am not
interested in an exchange, that I am
completely dedicated to this cause,
of a love ......... so intense
it is not avaliale in stores.

* * * * *

I'm going through a phase of writing shit poetry
and posting it on the internets where anyone can
see it, then feeling really uncomfortable and
embarrassed. It's odd. I feel masochistic.

2009-05-14T03:50:00.003+01:00

i am so ridiclpously drunk. but i thought i woud updaote this for the lols. hahh.

hello intetnts. i love uow wll.

google alerts

2009-05-13T21:22:00.001+01:00

hello james sheard

keele writing is awesome

give me a copy of scattering eva

we were sick

2009-05-13T15:11:00.000+01:00

I am on the bus.

I need to cut my fringe. I am approximately 40% hair and look ridiculous.

I had a dream that my blog was incredibly famous and popular. I applied for a job at a bar and everyone thought I was amazing and waited on my every update. I didn't feel pressured.

I realised as I left the house that I am wearing the exact same combination of clothes now that I would wear if I was a boy. I am feeling very unisex right now.

full circle

2009-05-12T00:09:00.010+01:00

I wrote this around February-time in 2008. My relationship with Mark was deteriorating and it's really a mix of nostalgia for life in my first year at university and the fun times of the second. Despite the bleak outlook of rotten food and unruly gardens, there was a feeling amongst myself and my housemates which isn't there now. Excitement perhaps, for both doing things and devoting a day to not doing anything. Acting rather than talking ourselves out of things.

Someday We’ll Graduate

And often I think of how my life
Is made up of photographs
spacespaceand battered postcards,
spacespacedisappearing house keys
spacespaceand loose change as I take
spacespaceroutine bus journeys, drink
spacespacecups of tea with stained brown rings,
spacespaceorder early morning pizzas
spacespacein rooms which spin
spacespacefrom too much gin.
spacespaceMouldy bread and broken eggs and
spacespacemarijuana on the window sill with friends,
spacespacethe poetry on the fridge documenting the obscene
spacespaceoutside a garden that is mostly weeds.
spacespaceThe kitchen ceiling leaks through the fog
spacespaceof a Tuesday hangover
spacespaceand Saturday afternoon lethargy.
spacespaceGetting lost in the library and losing yourself
spacespacein a club, or a book. Highlighting
Lazy Sundays, hours of chess,
Bacon sandwiches and lying in bed.

This evening, following a nap brought on by the aftermath of a night spent in a boy's bed, I wrote a follow up. It's less nostalgic. I feel pretty sad about the way this year is ending. Life feels more downbeat nowadays, and I really miss that feeling. I think it will get better and maybe I just woke up extra grumpy today, but this is my poetically lethargic sigh in the face of final year life.

At Last We Graduate

And sometimes I wonder if this is
All there is; the endless essay fear
spacespaceand floods of tears,
spacespacediscarded Keele Cards
spacespacewhich leave me stranded
spacespacein a world of failed revision
spacespaceand successful KPA sandwiches.
spacespaceFruitless Facebook chats behind
spacespaceclosed locked doors, bored,
spacespaceon clothes-covered floors.
spacespaceCigarettes and short-lived pets and
spacespacespacecakes in the pub with friends,
spacespacea poo chart hanging in the loo
spacespaceand emotional late reunions at two.
spacespaceThe stale, sad sight
spacespaceof a Saturday hangover
spacespaceand Sunday library trips,
spacespaceplotting painstaked prose and
spacespacequips in evening workshops. Remembering
Enthusiasm for waking late and wasting time,
Companionship, and your body next to mine.

i can't bring myself to look

2009-05-11T17:16:00.001+01:00

my goldfish died
and I am very sad.

"red u rock my world"

2009-05-09T21:57:00.002+01:00

sex on the beach cocktails cookies music visitors
short queues green beaver shots vks crazy dancing
flailing cheesy pop sweet child o' mine sharpies
t shirt signing drunken handwriting menthol
cigarettes reunions being recognised by strangers
energetic boys slow dancing to britney spears
jumping up and down running drunkenly
through the library congratulations dark
woodland paths chaperones with odd names
kings of leon campfires green lights mistaken
identity hiding amongst the trees kisses borrowed
clothes walks home double mattresses unwatched
movies cuddling sleep early morning wakeups
keele so bright and sunny at ten thirty in the morning.

Good night, then.

lip smacking

2009-05-08T19:00:00.005+01:00

I was clearing out old memory cards and found a few photos
of Mark looking beautiful.

I am trapped in a flat with two pairs of happy, pre and
post sexing couples who are giggling and kissing noisily.

Part of me wants to curl up in bed and the other part wants
to die a lot.

It's time to go out and party.

i have centre-apathy

2009-05-06T15:33:00.006+01:00

I spent this morning in an exam hall, yawning and
not writing very much. I have now officially completed
my undergraduate degree.

I spent this afternoon staring at my hair wondering
why it never matches the colour shown on the hair dye box.

I have a mask and a toy gun.

I waste a lot of money.

Ryan Manning published me on cookiebomb and
Adam Coates mentioned my blog on his blog.
I feel moderately-to-above-averagely special about this.

one more day

2009-05-05T19:04:00.005+01:00

I will Google Truman Capote when I get home

A man my age wearing thick black glasses
is sitting opposite me on the bus reading In Cold Blood.
His knee is moving in time with the buzz coming
from his headphones and I stare at his face for six seconds.
He looks at me. I look at him.
We look at each other.
I think: coffeekissingsexlovemarriagebabiesdeath.
I stare at my feet until it is time
to get off the bus.

Do something, you idiot

I will spontaneously lunge across this table
to push my lips against yours
and probably pull a muscle.

all your sins

2009-05-04T22:27:00.001+01:00

I am so ridiculously in love.

I am so ridiculous.

I am so

so, so close
to giving up on this.

the women are isolated

2009-05-03T22:37:00.004+01:00

I failed my "not buying any food" challenge on Day 2 today
when myself and a group of friends went to an all you can eat
restaurant for dinner. Whoops.

It is growing increasingly more difficult for me not to buy this book.
Somebody buy me this book.

The last sentence I wrote was;
"It is a struggle of power between the sexes, that verges almost on actual war,
with Steve using military terms in his attempt to penetrate Carly anally"
I think my essay is going well. Probably.

ich habe hunger

2009-05-02T22:37:00.002+01:00

I am not going to buy any food for the forseeable future.

I start at f and end at d

2009-05-01T18:26:00.003+01:00

This is my smug, "I will never have to read this stupid
book ever again" face. One History exam down.

I'm submitting short things to internet places and editing
work for the Keele Writing Magazine. Ho hum.

From Corrections:

I read. I absorb everything from the bar to the breakfast kebabs.
My eyes trace the burgundy lips of Shelly and the curve of Kelly’s arse.
I picture him in his new leather jacket, the description of which appears
above a brief thanks! for the money I sent him to cover his rent. I read
everything and find it distasteful. His graduation photo hangs in my
hallway; he could have been a lawyer, a historian, even a writer. I have
been biting my tongue and my mouth fills with the tang of copper coins.
Distasteful. I take out a chunky white marker from the desk drawer and
hold it over his filthy words. Poised.

it was consensual, officer

2009-05-01T02:45:00.004+01:00

I barricaded Steven into his bedroom so he could write
his essay without distractions. (There's a little paper
catflap at the bottom of the tape prison so he can get
out to use the toilet.) Whenever I walk past his room I
can hear frantic typing.

I need to clear all the rubbish off my bedroom floor.
I need to cram for my exam which is in 6½ hours.
I need to win back M's trust so we can be happy.
I need to find a job in Manchester for two months time.
I need to sort myself and my sleeping patterns out.

I feel overwhelmed by life.

i was once a loyal lover

2009-04-29T17:40:00.005+01:00

Settle

A line that doesn't begin with "look, if we're going to do this"
is enough for me to wrap my tongue around your tonsils
and breathe you in. You stand like Superman;
invincibility makes your muscles tremble
but like the dust which hugs these neglected walls
I have merely settled. Please don't feel inferior,
for once it's dawn and we have drained ourselves,
when you ask me how many other men I've held
I will give a number much lower to make you feel superior.

it goes like this, the base the cheese, the pineapple and the circular meat

2009-04-29T03:02:00.006+01:00

Peppanpine - n. Pepperoni, Pineapple
and Jalepeno Pepper Pizza

After sitting in the KPA/Manchester listening to Stretch
make up new songs for his "Peppanpine" creation followed
by two days of "Let's get takeaway! Let's get Peppanpines!"
I think us Creative Writing types probably need a new
craze already.

Other people are peppanpining it up too, it's bemusing.

Mainly because they're clearly wrong; Jalapenos are disgusting.
I'm definitely rallying on the side of Peppanpine Lite.

awash

2009-04-27T22:41:00.001+01:00

I was in the pub with a group of Creative Writing friends
a few hours ago and I suddenly had an epiphany.

Everything is going to be ok.

So, you know, if you're really this right now and feeling
low, don't worry. It's going to be alright.
Really.

sickeningly lovely films

2009-04-26T20:40:00.005+01:00

I should not be allowed near clothes.

Things That Scare Me Vol. 2:

1) Anything to do with Zombies that isn't Shaun of the Dead.

2) Ollie's bizarre luck, where other people get injured instead of her,
coming true and me dying in an unexpected and
possibly ironic way in Manchester.

3) Pigeons and Seagulls. I don't trust them not to poo on my head.

4) The Gentlemen from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

5) Dying before I ever have a poem written about me.

i can't sleep. this seems like the best therapy.

2009-04-26T03:43:00.007+01:00

the date

I don’t want sympathy. I want a deadpan facial response. I want answers that can be conveyed in three syllables or less. I don’t know. I like you. I want to fumble and drop things adorably at your feet. I want the poems of Sylvia Plath to narrowly miss your toes. Giggle. I want us to not-quite make eye contact when we talk to each other. We will struggle and there will be gaps in the conversation. Jokes about something cute, like cats. I won’t ask you about food and music. What is important to you? I want you to take my number and put it into your pocket next to your coins and your keys. I will feel a sense of accomplishment and celebrate by going home and doing nothing. You will have my number but you won’t call it and I will be forced to spend long hours on Facebook typing your first name and searching through the local network. I hope you’re not from out of town. Eventually I will find you and send you a message and eventually after a considerable period you will reply and say you lost my number in your pocket with your coins and your keys. I will say ‘ok’. You will say ‘would you like to meet for coffee or something?’ I will say yes and then I will probably picture you without your clothes on but I won’t tell you that. I want you to think that I am not a weirdo so you will meet me for coffee so I can picture you without your clothes on. I meet you in a coffee shop. I buy the drinks myself but am thankful for your half-hearted protests. We sit down at a table with a menu and two chairs. My palms are damp. I am probably not a weirdo. I pick up the menu but don’t read it. I know that I need to say something witty and charming in approximately ten seconds time or you will finish your drink in approximately ten minutes time and make a hurried excuse to leave. Instead I sit there smiling at you because all I can think of to do is look at you just-below-the-eye and say, “from the moment I saw you I have been in love with you.” I smile. You smile. We are sitting at a table smiling at each other not saying anything. Say something. We don’t say anything. I want you to hold my hand and say ‘it’s ok. I know.’ I want to exhale dramatically and say ‘phew. I’m glad that’s out of the way.’ I don’t want to see your eyes snake under your shirt sleeve searching for your watch. I don’t want to know that you’d rather be somewhere else. I sip my coffee. I smile.

"the bus conductor's pants on my shoulder"

2009-04-26T01:41:00.005+01:00

Steven and Roxanne have been reading out passages
from Twilight and Notes On A Scandal and replacing
key words with "pants" for over an hour. And it
definitely hasn't gotten old yet.

"I could tell from the smell that I was the first person
to enter Alice and Jasper's pants in a while"

"a fundamental lack of drive"

2009-04-25T17:11:00.003+01:00

Ollie and I are sitting in Starbucks.
I am drinking a mocha frappuchino and
writing my essay on my notepad laptop
whilst making insightful comments on
feminism.

Welcome to Yuppie-ville, population: me.

"a deluded feeling of invulnerability"

2009-04-24T18:47:00.004+01:00

i want to fuck you because you are lonely.
i am not. i am popular
and surrounded by boys who want me
but i want to fuck you because you have nobody.
maybe you would fall in love with me or
maybe you would forget it almost instantly.
it doesn't matter.
i want to fuck you to make it just a little bit better.

Someone is playing the guitar and singing
in the room above mine. I wish I could play the guitar.
If I could play the guitar I would go upstairs with one
and walk into their flat and start playing and everyone
would be amazed that someone had just come into their
flat and started playing the guitar. We'd spend all day
"jamming" and writing songs and it would be wonderful.

I am staring at my notes I made for my exam
on Tuesday and contemplating not turning up for it.

I am bored. So very bored.

i have an idea for an art project

2009-04-24T02:37:00.005+01:00

WANTED:

8 to 12 men
of any shape, age or colour
willing to let me draw on their
nether regions with a black sharpie
and take a polaroid of it
in the name of art
(d.i.y admissions also accepted)

I will then collate the polaroids and arrange them on
a canvass. I will name this project "Elephant" and I will
think of a deeply profound reason for doing it.

men. email me.

(this is definitely a good idea.)

penises are kinda ugly really

2009-04-23T21:32:00.005+01:00

This is what I look like right now. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Work was supposed to happen today but I spent a large amount of time
clicking refresh on various websites and scanning books for exam-related
quotes and failing. Steven, Helen and I had an interesting long conversation
about sex, fantasies and penises. Now I am less inspired to work and more
inspired to have sex.

I wish there was some sort of book you could write someone's name
down in and they appear, you have sex with them and once you
erase their name they go away and forget all about it. I think the
closest to this is dating sites and I don't want to get axe murdered.
I don't know. I'm curious about people and how their bodies work.
But I don't need to be caught up in anymore deep emotional
attachments unless I particularly want to be.

I was interviewed by Ryan Manning.
If my writing career flounders and fails to take off, at least
I can console myself with appearing on the same list as
some authors I admire. Thank you Ryan.

i am feeling mainly uninspired

2009-04-23T14:20:00.001+01:00

i don't want to write a poem.
every time i write a poem i feel like i give part of myself away.
i wrap my secrets in rhyming couplets
and send them to strangers.
when i write poetry i discard myself,
so i don't think i will write a poem today.

22 April 2009 00:44

2009-04-22T00:46:00.001+01:00

I don't think I have been as miserable
as I feel right this second

today i feel appreciated

2009-04-21T18:17:00.000+01:00

Things I Am Scared Of:

1) Wooden Spoons and Lollysticks

2) Inviting someone to a social gathering and
they flip out, hurt someone or shout abuse.

3) Bumblebees flying into my mouth whilst
I'm laughing.

4) Standing in a shop and someone I know
sneaking up behind me and yelling "boo!"

5) Being in a canoe and the canoe tipping
over and trapping me underwater.

Everytime I think Simon is going to beat my scores
on Crash Bandicoot Racing, he does something silly like
bump into a wall or drop the controller. It is highly
amusing. Today I have been mainly outside playing catch
and lounging. I emailed Ryan Manning a lot and
watched Steven make a cake.

lazing on a sunny afternoon

2009-04-21T11:08:00.000+01:00

I am grumpy. I went to bed really late and Steven woke me
up at half ten by shrieking "What!" and slamming doors. Bah.
What do you do in these situations, say "Hey. You woke me up.
Feel guilty for a bit then don't do it again." or do you ignore it?
Apathetic towards politeness, which is unfortunate as:

Simon is arriving in an hour. He's here to celebrate Helen's birthday
and come to dinner with us, but the meal is at eight so I have
many hours of playing host. It's daunting. I have a lot of work
to do. I'm leaving at ten tomorrow to go to Manchester so I won't be
able to spend time with him then, so I should make the effort.
(Sorry Simon, if you read this. I like hanging out with you.)

I am going to eat a Yorkie and put on my grey leggings.

and he is beautiful, but he don't mean a thing to me

2009-04-20T22:11:00.000+01:00

Things I am not sure about:

1) The affectionate term “hun”. It can’t stand for “honey”, surely.
What could it mean? Hunky? Hungry? Hunchback? I’m not sure I
like being referred to in this way.

2) Why I don’t trust people to mention me in conversation and
not say something like “This girl means well but god, she’s rude/
annoying/a complete freak”. I think from now on you should all
refer to me as The Charming Beautiful One to ease my
growing paranoia.

3) How to make porridge. The Ready-Brek Box sits on top
of the oven, untouched since December.

4) How I’m supposed to do a Masters in Creative Writing next
year when I have forgotten how to write.
“It was only when you got closer that you realised he was a person.
In the distance he looked like a tree, one of those small firs that
appeared around Christmas time in the old world to mark the
coming of advent.”
This is not good writing.

5) Why my fish is still alive.

6) How I’m supposed to turn into a real person with a job and
a house and a network of interesting and intelligent acquaintances
when I’m so bloody confused about everything all the time.

i don't know why i keep checking my phone

2009-04-20T11:32:00.000+01:00

All things considered, we still have terrible communication.

i once made an orgy of vulpix

2009-04-20T01:58:00.000+01:00

I could play this game for hours. Hours.

Before I attempted to play it for hours tonight,
David, Helen, Paul and I watched Doctor Who.
I guess it takes a bad breakup to realise it, but
The Doctor isn't a hero at all. He's a jackass.
He abandonned Sarah-Jane without letting her
know the score, he invited Nurse Redfern to be
his companion after Martha supported him and
kept him safe for months... He may not sex up
his companions, but he seems to think an awful
lot with his penis. I am unimpressed with The
Doctor right now.

"by grinding on the crotch of some cheese-dicked punter"

2009-04-19T20:27:00.000+01:00

Things I Realised Today:

1) I really like editing and writing other people's dating profiles.
2) Homemade Garlic Mushrooms are really tasty.
3) If my author friend isn't tastlessly misogynistic, he's doing a very
good job of pretending to be.

Conclusion:

I should be a personal councellor who cooks at home a lot, and that
I need to stop spending so much time searching Friction for good but
personality-deforming quotes and ideas to use in my essay.

i think that maybe i could ruin everything

2009-04-18T19:45:00.000+01:00

This somes up how I am feeling right now quite well.

Stupid, Happy and Annoyed.
Can one be "happy and annoyed"?
I think I am.

we'll laugh about this in years to come

2009-04-17T00:58:00.000+01:00

“You said I killed you - haunt me, then!
The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe.
I know that ghosts have wandered on earth.
Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad!
only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”
(Emily Bronte)

Today I let myself believe that:
I am not some nineteenth century maiden.
I am not not defined by that relationship.
I am my own person.
I am going to get over it.

this is not just M&S food...

2009-03-22T22:36:00.000Z

I'm glad Feminism came along and made it ok for women not to be glorified housemaids. If it wasn't for the Suffragettes/gists I'd be screwed, because I am a terrible cook. I made cupcakes earlier and once I'd peeled the paper cases off, they tasted rather like thick sponge. Badly iced thick sponge. Gary Rhodes, marry me now and take me away from this cooking fail.

I left a note for my housemates on the offchance one of them needed food poisoning as an excuse to apply for an Extenuiating Circumstances form. Bizarrely, Roxanne said they were nice but, as she herself said, "I like chewy cakes". Strange.