February 2012
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Going home makes the ways in which I’ve changed so much more obvious.
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I have been listening to him for four and a half hours, now, and I’m not even a quarter of the way through the Tom Waits collection on my iPod. This is where being obsessed with a sexagenarian pays off.
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AUDREY HORNE TRIBUTE LIFE
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No Touching
I would like to ruin your life let it not be said I lack the necessary imagination to be jealous I would ask you to tell no-one about us and if you tell no-one about us I’ll fight hard to hide my disappointment I would like you to renounce your past as quite a big mistake it will mean something although I will never completely forgive you I think you represent the possibility in my...
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Well, that was horrible. I don’t think it was bad, exactly, I could just feel myself constantly choking on the feeling of being underwhelmed and underwhelming, consistently Not Very Good.
I could get very existentialist about perception and projection, and trees falling in forests, but there’s very little point. I know what I’m talking about, but it’s an unsympathetic...
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My friend just spontaneously walked into my room with her guitar and played two of the most lovely, heartfelt songs I’ve ever heard, and now I feel envious and inadequate and I think I probably just fell in love with her and eakdjfnar;gjnehqfiyhua
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WHY DON’T YOU LIKE ME?
Chapter One: my first period.
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I’m doing a poetry slam thing, tomorrow night, and I don’t know what to read, because I’ve suddenly realised how loathsome everything I’ve ever written is.
I was a far better writer before anything had ever happened to me. I guess going completely mental will do that to you.
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Bought new headphones and they’re forest green and pretty great and have a thumpy bass which is making me want to listen to R&B. Jason Derülo has never sounded better.
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This is largely irrelevant for anyone who doesn't... →
The Kate Kennedy Club is infamously sexist, elitist and snobbish, and it seems like it’s basically dead, or, at least, dead in its most chauvinistic form. I just called my mum, who went to St Andrews, thirty years ago, and she said she was glad she lived to see the day.
I am thrilled. I am utterly thrilled.
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“I considered it desirable that he should know nothing about me but it was even...”
– Flann O’Brien, The Third Policeman
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I’m caught between wanting to be a confessional-blog-person, and wanting to delete everything I’ve ever said on the internet.
I’m making a big deal out of this (something I always do, part of the reason why I don’t think having a place to talk about my feelings is a good thing), but growing up is awful.
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I got the position at that poetry festival, which is really, really funny, considering the fact that I answered question three, about my qualifications, with
“I smoke Gauloises and sometimes drink port So you know that I am the poetical sort.”
(A line for which I can take no credit. Cheers, Waldo.)
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Q4: Are you willing to make a commitment [to...
) with: time enough to write and sleep to fill my sun-up days with: poetry - with: words - with: work - with: people -
is(not work)like daydreaming; perfect March (the season’s weather told in evenings past in poetry
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I am applying to work at a poetry festival, in poem form. I have so far written an awkward acrostic, a ham-fisted haiku and a load of forced free verse in the style of e e cummings.
If they offer me the position, I will be very surprised.
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Listening to Cat Power on the radio and realising I kind of like someone and it’s probably not viable and forced out of my room until 2am because my roommate is with her boyfriend and walking in on them three times in a week would be too much.
bewalkingtrees replied to your post: My roommate’s boyfriend just had her delivered her…
my roommate’s boyfriend just left an envelope (letter?) for her in our mailbox because he works today and i thought that was cute but: ALLLLL BY MYYSEELF…etc.
Ahhhhhh. Valentine’s Day is only awkward for single people when you have relationshippy people around you making a thing out of it.
...
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My roommate’s boyfriend just had her delivered her a huge bouquet of red roses. I don’t even like red roses. I think they’re clichéd.
But:
ALLLL BY MYSELLLLLLF
DON’T WANNA BEEEE
ALLLLLL BY MYYYYYSEELLLLLF
ANYMOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOORE
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The Tangential: Valentines From a Single Gal →
thetangential:
“I don’t really even like edible gifts or attention of any kind, so this day is like really not a big deal to me!”
“I wore this ridiculously over the top red and pink outfit to camouflage the fact that I feel bad that I haven’t had a boyfriend in a year and a half!”
“I didn’t shave my…
Aw, crap.
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alicestweart:
why is it so appropriate for people of my generation to be really glum and unamused all the time?
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I didn’t play chess for a decade and I’m still a mother-fuckin’ badass.
I suppose I was under-eleven UK girls chess champion for a reason.
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Because today seems like a perfect day to be both lonely and bitter, I am reading The End of The Affair for the ninety-eighth time.
It’s making me want to throw things.
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“When Dostoevsky met Dickens in 1862—a meeting that is hard to imagine—Dickens...”
– Verlyn Klinkenborg, “The Whirling Sound of Planet Dickens” (via d-lynch)
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Actually, I don’t really hate everything. I’m just HORRIBLY hungry.
I HATE EVERYTHING
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I have a house for next year (it’s small and white and has two gardens, and it’s on a quiet little lane just away from the town centre) (why yes, I am bragging) and I’m ALLOWED PETS.
There is absolutely no way in hell in which I’m NOT getting a cat. I want some kind of long haired tortoiseshell or tabby, who’ll sit next to me on the sofa and watch TV and we’ll...
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“The moment in The Bell Jar when Esther Greenwood realizes after thirty days in...”
– Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation (via bluebird-in-my-heart)
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Sylvia Plath died 49 years ago today.
This time next year, I’m having a wake.
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World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural.
grimmstale replied to your post: I have been told that I’m intimidating FIVE TIMES…
I get told this all the time. I got over it by telling myself constantly that they merely lacked the vocabulary and that in truth what they wanted to say was hat I was very passionate or intense. Keep saying this to yourself until you believe it.
It just seems weird. I guess it’s kind of a...