There are lots of tiny needles falling it's incredible.
and so I have decided in this end of January ennui and haziness that I wanted to write something. Even if it is slightly self indulgent, but what am I if not hedonistic in my indulging of my own indulgences. Fog seem rather a lovely case of pathetic fallacy right now though.. a cloud of confusion has fallen upon my brain and it is a case of not knowing anything. Is ignorance really bliss? I'm quite enjoying it but also detesting it somewhat. The lights of the car are blinding without the fog and shine brighter when it's lifted but they spread and splinter across the world when it's foggy.. but is that just shared confusion I don't know. I'm not one to be concise when it comes to anything but I feel somewhat stark at the moment except for the nights I have spent in the last few weeks listening to Pixies, syncing itself with the noisy bumps my washing machine makes, and warbling until 3am.
It may be true, but I really hope not, that if you don't use it you effectively lose it.. is that forever? god I hope not as I am still in the realms of a job I thought I'd leave over a year ago contemplating things that I wouldn't normally and discussing things that should be kept for the pages of Take a Break..
I'm glad to say though that I have noticed smaller things that make me happy in the last few weeks.
1. Putting my feet up on my glass coffee table as a sign of defiance at it's inability to remain streak free. I would like to point out to most Estate Agents, who are fast becoming a race of peoples I vastly dislike, that streaky coffee tables, brown relatively uncomfortable blocky sofas and white carpets are ridiculous ploys for deposit stealing schemes.. I'm fucking onto you....
2. I've mastered the art of reading a magazine and doing the G2 crossword WHILST discussing banking issues on the phone with the great British public. If I didn't forcibly remove every angst ridden ridiculous conversation I have had of late from my brain with a pair of powerful pliers then I would be writing some kind of book that revolved around a psychotic mad woman.. oh no wait..
3. That I've obviously grown up to some degree as I resisted from spending all my wages on a pair of Isabel Marant trousers and instead bought a month's supply of chickpeas and toilet roll. score. Whether I'm pleased about this I'm unsure.
4. This is the best thing I've enjoyed recently. I live under a bridge; bread eating at bus stops with my Judd Nelson fingerless gloves aside I am not quite a hobo, though I had a lovely discussion with the Big Issue man today. This bridge lets loose the trainspotter in me. I must admit the journeys and noises it makes aren't the most exciting in the area, that coveted title must go to the monthly window cleaner who seems to stab my windows with a battering ram when I'm naked or perhaps the late night winter ice cream van, redundant in the hazy shade of winter.. or so I thought (now I'm no shouting Daily Mail reader with the tolerance level of teenage talking head asked about the latest tweets by bored looking newsreaders but I do sing "Drugs van la la la" to the theme of Teddy Bears' Picnic that emanates from the van itself). The Bridge itself, and yes I'm going to make it a character now use my English degree to show some kind of insight with the Bridge and it's situations in life itself. The Bridge is a mother holding host to a family of noisy yet delightful pigeons, I say delightful as they have yet to shit on me on my way to work, no no the public wait for that when I get there. The Bridge has a nice little nook, now back to the hobo bit, a nook that if it were warmer I would curl up in and watch the world go by. But the number one best thing about The Bridge is the array of clutter I find under it. Difficult stains. Dogs. Dog shit (not so excited about this bit but it adds to the atmosphere obviously). and the creepy baby carriage... complete with half emptied tin of oak stain. I'm going to keep a list.
Things I'm still disliking though are checked shirts. I have delved into the Primarni men's sections (yes I know it's cheap and shit but at least I'm wearing something ludicrous that cost me £3... bad) I do admit I'm rather hypocrite as I am currently wearing a plaid, flannel nightie complete with plaits in my hair and wooly slippers. It's true, at night I get my Laura Ingalls Wilder outfit on and pretend I'm in Skins. Well I do when I'm not pretending to be Ginsberg.
And adverts for work. I am still holding out for my telepathic application I have been sending to 6music since the day I first tuned in "Yes I do know lots of things test me Jarvis- The National? Why yes they are rather good but you acclaim them a bit to reverently. Oh look a song I've never heard before.. ooh thanks for waking me up to the Strokes again cheers"
As my inner monologue is coming out in spurts, it was only a matter of time-Hell was wrong Love doesn't come in spurts, words and inner monologues and madness do-I should probably wrap up what is a rather disjointed entry that is mostly being used as a state of proving I've hopefully not become an inane gimp, just a raving narcissist.
Well actually the madness might be ongoing. I start to worry when I find it interesting that the billboards on the way to work have changed.
I don't want to put many pictures in today. I want to paint something instead and put it up soon. My art work is becoming more and more hippy fair with sideline of hemp. It upsets me.
Things I've been doing: Deliberating feminist ways to enjoy a play we're putting on in the town of Liverpool.. That Takes Ovaries is on at the Unity on the 10th, 11th and 12th...
The people who find it strange I'm a feminist confuse me.. I enjoy filth but it's my equal rights to do what I want without being labelled a man hating menace.... pigeon holed into a place that created all the holes for pigeons in the world.
Knitting... eating spaghetti... reloading all my music onto my computer as a mishap has deleted everything. I've been sat on my floor listening to Nico and sighing.
There will be more I'm just confused by life.... and my loss of music has stolen my heart for awhile... emotions aside.. no wait no emotions aside I resent stoicism and silence..
and planning my trip to Coachella.... to explore the world. On the road again...
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