you can't take back the bad things you've done
but apparently if you're really sorry about them it heals itself.
which is awesome.
except now it hurts a little bit but it's numb.
i miss camilla, why is she in london.
i need her to come to town with me tomorrow.
i miss lily, i haven't seen her since thursday and i haven't spoken to her since sunday.
uh oh the paranoia's back
hush little thoughts! hush!
'evrale dostat chernil i plakat,
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd,
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit.'
(in English)
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Friday, 4 December 2009
this blog will save/ruin your life
There are those boys with earthly eyes
Their eyes are like the ground
You walk and walk, kickin' up dirt
But they don't make a sound
And when they kiss you, they sometimes leave 'em open
To make sure you don't drown
Yeah, the sweetest eyes, the truest eyes are probably dark brown
There are those boys with golden hazel eyes
The colour of weak tea
They spend their nights howlin' at the moon
To let go of the sea
The scope of their depth is terrifying, thrilling
You think you're finally free
When you capture you
'Cause golden eyes are as sticky as honey from a bee
I'm drownin'...
But those with blue I shouldn't trust
'Cause I myself have blue
You fall for them so easy
You think you see right through
You take a leap, thinking the water is deep
When suddenly it's just grey rain
Then puddles at your feet, they turn to dirty ice
But somehow they'll melt back to clean blue water once again
Confusing...
went to see Regina Spektor last night
i've been waiting five years to see her, i know because when i first wanted to go see her i was flying to see my mother on the day of her concert.
that made me sad, more than it should have.
Regina is right about eye colour, even using such sweeping generalisations.
i have blue eyes which i like to believe goes well with ginger red hair.
she did this song a capella, which means without instruments and good.
she is the human spirit in a little black dress.
today i did 5 things:
went to college, went to chain smoke camel cigarettes with Lileth during lunch, read about the purges during Stalin's reign, listened to sad songs by female singers, got drunk with my father.
and not one of them took my mind off you.
Their eyes are like the ground
You walk and walk, kickin' up dirt
But they don't make a sound
And when they kiss you, they sometimes leave 'em open
To make sure you don't drown
Yeah, the sweetest eyes, the truest eyes are probably dark brown
There are those boys with golden hazel eyes
The colour of weak tea
They spend their nights howlin' at the moon
To let go of the sea
The scope of their depth is terrifying, thrilling
You think you're finally free
When you capture you
'Cause golden eyes are as sticky as honey from a bee
I'm drownin'...
But those with blue I shouldn't trust
'Cause I myself have blue
You fall for them so easy
You think you see right through
You take a leap, thinking the water is deep
When suddenly it's just grey rain
Then puddles at your feet, they turn to dirty ice
But somehow they'll melt back to clean blue water once again
Confusing...
went to see Regina Spektor last night
i've been waiting five years to see her, i know because when i first wanted to go see her i was flying to see my mother on the day of her concert.
that made me sad, more than it should have.
Regina is right about eye colour, even using such sweeping generalisations.
i have blue eyes which i like to believe goes well with ginger red hair.
she did this song a capella, which means without instruments and good.
she is the human spirit in a little black dress.
today i did 5 things:
went to college, went to chain smoke camel cigarettes with Lileth during lunch, read about the purges during Stalin's reign, listened to sad songs by female singers, got drunk with my father.
and not one of them took my mind off you.
Monday, 30 November 2009
i believe
i have been in love twice
which is significantly more than most people my age.
but one was the fleeting magical love that you know is pointless longing after and merely indulge yourself in when you're hungry.
and the other...oh the other.
they come back with that stupid masculine insight that they have no idea how to use and they pick up the phone and drag you, kicking and screaming, back into their world.
the bastards.
so i'm going to wrap the scarf you advised me to buy around my head, wrap it tight so it blocks out my eyes and ears and senses.
and lie down and stop breathing for a winter or so.
and wait for my ribs to cement and my lungs to seize up
and atrophy to set in whilst i wait for it to stop.
oh well.
jimmy pop is a guilty pleasure
probably because he's so filthy
which is significantly more than most people my age.
but one was the fleeting magical love that you know is pointless longing after and merely indulge yourself in when you're hungry.
and the other...oh the other.
they come back with that stupid masculine insight that they have no idea how to use and they pick up the phone and drag you, kicking and screaming, back into their world.
the bastards.
so i'm going to wrap the scarf you advised me to buy around my head, wrap it tight so it blocks out my eyes and ears and senses.
and lie down and stop breathing for a winter or so.
and wait for my ribs to cement and my lungs to seize up
and atrophy to set in whilst i wait for it to stop.
oh well.
jimmy pop is a guilty pleasure
probably because he's so filthy
Monday, 23 November 2009
home early
this weekend was the heaviest in a long time.
i heard some kids today, about 15, talking about trying to get into pure this weekend.
made me feel old cause now i'd much rather stay at Lily's and watch Withnail with a bottle of red wine.
nostalgic and all.
and everyone's excited cause they're getting 18 and can now actually go out and it's just old now.
it's boring: you go out, spend lots of money, go home and sleep.
instead we talk and discover each other and it's much better.
i've missed camilla this week, i haven't seen her since she decided to start going to class.
i need some cigs
i heard some kids today, about 15, talking about trying to get into pure this weekend.
made me feel old cause now i'd much rather stay at Lily's and watch Withnail with a bottle of red wine.
nostalgic and all.
and everyone's excited cause they're getting 18 and can now actually go out and it's just old now.
it's boring: you go out, spend lots of money, go home and sleep.
instead we talk and discover each other and it's much better.
i've missed camilla this week, i haven't seen her since she decided to start going to class.
i need some cigs
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
it's 4:30 am
didn't wake up til 3 yesterday afternoon so now's not the time for sleeping.
it's kind of chilled with old American bands i'd forgotten about and the Cracked archives.
i wish camilla was online just because everyone else who is is in another country.
apparently the 'Got Milk?' campaign with the Olsen twins was totally inappropriate because at the time Mary-Kate was anorexic.
remember when the Olsen twins were cute? the 90s were a good time, no doubt.
it's kind of chilled with old American bands i'd forgotten about and the Cracked archives.
i wish camilla was online just because everyone else who is is in another country.
apparently the 'Got Milk?' campaign with the Olsen twins was totally inappropriate because at the time Mary-Kate was anorexic.
remember when the Olsen twins were cute? the 90s were a good time, no doubt.
Monday, 2 November 2009
today
i have got the flu and it's pretty bad.
it would be okay but the TV is broke cause the wind blew the aerial off the roof so we just about get BBC 1 + 2 and all they have on during the day is Flog It! and Escape To The Country and other shows for middle class housewives.
and facebook is messing up and pathetically that bothers me because i can't get on Sorority Life.
and i kind of miss school, it's something to do. and Gaff's because they have coke in glass bottles and Jones Soda and Special K bars.
on a plus side i managed to say 'pi ka' before sneezing today.
also, cooking something in a wok doesn't make it chinese food.
especially if it's an omelette.
it would be okay but the TV is broke cause the wind blew the aerial off the roof so we just about get BBC 1 + 2 and all they have on during the day is Flog It! and Escape To The Country and other shows for middle class housewives.
and facebook is messing up and pathetically that bothers me because i can't get on Sorority Life.
and i kind of miss school, it's something to do. and Gaff's because they have coke in glass bottles and Jones Soda and Special K bars.
on a plus side i managed to say 'pi ka' before sneezing today.
also, cooking something in a wok doesn't make it chinese food.
especially if it's an omelette.
Sunday, 30 August 2009
pick a star on the dark horizon
i floated through the sun and shadows of glass when you called my name, unsure whether it was me, the question mark evident.
you leaned against the pillar, all china skin and beauty spot and height, elegant like a modern David.
deer caught in headlights, you took me by surprise, pinned down under the weight of your brown eyes. it was all i could do to stutter out 'hi' before you hugged me, brought me close to your chest. that scent filtered into my brain to crystallise and burn at the synapse. that scent that was like body heat and angels wings and foreign tongue all mixed together in the square inch where my nose was pressed.
then you let go and we talked, caught up in news and flirted with the idea of going out. but that idea stayed silent, best not to scare this fawn off...
i was faintly aware of my hair and my smudged eyeliner but it was muted, the volume of insecurity turned down. none of the feminine guilt and adolescent nature you'd come to expect from me. we just talked.
then the bus pulled up beside us and you suggested that i should leave. a teasing nudge, flippant and casual. and i obliged because what else could i do? you had to leave and those words we shared are as fragile as porcelain dolls, easily shattered upon the linoleum floor. no use to tie us together, wrap around us, to nurture.
after i left i smiled, involuntary muscles contracting to pull half my mouth up - some secret smile i kept hidden from you. the ache and long of leaving you pulled from every limb, drawn out notes from a melancholy violin.
but the sun shone, as the sun will do all my lifetime and yours and everyone else's. clouds hung around, too lazy to move and with no wind to motivate them. life carried on, no different save for this new ball of energy i'd locked up in my chest, shining this burning light throughout every cell. this pendent, a totem of love, you incarnate in my very own sun.
you leaned against the pillar, all china skin and beauty spot and height, elegant like a modern David.
deer caught in headlights, you took me by surprise, pinned down under the weight of your brown eyes. it was all i could do to stutter out 'hi' before you hugged me, brought me close to your chest. that scent filtered into my brain to crystallise and burn at the synapse. that scent that was like body heat and angels wings and foreign tongue all mixed together in the square inch where my nose was pressed.
then you let go and we talked, caught up in news and flirted with the idea of going out. but that idea stayed silent, best not to scare this fawn off...
i was faintly aware of my hair and my smudged eyeliner but it was muted, the volume of insecurity turned down. none of the feminine guilt and adolescent nature you'd come to expect from me. we just talked.
then the bus pulled up beside us and you suggested that i should leave. a teasing nudge, flippant and casual. and i obliged because what else could i do? you had to leave and those words we shared are as fragile as porcelain dolls, easily shattered upon the linoleum floor. no use to tie us together, wrap around us, to nurture.
after i left i smiled, involuntary muscles contracting to pull half my mouth up - some secret smile i kept hidden from you. the ache and long of leaving you pulled from every limb, drawn out notes from a melancholy violin.
but the sun shone, as the sun will do all my lifetime and yours and everyone else's. clouds hung around, too lazy to move and with no wind to motivate them. life carried on, no different save for this new ball of energy i'd locked up in my chest, shining this burning light throughout every cell. this pendent, a totem of love, you incarnate in my very own sun.
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