became a fan of...

i was recommended the chinese horoscope application on facebook.

on the first day in months that i came close to exceeding my recommended daily allowance i read this:

Be vigilant as far as your food is concerned so as to avoid taking on weight which would transform itself into horrible folds of fat.

i think the chinese horoscope understands my needs.

one hundred and one

the ice cream van outside is playing greensleeves and i feel like i could burst.

last night was incredible.

the gig at the independent arts centre was ridiculously cool; grace and the magic roots and free control were absolutley brilliant... the visuals that were projected onto the wall behind sally and the band were mesmerising. i really hope that place gets huuuge, it deserves it. what a lovely atmosphere. i met some cracking people!

after that i went to the garage to meet some friends so i could go to a party. one of them smashed a bottle of magners on the floor by accident so i stood around it to stop a lawsuit.

someone asked what it was (duhh) so i told them i was expecting triplets and they were about to come out.

the party was amazing... loads of people i didnt expect to see turned up and made the night. a boy was going round with a fisheye lens snapping pictures of everyone, it was really sweet.

when i ran out of rum i drunk more pepsi than my body had room for, it was great.

i wandered home around 6 or 7 while it was light and pink and blue and my eyes were hazy, but i was so happy. i cant remember the last time i felt this good.

photograph by hanscrystalanderson

today is my half birthday,

the day i went to belgium last year and experienced one of the biggest learning curves of my life

and the day my parents started going out in their second year of university.

i went to bed at 4am and got a call at 5am telling me to go outside. i thought i was dreaming and went to look. my friend sam was stood outside the house with his bike wearing sunglasses. i invited him in and we had a little talk. i read the toon tellegen letter from the squirrel to the ant and then we went to sleep.

i had a dream last night that someone cut off my limbs and i was going to die, and a man took me in his arms and kissed me. i cried and said "thank you for making me feel less undesirable." i told my friends i was cross that i couldnt think of a poem to say as my final words and we all laughed.

my housemate took me into her room today to show me a lilac clockwork bunny with chicken feet called mr. easter... this wasnt a dream.

today in work as i mopped spilt salsa and pepsi with a guy i recognised but didnt know, he said

"i know your face..."

"uh oh. go on then..."

"you're that head media girl"

"oh wow, you basically just called me the king of media!"

"well you are arent you? you gave us that talk about being a student rep, you love media!"

"yeah, media is my boyfriend."

never have i been so proud to be keen.

night night turn out the light one two three

i feel safe when i pay to get a taxi instead of walking home after a late shift,
when i bolt the door twice,
and when my friend tom gives me a great big silly hug.

but sometimes i feel really weak and stupid and wish i had someone to ask me what is the matter? and tell me things will be fine even if they wont just to give me a bit of courage, and then tuck me up in bed and turn the light out.

i was scared of the dark until i was about 18 years old.

my room was like a circus with cheap and cheerful lava lamps, disco lights and spinning UFOs illuminating it all hours... it used to drive my parents mad.

my mum and dad knew i was a bit nervous about having a dark room when i was younger so they used to leave the door wide open with the landing light on, and the last thing they used to say as they left the room was

night night turn out the light, one two three!

and when i was making a cup of tea before i realised how much i missed that.

in sleep is the only way...

i fell into a deep sleep this afternoon and while i was there, i turned round with tears in my eyes and found someone i hadnt seen for ten years standing at the door in my head.

she motioned to me, put her arm around me and walked me through an imagined city.

i asked her why she had come back for me and she said "we were never supposed to be sympathetic but i couldnt forget your big eyes"

...and i was so safe and unaware.

i knew my subconscious was just trying to offer me something i had lost in reality.

when i woke up it felt like i was drunk from my dreams and for a while i couldnt remember who and where i really was.

disorientated, i knew at the very least that i was pleased to have forgotten.

why am i so terrified of waking?

rehearsing...

RE-
HEAR
SING

wow.

I don't remember how to get out of the well.
help.

states of independence

The Independent Press day was absolutley great, but I knew it would be.

Although I have little interest in pursuing my severely limited writing skills after university, I thought it would be foolish to see this as a justification for missing such a great oppurtunity.

I went to a talk by Leicester Writers Club at 11am which was quite insightful. They spoke of their various experiences of success in publishing, which made me wish I had heard the talk before I handed an essay on the literary market in earlier this year. I met one of the writers afterwards, and was delighted to discover that we shared the same passion for keeping our family history alive.

Afterwards i did a bit of stallholding and felt very important and very out of my depth in equal measures. People kept asking important questions, to which i had to basically reply in better words, "i am not a useful or important human being, the people who can answer your questions will be back around 2pm."

At 1pm Some of our class read out their work. I was pleased to find that everyone kept to their 3 minute slots, rather than having to tolerate anyone who struggles to understand how GMT does not slow down for their own REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT reading. Saying that, Nath was perhaps a little bit over but began with a warning and an apology, neither of which were needed considering he stole the show and was definitley the best person to end with. I read one poem and said something about yoda. I didnt mean to say anything about yoda.

The readings by Crystal Clear at 3pm were all excellent too. I met a charming woman afterwards who told me she gets as nervous as I do about reading aloud, which was reassuring considering how confident she looked and the warm feedback she got from the audience. My favourite piece was the poem about the merman by Maria.

I then had a little bit of time to look around the stalls and FINALLY got my hands on not one but two copies of coffee house magazine, which I have had my eye on for a while. I would also like to take this moment to say that I wish I lived in Deborah Tyler-Bennett's wardrobe.

I met all manners of weird and wonderful people picking up pens, sweets and contact cards along the way. There were consideringly less waistcoats and bumbags than I first anticipated (I am not slating either item of course, as a child I was a keen waitcoat wearer and nothing makes sense at an all-day event like a bumbag.) and it was nice to be part of something which had such an electric atmosphere.

I was also allowed the rare chance to see chris partaking in manual labour while we helped with the relocation of over 4,000 tables... sweaty and hilarious all at once.


today won.

He asked us what our favourite work of art was, and never could I tell him it was him.

When I woke up this morning I decided I should listen to a song I hadnt heard for years.


The Art Teacher


As I listened, the song took me back, and halfway through it, somebody sent me a text message out of the blue to tell me they had been listening to the same song and were thinking of me.

tossing and turning

Cliche as it might be, I realised last night that I found something I didnt know I had lost.

I am truly grateful for this, because to not realise how unhappy you are until it has left you is possibly for the best..

It struck me halfway through a sleepless night that I was thinking again as a young person with optimism, not someone who was slowly growing old and getting frustrated with everything in their life. I thought about some of the things that had made me see myself only as hopeless and insignificant, and I cried.

Partly because I didn't understand how someone who had (apparently) been so unhappy didnt cry anymore, and partly out of confusion, because I didn't feel sad about it, rather relieved and a little bit enlightened. I never like to cry in front of people, but i used to cry on my own a lot, and until it hit me i hadnt even noticed this had stopped. The same applies for talking in my sleep.

Instead of feeling upset and lonely, I counted all my blessings, which appeared mainly in the shape of friends I never expected to matter as much as they do.

:)

places in our minds which change with the passing of time will (given half a chance) seek to tarnish what enchants us

relax

it's a soft igloo

and you can't have it anyway.

these ships

are you the sort of woman
who wears make up when you sleep?
does the sight of lipstick on his collar
make you want to weep?
did you realise he was just
another boring metaphor
when he shouted you are perfect
and whispered for a whore...?

is his beauty really wonderful
or carved trouble deep?
did you notice when he said
i do not want you 'till you're cheap
did you think he wouldn't look at you
until he saw your ribs?
did you think perhaps he'd love you
if you tried to shrink your hips?

when he smiles does it hurt
because he paralysed your lips?
will it ruin his career
if you choose to sink these ships?
when you slip your fingers down your throat
do you think of him?
did he let you tell yourself
that nothing tastes as good

as being thin?

its not like i am one

as i sat cross-legged on the floor of the humanities corridor outside my tutors room, i opened my book and shamefully felt every inch the annoying, pretentious student who acted like she wanted everybody to know what she was reading and why.

this was until two girls sat down outside another door, and began discussing their essay in the irritating multi-reigonal yaryaryarlike student accent that spreads like a disease over campuses across the country each year.

"i was gonna like, do about like, women but then like, i thought it would be a bad idea cos like, i dont really know much about it and stuff... like."

i lifted my copy of "the female eunuch" to cover my face and wished it would cover my ears too.

"he said you were the first girl to make him sit up and take notice in a long time, in years."

i have been thinking about this on and off and still dont know how much nothing to keep doing about it.

"when you grow up, your heart dies" -ally sheedy, the breakfast club

to aid the childrens writing assignment i have spent a lot of time watching movies about teenagers in high school because the part of me that felt things strongly and remembers what it was like to be one has conveniently packed its bags and left just when i needed it most.

this photo was taken at the entrance of school.

when i find a day that doesnt involve being in work from 8am-11pm i will edit this post with reviews of the creative writing launch and josie long, who was a genius.

has died

death on facebook is such an odd thing, it really unnerves me.

i found out someone i was friends with had died through facebook two years ago while i was in a room full of people and it was awful.

i saw a "RIP" profile tonight and went on the page of the girl who had died as i didnt know her but we had a lot of mutual friends so i figured that she was someone from home.

she was pretty and young and her passing has obviously had a huge impact on people, but the thing that sent shivers down my spine was a set of pictures "updated a week ago."

rest in peace alice.

I have to admit, I had high hopes for Germaine Greer.

I heard that she was an excellent public speaker and know just enough about her extensive career to appreciate the effect she has had without being able to form an overly educated opinion on her.

Germaine certainly has a way of captivating the audience. Even within a full room with compromised air conditioning and menopausal temperatures, all eyes were on her. Her talk, White and Black in Australia could have become a rant; instead it was an educated, thought-provoking and at times extremely moving account of the problems aborigines face in Australia. Admittedly, it would not be something I would ever think of researching, partly because I was unaware of the issues surrounding it. Germaine Greer brought the talk alive, with perfect timing and expression, and the sort of steamroller passion that I fear has died out in my generation. She did a wonderful job of sincerely exposing her subject matter with insightful knowledge and as expected, sharp wit. Towards the end of the talk I had to swallow my tears... "I think we have missed the boat" was far too poignant for anyone to dismiss. As she famously said herself, “words stay in there forever” and I don’t think anyone will forget White and Black in Australia.


What equally impressed me about Greer was how approachable she was towards the long line of people waiting to speak to her after the talk. As me and my friend Griff were second to last in the queue and had waited (a bit impatiently) for nearly two hours to meet her, I think it would be fair to say that if her patience was wearing thin, it would’ve been on us. Quite the contrary; Germaine Probably realised how awkwardly star struck we were and welcomed us kindly. She wanted to know all about us and complimented me on my afghan coat, commenting that she used to have a similar one in the 60s. This of course made my day, and she was warm to us in the way a person’s relative would be when you wished they were yours. When Germaine Greer had entered the room, I felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance. I realised that stood before me was a woman who had made a real difference in the world, and here she was at my University, asking me what I do as if I mattered. I am fully aware that being in awe of other human beings is an embarrassing trait to possess, but this wasn’t just a bland celebrity with (as my friend Griff puts it) “as much personality as a pair of damp socks,” she was someone who had changed the lives of thousands of women.


This made her talk feel even more genuine, and the night truly unforgettable.

Help I need to jump I said

How high

Came the reply

High enough

To kill my darlings

If you please

Said I

Attending the GRM concert, I was a little apprehensive that it may have turned out to be one of those pretentious clunky noise performances that people pretend to “get” so as not to look stupid. Luckily, it was not. There were clunky noises, but they smoothed out and bounced off one another in really interesting, unpredictable combinations. Everything sounded very strange, but not unfamiliar at all. The performance was a recording in the dark, which suited the mood well. Dimming the lights meant it felt a lot less awkward to close ones eyes and imagine suitably warped images to accompany the noises, plus it minimised distractions to a pleasing level.

The GRM consisted of four pieces. Semaphores by Christian Zanesi, Still by Benjamin Thigpen, Reflets de notre societe crepusculaire by Pierre Alexandre Tremblay and Transmutations by Daniel Teruggi. I won’t pretend for a second to know a thing about music technology, but I could appreciate how intricate the formations of sounds were, and of course how they made me feel. The first thing that sprung to mind was “Oh gosh, it’s like LSD for ears.” As if someone was dripping raspberry sorbet on my cochlea, the quirkiness sent my head whizzing sideways with word and image association. At one point I was almost certain that I was about to have a sack of rice tipped down my back. The surround sound was out of this world, allowing noises to circle smoothly around the audience, which was very satisfying and polished.

Some of the sounds I Identified (to the best of my hearing) were waves, a didgeridoo, a door and an orchestra. The best experience by far was the elongated dropping of what sounded like marbles from a bag. The crystal quality of the noises provided something which felt too intelligent for my ears. The pieces fitted around each other well, and sent me into a much anticipated dreamlike trance. This being said, it was not easy listening. The second the audience were fooled into thinking they could drift off to enya-like melodies, a warped trumpet would jump in and demand that everyone sat upright and appreciated each second as a crucial aspect of a painstakingly original creation.

I attended a Creative Writing talk today where a few postgrads shared their work, all excellent stuff, and refreshing to see ex-students doing well after a disheartening year learning about the difficulties within the literary market.

The poems which focues on aspects of the gaming world were especially good, and Mystie from the mountains read from her novel too, which was really interesting and well projected.

Later in the day there was a guest talk from Alexi Sayle.
I have to admit, I didn't know a lot about him, but I do know that he is a big deal and rather funny. I don't mean to be ignorant, I just feel that going to a guest lecture without really doing your research can be quite useful. Rather than building the performance up based on their life's work, you can take them at face value which is free from bias, and learn a few exceptional things along the way. It worked with Adele Parks and Liz Lochead last year anyway.

The talk was rather insightful, and hilarious at times. He had some interesting stories about meeting George Lucas and Harrison Ford. When speaking of rulers, he said that he believed everyone wanted to feel significant and safe- I definitley connected with that statement. He also mentioned that his parents (who were fierce communists) wouldnt let him watch bambi. At the end, my friend asked "how do you become funny in five words or less?"
"Fuck off Shithead" was the reply.

I like the man.

gosh

today was absolutley lovely.

the sun has finally come out again and provided perfect weather for basking on a rock outside the university, smoking roll ups and chatting to all manners of friendly passers by.

i even looked after charlie the dog for a few minutes.

with all my hangovers, i get a period of grinning immensely and feeling really warm and pleased about everything, and although it often follows with shakes and anxiety, it was nice to feel so happy and content with everything.

plus, kissing occured the night before...


he was from liverpool and people call me "fairyworld." it wouldve been a lost opportunity not to sing "fairy...'cross the mersey..."

i know this is innapropriate for the internet, but i dont give a shit. have you seen the rest of the world wide web? (its hardly 2g1c now is it.) i could do a lot worse than a drunken kiss.