haven't posted on here in a while (hi Laura)
big news so far:
been invited to write some plays for West Yorkshire Playhouse in association BBC :D
we all sat around being all cool and nonchalant until the director left then we all just screamed a little and called everyone we knew.
we have images to protect, ok?
also, today i made chocolate and carrot cake, it's fit as hell but not for the diet conscious
i'm taking it into work so all the diet conscious women can squirm
Thursday, 18 November 2010
Thursday, 16 September 2010
true story
When I was little I spent my life on motorways. Me and my dad would drive all over the North West and he would tell me stories and the history of the sad, desolate moors. One story he told was about a bridge.
This bridge was immense, looming out in the gap between two great cliffs that stretched up either side of the six lane road. The great stone arches curved up in their own individual sunrises until the top was just a distant line far above us. As you drew nearer you could see the graffiti tags of young boys brave enough, or stupid enough, to clamber between the concrete walls with just sweaty hands as a safety net.
According to my dad, and therefore local legend, the bridge was notorious for being a favourite place for suicide. The hardened farmers sipping bitter in pubs whispered about those who lost everything and drove up the winding hills to the bridge. From there they would stare down at people in cars like ants, and jump. Everyone withheld their sympathy, noone would come visit if the roads were closed - but in their mind everyone shook their head and thought in a sick sense of awe of how much guts it must have took to look down at a hundred miles of tarmac and sigh and step off...
At that age I had not yet learnt to take my dad's stories with a pinch of salt. As I grew up I never heard of even one more death from that bridge, let alone the hundreds he had mentioned. But something from that story stayed with me. I couldn't shake the idea that one day someone would jump and I would see them, or worse yet that they'd hit our car. That paralysing fear consumed every thought I had about that particular stretch of motorway. And so from then on, every time I drove under that bride I was prepared. And every time, I braced myself, for the jump.
This bridge was immense, looming out in the gap between two great cliffs that stretched up either side of the six lane road. The great stone arches curved up in their own individual sunrises until the top was just a distant line far above us. As you drew nearer you could see the graffiti tags of young boys brave enough, or stupid enough, to clamber between the concrete walls with just sweaty hands as a safety net.
According to my dad, and therefore local legend, the bridge was notorious for being a favourite place for suicide. The hardened farmers sipping bitter in pubs whispered about those who lost everything and drove up the winding hills to the bridge. From there they would stare down at people in cars like ants, and jump. Everyone withheld their sympathy, noone would come visit if the roads were closed - but in their mind everyone shook their head and thought in a sick sense of awe of how much guts it must have took to look down at a hundred miles of tarmac and sigh and step off...
At that age I had not yet learnt to take my dad's stories with a pinch of salt. As I grew up I never heard of even one more death from that bridge, let alone the hundreds he had mentioned. But something from that story stayed with me. I couldn't shake the idea that one day someone would jump and I would see them, or worse yet that they'd hit our car. That paralysing fear consumed every thought I had about that particular stretch of motorway. And so from then on, every time I drove under that bride I was prepared. And every time, I braced myself, for the jump.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
legend has it
i keep thinking of trees and what they stand for. and think of roads in circles. dancing round your city lights.
ot takes a lot to let them go but who am i to know when all i remember is when their name pops up, occasionally.
do you know what it feels like to feel so tall and stand up and realise the limit of your height?
i guess that's how Alice feels, only much more severe than originally thought. when you walk with all the grace of the world.
do you know what it feels like to feel a cup is much smaller than it should be, like you're just not acting well enough?
i still miss you though i never ever want to admit that.
oh you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place
ot takes a lot to let them go but who am i to know when all i remember is when their name pops up, occasionally.
do you know what it feels like to feel so tall and stand up and realise the limit of your height?
i guess that's how Alice feels, only much more severe than originally thought. when you walk with all the grace of the world.
do you know what it feels like to feel a cup is much smaller than it should be, like you're just not acting well enough?
i still miss you though i never ever want to admit that.
oh you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place
if all our lives are but a dream
I keep thinking of trees
and what they stand for.
And think of roads in circles
dancing around your sky.
and what they stand for.
And think of roads in circles
dancing around your sky.
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
i don't know what this is
You cooked chilli, I remember because it wouldn't settle and just sat in the pit of my stomach until I went and threw up in the bathroom. We only had Diet Coke in the fridge so I poured myself a glass. You watched crime dramas on TV and complained when I flicked during the adverts, even though you hate adverts and always made fun of them. The time on the computer got to reading 00:17 and you decided it was the perfect time to wash the pots. Then another one of your long rambling goodbyes that seem to end then start back up again, almost immediately. As I drained my glass I saw all the lint and fluff from the carpet sticking to the bottom, trapped by the condensation. It made me sick, like all that dirt could get into my throat and knot together in my stomach. I put down the glass. The light from the lamps didn't seem to reach all four corners and just reflected in the mirror. It was still too hot even with the heating off. I never liked to open the windows because it made the house seem less safe and as I thought that I got scared, and turned the volume up. My skin felt soft and malleable and natural yet faintly sticky, without make up on. I was sweaty with the heat of the whirring laptop and the lack of air and not moving. At 00:31 I shut down and went to bed.
Monday, 23 August 2010
Freya
They said you'd died.
Last Thursday.
Car crash - plain and simple
Among sunny beaches of Costa Rica.
And, I guess noone got it.
Yeah you were dead, but not dead dead.
Not really.
More asleep in tumbles of brown curls.
Messages of sadness and loss poured in.
'Rest In Peace' and 'sleep forever'.
Because sleep is utterly harmless.
Then you were a body.
Body.
The weight behind it like a truck
Struck with startling realisation.
Body with no air, no laughter
No whisper.
No movement, like the deepest ever sleep.
You are just a body now
And they'll bring you back next week.
For Freya
x
Last Thursday.
Car crash - plain and simple
Among sunny beaches of Costa Rica.
And, I guess noone got it.
Yeah you were dead, but not dead dead.
Not really.
More asleep in tumbles of brown curls.
Messages of sadness and loss poured in.
'Rest In Peace' and 'sleep forever'.
Because sleep is utterly harmless.
Then you were a body.
Body.
The weight behind it like a truck
Struck with startling realisation.
Body with no air, no laughter
No whisper.
No movement, like the deepest ever sleep.
You are just a body now
And they'll bring you back next week.
For Freya
x
Saturday, 21 August 2010
the new week
it has been a strange few weeks.
i have no idea what to do with life because i have messed up.
and though it seems fine it's really not, sitting next to the ugly mathematics building at Leeds Uni and wondering what this will all become.
and this is truly the end of all things, moving on and becoming great and learning curves to suit all tastes.
Unity Day - did some work for the Cadaverine Magazine tent, heard some lovely pieces from a girl whose name I didn't catch, she won the best poem prize and one poem in particular was just gorgeous.
I need to plan my life out and decide whether Australia is right for me or not, deep down I know it isn't but I think I need to try it out. No-one else does.
Oh what to do and how to spend my time
i have no idea what to do with life because i have messed up.
and though it seems fine it's really not, sitting next to the ugly mathematics building at Leeds Uni and wondering what this will all become.
and this is truly the end of all things, moving on and becoming great and learning curves to suit all tastes.
Unity Day - did some work for the Cadaverine Magazine tent, heard some lovely pieces from a girl whose name I didn't catch, she won the best poem prize and one poem in particular was just gorgeous.
I need to plan my life out and decide whether Australia is right for me or not, deep down I know it isn't but I think I need to try it out. No-one else does.
Oh what to do and how to spend my time
Monday, 9 August 2010
asking you was just an empty gesture so don't try to find meaning in it.
although you look good in a vest you're just not as imposing anymore.
just more and more shallow and cold.
i am writing a short story about AIDS
it's not the cheeriest subject but it might be.
septum piercing, i look like a bull
but it's tiny which is what i wanted.
this whole 'us against the world' thing is a pile of bullshit because you are not a love story you are infatuated and it's getting old.
so next year remember me.
although you look good in a vest you're just not as imposing anymore.
just more and more shallow and cold.
i am writing a short story about AIDS
it's not the cheeriest subject but it might be.
septum piercing, i look like a bull
but it's tiny which is what i wanted.
this whole 'us against the world' thing is a pile of bullshit because you are not a love story you are infatuated and it's getting old.
so next year remember me.
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
accomodate accomodate
i am scared of people forgetting i am scared of people leaving i am terrified of people
i do not know what will happen tomorrow, next week or in any period of time between now and when i die.
this is not what bothers me.
what bothers me in the complicated intertwining existence of humans and the increasinlgy fragile bonds between social groups.
come together and separate like oil on water.
come together and never stick.
never put your trust in anyone because nothing is as ugly as a honest person, by their very nature.
but then again, can we even trust ourselves? are we any closer to understanding 'i' than we are to 'they'
probably not. of course not.
i saw Inception last week, how many people are now waiting for the pull to wake them up? wake up wake up it's time.
today i saw Toy Story 3 and cried like a baby.
i would have preferred it if they had stayed with andy, they spent the past ten years waiting in a box for andy to open up to them again.
they've travelled to pizza planet, sid's house, al's apartment, toy barn, sunnyside, bonnie's house and always gone back to elm street and in the end it was all for one big goodbye.
was it worth it at all for another smile and five minutes of imagination?
probably to them, to me it seemed far too sad.
i do not know what will happen tomorrow, next week or in any period of time between now and when i die.
this is not what bothers me.
what bothers me in the complicated intertwining existence of humans and the increasinlgy fragile bonds between social groups.
come together and separate like oil on water.
come together and never stick.
never put your trust in anyone because nothing is as ugly as a honest person, by their very nature.
but then again, can we even trust ourselves? are we any closer to understanding 'i' than we are to 'they'
probably not. of course not.
i saw Inception last week, how many people are now waiting for the pull to wake them up? wake up wake up it's time.
today i saw Toy Story 3 and cried like a baby.
i would have preferred it if they had stayed with andy, they spent the past ten years waiting in a box for andy to open up to them again.
they've travelled to pizza planet, sid's house, al's apartment, toy barn, sunnyside, bonnie's house and always gone back to elm street and in the end it was all for one big goodbye.
was it worth it at all for another smile and five minutes of imagination?
probably to them, to me it seemed far too sad.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
remission
sunday was surprisingly alright
i managed to read my stuff without wetting myself or throwing up so all in all a good job.
today i got £500 from my mother for my birthday
it's all getting saved for sensible things like rent next year.
boo i want to be nice things and splurge
going london on the 18th for birthday treat
first class train, five star hotel - both free
going to the tate, some PR meeting thing, Harrods and the markets
can't wait to be 18 at long bloody last
though kind of feeling like it will end up beingf awful because some people won't care
and can't really sort anything out cause everyone is fighting.
screw it i'm just going to pick up presents and go drinking on my own.
come on australian application, be finished
'and all the lovers with no time for me'
i managed to read my stuff without wetting myself or throwing up so all in all a good job.
today i got £500 from my mother for my birthday
it's all getting saved for sensible things like rent next year.
boo i want to be nice things and splurge
going london on the 18th for birthday treat
first class train, five star hotel - both free
going to the tate, some PR meeting thing, Harrods and the markets
can't wait to be 18 at long bloody last
though kind of feeling like it will end up beingf awful because some people won't care
and can't really sort anything out cause everyone is fighting.
screw it i'm just going to pick up presents and go drinking on my own.
come on australian application, be finished
'and all the lovers with no time for me'
Monday, 12 July 2010
not always, just life
Whilst you are reading this
someone collects a pension, child support.
Someone queues for greasy McDonalds,
a heart attack in the hospital bed.
A teen takes their first sip
of syrupy, sugar alcopop, an old man
raises a glass and drinks whiskey
to fallen comrades. Baby drinks milk
from a sippy cup.
Every second, mothers try to pursuade
young ones to eat their greens, mothers
try to pursuade their daughters to eat
anything.
A man thrusts glass in another's face,
a caterpillar escapes from a cocoon and
flutters on stained glass wings,
a believer kneels to pray.
In that split second just then, dogs
chase after the hare, frantic businessmen
chase buses. Red pens trace lines,
lines across a mirror face. People fall,
get up, babies and grown men learn to walk.
Nurses inject morphine, people inject morphine,
needles pierce purple veins for every condition.
The grip of a newborn wrapped around dad's finger
slack hand of a grandma surrounded my family.
Fingertips press on computer keys, violin strings
the lips of lovers. Intellectuals read 'The Cherry Orchard'
blossoms gather in piles on street corners,
Chinatown smells of seaweed and spicy soup.
Life is always going on, regardless of you.
i am nowhere near as good as brian bartlett
but this is my attempt at brian bartlett.
one day i will be a good writer
the kind that people talk about at art galleries and buy my books and get sad that i'm wasting my life living in myself and drinking
occasionally i'll come out and give interviews and look blue
and people will rave and it won't be as good as they say but it will be good.
suggestions/alterations/improvements welcome.
someone collects a pension, child support.
Someone queues for greasy McDonalds,
a heart attack in the hospital bed.
A teen takes their first sip
of syrupy, sugar alcopop, an old man
raises a glass and drinks whiskey
to fallen comrades. Baby drinks milk
from a sippy cup.
Every second, mothers try to pursuade
young ones to eat their greens, mothers
try to pursuade their daughters to eat
anything.
A man thrusts glass in another's face,
a caterpillar escapes from a cocoon and
flutters on stained glass wings,
a believer kneels to pray.
In that split second just then, dogs
chase after the hare, frantic businessmen
chase buses. Red pens trace lines,
lines across a mirror face. People fall,
get up, babies and grown men learn to walk.
Nurses inject morphine, people inject morphine,
needles pierce purple veins for every condition.
The grip of a newborn wrapped around dad's finger
slack hand of a grandma surrounded my family.
Fingertips press on computer keys, violin strings
the lips of lovers. Intellectuals read 'The Cherry Orchard'
blossoms gather in piles on street corners,
Chinatown smells of seaweed and spicy soup.
Life is always going on, regardless of you.
i am nowhere near as good as brian bartlett
but this is my attempt at brian bartlett.
one day i will be a good writer
the kind that people talk about at art galleries and buy my books and get sad that i'm wasting my life living in myself and drinking
occasionally i'll come out and give interviews and look blue
and people will rave and it won't be as good as they say but it will be good.
suggestions/alterations/improvements welcome.
medusa
i feel beautiful and sad and stunning and completely unloved.
as if running after the hare and every step makes it harder to keep up
and the other dogs are disappearing over the hillside.
my hand is bruised and bleeding and swollen and i can't write
if i can't write i can't live.
thus fulfilling the criteria as given by rainer maria rilke
in my dreams i can only run like an animal. on two legs it feels like running through treacle but on all fours i'm like a big cat and streak across land faster than light.
what that means i don't know
read the poem 'always' by brian bartlett
this week i am supposed to write a poem inspired by that one by about west leeds
i'll post it up soon, it's about caterpillars and pensions and mcdonalds.
the mentor at the residency gives us good things to read: etgar keret, rilke, martin stannard.
as if running after the hare and every step makes it harder to keep up
and the other dogs are disappearing over the hillside.
my hand is bruised and bleeding and swollen and i can't write
if i can't write i can't live.
thus fulfilling the criteria as given by rainer maria rilke
in my dreams i can only run like an animal. on two legs it feels like running through treacle but on all fours i'm like a big cat and streak across land faster than light.
what that means i don't know
read the poem 'always' by brian bartlett
this week i am supposed to write a poem inspired by that one by about west leeds
i'll post it up soon, it's about caterpillars and pensions and mcdonalds.
the mentor at the residency gives us good things to read: etgar keret, rilke, martin stannard.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
road to hell
ah we're all so anonymous
i wouldn't want you reading this, anyone so cover the tracks
last night i freaked out
and got lost in heaton chapel, but only for five minutes
then i remembered the way and found a bus stop.
people never turn out like you want them to be
it's shuffling and ring of fire card games with strong measurements of alcohol
then someone stole the other pill and we turned charlotte's room upside down
now i need to write properly
without getting distracted by beartato at www.nedroid.com
i wouldn't want you reading this, anyone so cover the tracks
last night i freaked out
and got lost in heaton chapel, but only for five minutes
then i remembered the way and found a bus stop.
people never turn out like you want them to be
it's shuffling and ring of fire card games with strong measurements of alcohol
then someone stole the other pill and we turned charlotte's room upside down
now i need to write properly
without getting distracted by beartato at www.nedroid.com
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
you say you're cynical, you got nothing on me
you want 'me in general' with no specific details or mention of what exactly you want about 'me'.
by 'me in general' you imply you would put up with the times when i eat everything in the fridge then order take-out, when i forget my card and you have to pay for everything, when i don't believe anything you say to me, when i spend the last of the money of coca cola, when i cheat on you and don't feel guilty, when i'm emotionally distant, when i'm clingy and all other states in between.
and you don't want that.
i'm roughly ten years too young to have watched sex and the city in its heyday but watching the second movie last night proves it's exactly the same situation.
you want 'me in general' with no specific details or mention of what exactly you want about 'me'.
by 'me in general' you imply you would put up with the times when i eat everything in the fridge then order take-out, when i forget my card and you have to pay for everything, when i don't believe anything you say to me, when i spend the last of the money of coca cola, when i cheat on you and don't feel guilty, when i'm emotionally distant, when i'm clingy and all other states in between.
and you don't want that.
i'm roughly ten years too young to have watched sex and the city in its heyday but watching the second movie last night proves it's exactly the same situation.
Monday, 8 March 2010
yeah
over the last post.
she's bouncing off the walls already, can't get back home quick enough.
and they keep saying 'take more time off'
if only that were a viable option it would be great.
i'd do the work i just don't want to go in, that would also be great.
and i'm going a little bit crazier
between wanting to get back into the swing of it all
or to rest and put the weight back on and rot away.
getmeoutgetmeoutgetmeout
give up, swallow, sleep. repeat.
she's bouncing off the walls already, can't get back home quick enough.
and they keep saying 'take more time off'
if only that were a viable option it would be great.
i'd do the work i just don't want to go in, that would also be great.
and i'm going a little bit crazier
between wanting to get back into the swing of it all
or to rest and put the weight back on and rot away.
getmeoutgetmeoutgetmeout
give up, swallow, sleep. repeat.
Monday, 1 March 2010
stupid
yeah it's okay to have semi-naked women all over their adverts as long as they don't ban people with prosthetic limbs from working there.
it's that sort of stupid attitude that puts us a step back.
yes, american apparel pick people on how they look. they judge them. so do a+f so does every place that makes clothes aimed at white hipsters.
i am very annoyed because arguing like you is like swimming into a dam repeatedly
it's that sort of stupid attitude that puts us a step back.
yes, american apparel pick people on how they look. they judge them. so do a+f so does every place that makes clothes aimed at white hipsters.
i am very annoyed because arguing like you is like swimming into a dam repeatedly
Sunday, 21 February 2010
social situations
social conventions when someone shouts your name and hugs you and you can't remember who they are?
last night was good, minus the near arrest
though trof is far too overpriced for mixers
it's odd what a difference glasses and hair make to a person.
but it was good to get out with the old crowd and be fairly sober and hug and have fun.
instead of sat in the same place with people i don't really like for hours just drinking.
last night was good, minus the near arrest
though trof is far too overpriced for mixers
it's odd what a difference glasses and hair make to a person.
but it was good to get out with the old crowd and be fairly sober and hug and have fun.
instead of sat in the same place with people i don't really like for hours just drinking.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
the
most perfect song.
yeah i could be alright and go on with life like before
but i'm not
so i sit around and drink kenco coffee and stare at the wall and exercise, occasionally
then go out and find someone else who's not you.
because anyone else will do.
but, noone else will do.
because noone else is you.
yeah i could be alright and go on with life like before
but i'm not
so i sit around and drink kenco coffee and stare at the wall and exercise, occasionally
then go out and find someone else who's not you.
because anyone else will do.
but, noone else will do.
because noone else is you.
r e v e n g e
would be quite easy.
send her the emails.
tell her about the brown quilt.
tell her it was more than a kiss.
so why don't i?
because then he'd be upset.
and i still care.
goddamn conscience
send her the emails.
tell her about the brown quilt.
tell her it was more than a kiss.
so why don't i?
because then he'd be upset.
and i still care.
goddamn conscience
Wednesday, 17 February 2010
the truth is you'll be okay anyway
what i have consumed today:
not a lot
what i consumed yesterday:
less
and the day before...?
i see a pattern emerging.
my new christmas coat fits at last.
it's the one good thing he did for me, getting me to fit that fucking coat.
and it's a nice topshop coat so it's almost, almost worth the heartache.
'bite me'.
the two words that made this a little bit easier. because he has something to go back to, someone to go back to. and he's not screaming silently to himself because the second girl to ever make him cry left him for their ex.
camilla is sad
i know this because i check her blog every day.
camilla, don't be sad because you are lovely and i love you.
not a lot
what i consumed yesterday:
less
and the day before...?
i see a pattern emerging.
my new christmas coat fits at last.
it's the one good thing he did for me, getting me to fit that fucking coat.
and it's a nice topshop coat so it's almost, almost worth the heartache.
'bite me'.
the two words that made this a little bit easier. because he has something to go back to, someone to go back to. and he's not screaming silently to himself because the second girl to ever make him cry left him for their ex.
camilla is sad
i know this because i check her blog every day.
camilla, don't be sad because you are lovely and i love you.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
remember that time
can i get another dose of euphoria?
because for a short while i felt so happy
and another line solved the down after.
but now i have a headache and threw up and it's cold
and the low is back again.
oh well, another bag tomorrow
because for a short while i felt so happy
and another line solved the down after.
but now i have a headache and threw up and it's cold
and the low is back again.
oh well, another bag tomorrow
Sunday, 7 February 2010
fuck
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
my chest hurts real bad right now and i was having an incredible night until i saw that but ive got alcohol and tissues and a bad cold and now i can cry in peace cause now he wont try and ow fuck this hurts
my chest hurts real bad right now and i was having an incredible night until i saw that but ive got alcohol and tissues and a bad cold and now i can cry in peace cause now he wont try and ow fuck this hurts
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