Friday, April 30, 2010

it has all gone too fast.

if i stop to think too slowly

i will cry and i won't stop

and it wont help.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

all i have to say on the matter

"You're looking awesome, seriously. But be careful."

Friday, April 16, 2010

i watched a video of dad spinning me round with his hands, me squealing like an excited piggy to altered images aged 2 in the living room. when he watched it he probably felt sad too that i am grown up now.

then i watched one of grandma. she picked me up and held me close and gave me a cuddle. she has been dead for 15 years and i didnt even remember her voice. i got as sad as ive been for a while but this time i cried.

then i fell asleep and dreamed earthquakes and swimming and shattered glass and deep baths.

but i also saw my friends back in cheshire floating around inside my head and when i opened my eyes i was at home.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

we lay on a hobo blanket in his front garden.
my legs were in the air.
the flashdance top which had fashioned itself as a dress through choosing a size too big was riding up and revealing the tops of my thighs to the neighbourhood.
his legs lay across mine.
we didnt care.
he drew and i wrote.

he asked me what i wanted to do if i could do anything at all.
"go to canada. become famous. not too famous, just famous enough to matter. then come home and be nobody again, i think that would be cool."
"yeah, that would be cool. i want to have intercourse with barack and michelle obama. i guess your wish is slightly more plausible."
we laughed, almost catnapped, and when the clouds covered the sun we went inside to watch a film.

just a perfect day

i loved that mental jetlag.
my body was sat, arse frozen on my doorstep puffing on a roll-up i wish i hadnt told myself i wanted, while my mind was still 100 miles away on warm grass in the sunshine with everyone who mattered once.

having another place to call home means i can escape and three years are quickly erased. the memories we cant share are wiped clean and all that is left is an easier, simpler time when we were just friends with few real cares or worries, living out of each others pockets with a naive outlook on the a small town you can dream that you will become anything.

Friday, April 9, 2010

tori and stipe

bouncing off clouds
near wild heaven

shallow thoughts

gaunt face
doe eyes
licked lips
i want you
i want you
i want you

Thursday, April 8, 2010

i love stipe

R.E.M - she just wants to be

It's not that she walked away
Her world got smaller
All the usual places
The same destinations
Only something's changed.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

It's not that the transparency
Of her earlier incarnations
Now looked back on
Were rich and loaded
With beautiful vulnerability
But now she knows
Now is greater
And she knows that.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

today i ran again,
across the bridge and down by the river, close to where my Grandmas ashes were scattered.

i stopped for a while to catch my breath, and when i looked around and saw how perfect and peaceful everything was, i felt a few tears buzz and prickle at the back of my eyes.

when i come back here it often feels like i have walked into a distorted dream or a blurred memory.

everything becomes very vivid with a fuzzy border, and i feel upset as well as my happiest.

the part of my stomach which used to ache for people now aches for home... even when i am here.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before... He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."

-Kurt Vonnegut

dandy lion

"sometimes when i get in from a night out i think of you both and how you are getting on in leicester..."

well i think of you too.

all the time.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Watching lulu on the tv just now, I got very annoyed. She was talking about the ways plastic surgery can ruin a face, without being capable of moving hers at all. She does look great for her age but seeing a multi millionaire with a great shape and great figure doesn’t mean anything to normal women with regular salaries. I don’t know what I want to do with my life but I am as good as certain it will never involve being rich, so to see a rich women looking great is worse than seeing poor people look terrible, because it shows that it is attainable. The possibility that a woman can look amazing at 50 exists, but only as long as you have a disposable fortune. This impossible goal is cruel, and can destroy self confidence if you use it in comparison with yourself.
What people really need to see is how realistic goals can be reached. This is the point at which I realised how blessed I am to have such great role models.

At my age, my mum definitely had a better figure than me. She lost it over the years, but always manages to look brilliant whatever she is wearing because she knows how to flatter herself, and accessorises with quirky jewellery without making it look like an overstatement. She has never dyed her hair so it looks great, and she doesn’t wear too much make up either, which works in her favour. My Grandma and Auntie on my Dads side of the family look impeccable for their age. Perhaps it is in part due to “good genes” but the fact that they eat well, sleep properly and exercise regularly has to have had some effect on it all. They don’t look “young” because they are not young. They just look great for their age. I don’t want to have a shiny, stretched face with no expression; I want wrinkles that show me as a real person with emotions.

My obsession with weight is embarrassing. After death, being fat is the thing I fear most, and I know that makes me a hideously shallow person. I am going to get old; that much is unavoidable (perhaps if nothing else it will bring some clarity) but the thought of spreading out absolutely terrifies me. Seeing the women on both sides of the family looking as well as they do gives me some confidence. I am blessed that the only things they have wanted me to change are my piercings and provocative clothes, both of which I grew out of on my own. They embraced me being an individual teenager, and always said “dare to be different” So I did. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to encounter adults trying to change how you looked and felt. I hear dreadful stories about mothers who tell girls with perfect figures to lose weight because of their own insecurities, and I hope if I have children I would have the backbone to love them no matter how they looked and not pass on any of my own hang-ups about self image, just the way my family have.