Oh dear, large chunks of my memory are disappearing. If I just remembered when and where I bought that tobacco I would be fine. It's not as if it's a big thing, but it is!!!
And then once upon a time someone tried to write a clever introduction that played with the way literary tradition has approached the beginning (particularly in folk tales).
Ahem.
Spider situations. You sit in the middle of a complicated web of other spiders... But then realise that you are in the interesting position of being both predator and prey. You levitate (in your spider mind) above it all and think (with your spider mind) how to approach, how to plan your attack and defence strategy. Then you come to the conclusion that perhaps you are not a spider, but a bacteria, existing en masse with many others of your species. You do not share a conciousness, but you share a same purpose. Subsequently reflect back on your metaphor and begin to assess it meditating on the fact that if you extend it, it will crumble and become inaccurate.
But you need a metaphor for some reason.
Oh dear, it has been a while since my last installent, dreadfully sorry my adoring multitides (HA HA!).
Good gosh, I can't possibly communicate how odd the last few months have been. It is as if reality has decided it will try origami for a while.
Silly silly, origami is only for odd people.
Anyhoo who cares? I am now officaily employed! And I get paid and everything. Shame money is the root of all evil and all that.
Lordy I wish to be far away, or at least in the presence of someone who I can adore. That's the bloody thing, being able to adore. If only.
Love to Sarah and Estie and Eleanor and Mikey and Vez and Amy and Cazz and Jenny and that special someone who remains far from view. Oh so far. God bless.
Social endeavor is a tricky beast, one that must be tamed!
Especially during the holiday season, twould be lovely to see more of some people, but then I suppose if you cant, that has to be let go. When friends and relationships change and regenerate that can be sad, but life is not static, it is constantly transient. Transience is both creative and destructive.
I partly long for the great Before, but then I know that that is gone. Maybe if I knew when Before was and what it was made of then letting go of it would be easier. But then Now is not so bad, I know a great deal of scrummy people and that should be appreciated. I want to put everyone in a great big box because then I would know what is going on. Garg, control freakery.
Its the damn holidays that's what it is. It's nice to be able to make your own plans, or just spend the day dreaming of this that and the other, but school lends structure. Its not the structure that's good, it's having something that's always there however much you stray from it. The straying is the best part:)
Holidays are interesting for people people, there are lots of new persons to be met, which is wonderful (love to Jules and Joe and Amy), but sustaining contact with the amazing people who are already in your life sometimes wavers. There's nothing like spending time with people who know you inside out, too inside out! And sometimes that just doesn't happen, but that's what school is for I suppose.
Anyway, have a fab time Reading crew, damn you all!
Why oh why the bloody scenic route?
Days seem strange at the moment, full of little things, little tasks to keep me occupied from moment to moment. There is so much to do, but it is as if I am afraid that doing it will destabilise the status quo. The days are links on a chain and the moments of the day tiny beads.
Full of thoughts and musings that never seem to materialise properly into activity.
I suppose I would make a fantastic bored housewife, with my endless capacity for creating things to be done, my staggering ability to be absorbed in necessary but not fulfilling activities and my vast potential for complacent boredom. Ah, see, even in my vaguely depressing nuggets of reflection I manage to insert an effective little literary device:
That was a 'rule of three', in this case breaking a subject down into three aspects, each section of the sentance structured in the same way, adhering to a common pattern of description, to create a statement of impact.
Clever clever, welcome darlings to the highlight of my day.
Actually it has been a good day, don't listen to my silly indulgences. It has been a day of enjoyable conversation, constructive reflection and amusing, although embaressing incidents, that will in the future make for slight but entertaining anecdotes*. Bravo, bravo indeed.
Anyhoo, this won't do at all, I have a great deal of time to waste and I just don't feel that it is being wasted to its full potential here, writing is after all an Activity; in fact for many it is a career. Therefore what else is there to say other than farewell?
*Pattern of three, yes, yes its true, I am almost intolerably lame. I however prefer to think I am a goddess of cool. Oh shut up. No don't worry that was to myself.
The bars are up again and although the light sneakypeaks its way through, unfortunately people are too molecular... They will have to stay at a distance and observe what lets itself meander out.
A shame indeed, the day is cold and skin is warm.
But at least the true cold may not come in.
Il fumo ucide dammit, IL FUMO UCIDE!!
Oh but its good.
Trash lovely, oh so lovely
Fly from where you are and take me
up abovely.
See me through a rain trickled window and think thank god there's glass between us,
A damp barrier, solidly and chemically seperated by a cunning muddle of strategically placed molecules.
Hand against the glass, thinking like you, to see myself from a distant place.
Let me walk past the glass sheet,
obviosly discreet.
Bothered.
Urrrrgh... *note to self* the next time it seems like a good idea to ingest what has been in your friends pocket since the weekend, remember that it categorically isnt.
Oh well I can only hope that I was fairly civilised!
Time for a nice shiney positive diary entry:
Thankee to the many many people who have put up with much sillyness, irrationality, triviality, annoyingness and girly crisisness! You are all wonderful and deserve many happy days, one of which will be this Sunday! A yummy day full of sun, grass (grass?) good company, questionable music and many many cigarettes. Teehee Rock In The Park is a funny name.
Friends are like scaffolding, they are lovely jubbly and if I can be half as good a friend as certain people (the fact that I have, or hope I have more than one is fantabulous) then I am a happy starparsnip.
*hugs* to a lot of people, some because they deserve big thanyous, and some because a lot of people just need one.
Hugs dont happen often enough for my liking, they make things sparkly.
I have black fingers... They turn good things into mulch and mean that they aren't shiny anymore.
I think I need to be asleep for a very long time.
Well I seem to have cultivated quite a death rattle, several people have mentioned consumption as a possible explantion. I choose to ignore them and blow smoke in their faces. Mwa ha.
I wish heartbreak was like chicken pox, then you would only have to do it once. It gets tiresome after a while... And then you think, 'But I'm so young, this hasn't even got serious yet, not only do I have another couple of decades at the very least of this, but it's going to be so much worse.' Then you feel both idiotic and filled with doom.
Then you have a drink. Yum. I like my alchohol problem, it serves me well.
I can't work out what my greatest fear is, it's either heartbreak or umberellas.
Esther: This umberella has an incredibly short handle.
Beccy: Fool.
"Badges badges goth goth trivium so fiiiiiiiiit straight hair straight straight hair sticker." This line made my day.
It is the lightness of your kisses that starve my mouth,
And the lightness of your embrace that sends me adrift.
Dear god I wish I had written the poem that this line comes from.
Summer has bitten me. Its jaws spill flowers and light perfume over me. I'm not sure if I like it.
I was not aware that my cat could curl up that small.
My lower self has taken over.
I wish to know that you
(in your shadowfold entirety)
Think of me.
Tell me
(sing it to me, in your own song)
That my kisses press you
To dream
(on pillows rich with your rest)
Of when there will be others.
Dream a little dream of me
And I'll dream a little dream of thee
And have and hold
Its truth
And fold
Its meaning close
Its echo tight
When all is dark and all is night.
A little message to the star crossed, the confused and the heartbroken. Take from it what you will. Teehee I love finding random little written things from time ago. To think it was tacked onto my bio for so long and I forgot about it. Well it isnt all that good, but meh.
Hmm, its wonderful the way I speak with such assurance that this ramblings are to some kind of audience... Pathetic or sweet? Deluded or charming?
I prefer both latters personally, but then who wouldnt?
Spider spider where are you?
Spider spider what to do?
Spider spider made of string
Spider spider gave me a ring.
Spider spider on my wall
Spider spider don't you fall.
And on a completely unrelated tangent, please send [*daisyfreak*] love and goodness.
It is all to easy to be an eggshell nowadays. The illusion of being smooth and impermeable, of having a facinating and concealed content. But an illusion it is, the bubble is fragile and when it breaks you find that all interesting goodness drained out a long time ago. Really it is just full of air, a mixture of atoms whizzing around in no particular cohesive order, nothing to grab and hold on to.
Air is so interesting... We see the space it fills as negative space, but actually it is full of complex atomic structures sustaining every living organism. Therefore it really is quite a positive sort of space.
So by that logic being an empty eggshell is a good thing... You would want to exterior to crack, to reach the purity inside, you would accept that what is inside is good, even if something more usual, like a yolk, was expected.
My metaphor just ate itself.
Isn't it awful how the littlest things can make or break an evening? If a plan doesnt actually happen, or no one calls you about it or THAT person doesnt text you then nothing seems shiney. It just seems hot and dull and you feel hot and dull. Food is heavy and leaden, the moth that lives on your ceiling ceases to entertain you and tomorrow is all a bit silly.
There are people who are string and there are people who are elastic. String people are constant and grounded and outside influence only effects them a little bit, they remain relatively the same length and although they can be pulled and made tense they dont snap. Elastic people are volatile and suceptable to being pulled this way and that easily; outside forces affect them substantially and they are often stretched too far even by small amounts of exertion.
I am an elastic person who holds the shoddy guise of being a string person.
Its odd, the smallest event can be turned by intense paranoia into something earthshatterin
And its not as if I can tell a certain important person this; it would break the illusion of functionality that I work so hard to sustain and then things would really be quite dire.
I have a horrid feeling that this person will not want a whole lot to do with me any longer anyway. It is highly improbable. I refer back to my list of good things to do, one of them being not to form self destructive and inappropriate attatchments to people I shouldnt.
Oops a daisy.
A nasty nasty feeling of sick inevitability about the whole thing. Be optimistic the magazines tell you. Well I am a firm believer of expecting the worst and hoping for the best. That way when something goes wrong you have the sad, angry but slighty smug feeling that you predicted it, and if things go right, which they do very rarely, you can just feel happy. And feel happier because its like an unexpected present.
I may possibly be dysfunctional.
And so the year long venture into the realms of failure, disgust at lack of personal ability and the soul destroying rollercoasters of simultaneously feeling intense apathy and yet intense panic, is over. To those who are not initiated into this exciting club of creative torture, this means that art is over. Done. Dusted. Finished.
Well maybe not but the deadline is long gone.
Oh well.
Im sure I will find something else that makes me feel whole that I wont magnificently balls up.
Meh, well at least the weekend was interesting. It feels like the end of something. It was the end of a lot of things this weekend. Assumptions, possibilities, friendships. Well one friendship. Not even the end of one just the end of its continued viability. This aside it was eventful. Remind me to STAY on the sofa I have passed out on and not mission off to meet people who call me at two thirty in the morning. And if this is not viable, remind me to ask them if they have their keys with them, so a bed is available to me before half past five.
What larks.
The atmosphere is close today. Are vacuums hot or cold?