What is with our obsession over birds

i watched the bird move his head side to side, unclean and jerky. a way a mental person moves theirs. i thought that its bones had been put together wrong. that its make-up was faulty. and i began to wonder if humans were faulty like that too. that we too malfunctioned without a definition or a second thoughts.

planning while hot and sticky...

We discuss taking over the world one descriptive piece at a time. The heat is over powering and the small fan slowly fills her room, that looks lived and loved in. posters and prints dot her wall. I love one print, a black heart shaped spot with the text, which i can’t read, is it mine or her heart up there, charcoal black, pined to her wall. she tells me about some of the projects she has planned for next year. i wanted in to be involved. that’s all i seem to be thinking about now, what i am going to do. there’s no living in the moment, just as soon as i get back i’m to work and away from spending time with myself. There has been too much ‘ideal’ thinking which helps noone, especally my charcoal heart, that keeps on hurting. i want to stop thinking about boys and work and work until they effect me no more.

Why?

It's one of those perfect london days, the sky's blue is the same as my favourite of his shirts and his look is waiting for the moment when everything would make sense and that my mind would be made up. " She said she wasn't sure, but it could be a wind up... she clearly knew her own mind but did she know her own heart, he wondered." But i'm not even sure about any of this. And I constantly correct myself not to kiss him.




Boys will forever drive me wild and climb trees. And sometimes they both happen at the same time.

One day I will no longer write about boys... But until then

12.07.04

Adem

I wash hard between my toes
across my chest
between my legs
along my neck
where you kissed me last night
I want to wash you away
my exquisite sin
and all it's mischief
with all it's hurt
I try to repent my sin
But for all the guilt
and the smell of fresh soap
I can't stop thinking about you.

23.07.06

I found an old journal hiding and collecting dust in my home in London and really not knowing why brought it to H with me this weekend. He was a guy I kept hooking up with for a while but never got together. He was the most incompatible person I could have ever been attracted to. But when he moved closer, kissed me. We both knew that our bodies would fit and work perfectly together. I've never felt anything like that with someone I lusted after. It was purely primal and physical. It felt so sexy. To the coincidence. An introduction to P.

When I was in my early years of secondary school and things were hard. I was awkward but didn't know it, and what's more sad was I didn't know how to change. So my hope was one day 'we'll, the bullies and I' would be too old for this. That other things would be far more important like A levels, university, sex and contraception. Not that I knew what that was at the time. For me that was a finishing line that was in sight, only a few more years. It was the moment one became a prefect. When the girls wore office skirts, suit jackets and pretty shirts. While the boys wore suits, all different shades of navy. They looked so hansom and distinguished. Like young happy men that took his small kids to the swimming pool on Sundays, while mummy could have time off, 'time for herself.' but in hindsight they were still boys, and not even close to becoming a man. But what did I know. Close to nothing. There was one in particular that when he passed in the hallway I would hold my breath in hope that eye contact would touch him and that he would see something special in me that no-one had ever seen. And I would be released from the torment of the other girl. But he never did and nobody ever saw me. And I left school at 16 and never became one of those A level students with their big A4 folders and thick text books. Now we fast forward a couple of years, nine to be exact. And somehow I'm standing in a circle with my great friend k and her friends. And this symbol that never saved me stands next to me. We are introduced and is surprised at his own lack of recollection of me from his school days, "How did I not know you." He hasn't changed a single bit or maybe my memory of him is lost in delusion. With the same naughty smile, that for the first time is aimed at me. And there we were in our little bubble of pure sexual tension that makes it impossible not to touch each other. But it's clever and subtle and I've waited for a long time for a moment like this to happen i almost miss this look that's appeared on his face and before I even have time to totally comprehend what is about to happen to me, our lips meet. But I'm don't move to dance to his and I pull away. Because I'm no longer that girl and he still is 'that boy.' Looking at it with an unbiased view there's chemistry there that neither of us act upon but both enjoy seeing how each other reacts to our move and looks. Back to the connection. I had the same deep to the pit of your stomach feeling as I did with Adem. It's this pure and raw sexual connection, that I have with these totally incompatible men. Our lives would never 'somehow' fit together. WHY?

Our eyes met again last night and there was that look and that smile. I was speaking with a male friend and when he walked right up behind me and passed, he ran his thumb along the small of my back and carried on walking. It sent an electric surge right up my spine and goose pimples dotted my arm. I hope feelings like that will never change as we grow older. But I know they will... But for the moment.

To be...

I think about erasing you for myself, my memory, your lips, my skin. Only to be... better for myself.

Just a phase

We sit at our usual seats at the usual time. talking as we do. He walks in and i try to pay no attention, as does he. 'he's trying so hard not to notice you it becomes so obvious' i like her words, but he is still angry. With all my might i add, i know his issues are mine, how can i be hypocritical and pissed off. i just hope my problem is a youth thing and i'll have sorted it out by the time i'm thirty. and we give each other this look. i know she worries about her guilt, about being too clever, too beautiful, too priviledged. too it all. and in this moment we worry that we're never going to change, that we are now who we are, and will be for the rest of our life. That it will not pass 'casual' with a boy, and that her guilt willl always plague her. and we start laughing, laughing from our stomaches, laughing from all the way in. and we can't stop, and people start to are stare, to catch the joke. But there is no joke and we can't stop, because if we do, in this minute, we will cry. and we really do want to, but there are no more tears left.

where do those unread emails disappear to?

I write to you with a massive prefectly round eggshell yellow moon dancing between the black leaves of my tree just outside my room at my folks house. I seem to have made another small office where i spend most of my hours in. There’s something about a high backed chair, my ibook, books i need to read on the windowsil and my old journals around me that make me never want to leave my room. but i do, i moved from one wooden table to another.

I sat arcoss the beautiful mahogany squared table in a sickeningly new and trendy bar full of people who think they’re cool but not, just a judgement call. i try to explain what i had written in the email that has somehow disappeared to where all unrecieved email end, floated around with atoms and molecules never to be recovered. And of course i can’t articulate myself, as usual. and when i come to the point about it isn’t because i now can’t have him, i want him. she gives me that face. The face you get when your bestfriend thinks your lying. the face that i get off him when he thinks i’m being shit. But i stand up for myself. it’s only later did i realise he could have been mine. i never thought he wanted me to be his. in his oh so formal way, it think his words were. 'i think about you, and being your boyfriend, and it does cause me friction.' yesterday was spent thinking a lot about the man on the hill. but my recovery has been so quick, the quickest to date. and when before i talked about how feelings never seem to fade. maybe they dont, but the time spent pondering and then recovering shortens and shortens until they just no longer matter, that they become fleeting thoughts and disappear with all those unread emails.

when love is possible...

i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry. Is that enough to take the sharpness of your tongue. i hope i hadn't ruined your night, your painting was beautiful.

If there is no way out, the only way out is to give in

The irony of life is more funny then i care to remember. More funny than painful possibly, But only through adaptation, no? So these kind of 'moments' that seem to come more frequently now have scared me; not because of the pain or the consequences that never seem to fade. It's for how little control i have over it all. when i had to turned the painters offer down i was bitter, i cursed at him (not my crush, God) and his world, for ruining my chance. but then something else happened. An invitation to a party held by a tall (oh so tall) brown eyed man. Who had suddenly reappeared again after christmas, sitting diagonally across from me not listening to his colleges staring at me while i played with my paper boat, coy. who was suddenly walking round my private view and asked me if my cheeks were always this red, and had looked, looked right into me as we parted, ‘yes, actually it was uhm interesting.’ Do you know what i mean when THEY-LOOK-RIGHT-THROUGH -YOU. Those are the looks that a girl brought up on old hollywood films lives for. When his friend gave me his address, my heart almost feel out of my mouth. i had a shift that night too. But this time, i called in sick. If i had gone to Sotherby’s, then i would never have gone to the party. There are things in life that were meant to happen, some of them are the smallest events and some last a life time. For me this was my example that my dye has been cast and all i have to do is ...




And i hurt him the truth i had for him to help myself un-nerved him and i'm not sorry. but i couldn't have been more apologetic on the phone He wasn't shouting, but there was so much angry, SO-MUCH-ANGER. There was one thing i wish i hadn't said. But i did and we should see what happens next. Because there's going to be a next...


... 15th June

The text weakend me. Sent " Your prints were really peatiful (private joke.) an ex-friend. " Fucker, i wish he's leave me be.
And always in moments of distress and anxiety i turn to metro's horoscope. It read "You have to assert yourself. Even if it does challange someone elses deeply held beliefs and risks hurting them. You've been hurt enough in your time and it's time for all of this silliness to stop. so assert away.

Blistering brown eyes

So he quietly arrives, which is a surprise, i always feel them coming, like that smell before a storm, of burnt grass and electricity in the air. somehow he's less like the others. Our moments are exquisite and i write, cause i'm scared if i don't i'll lose them.

And because i can't keep hold of anything. There's the standard final page where i wish him the best but with a bitter bite. "Butter fingers." And i promise 'that would be the last page i write on him.' For the longest while i keep my promise, 40 pages. Then something else came, so much later, so out of the blue and oh so beautiful... and then a certain calm. I'm on a train full of stranger refusing to tell her the details on why i'm on one at 9:05am going home to change. But in the process everyone who's listening knows exactly why. And she's laughing. Here we go again.




Tryingnottothink.
I look down, hiding my expression of slight pain
Red faded hearts dot my nickers
and a small red bow stiched at the front
I am his little girl, with my little girl hair cut
that i thought made me look like a boy
Jeff buckley plays out of my sisters stereo
All of a sudden I'm back at your house on the hill
the night of the infamous party
we played jenga, you cheated.
And I kissed you to lilac wine.
You haven't been easy to let go



How dare you sit there with your cappacino and that face. jealousy is ugly! but i'm still glad you reek of it. It's your frustration beginning to show. I see it when you take the piss at every oppotunity, and kiss me slowly in front of my friend and yours and flirt with my girlfriend ridiculasly and especially now you cant talk to me. peter pan, grow up, fall, you would be caught. the irony is i'll never let you know. cause i'm not the one, am I?

Words about 'my old man.'

24.02.06

NO seriously what role are you taking in my life. From the way you talk to the boys i spend time with... all i'm saying is i already have a father that dislikes all my boyfriends. And as for the role of jealous boyfriend, you've mistaken me for your actual long term girlfriend. Your behavior is more than flattering and i do love your taste in music. I think i'm more than satisfied with our little relationship.

15.03.06

E knows i can neither give or receive compliments well and he always laughs, knowing full well i'll never grow out of it. He stood with me at the to of the stairs as we were introduced to all of N friends. I could see pride through his smile. I do think this boy isn't like the rest.

I'm on the wheeled chair in my old mans office. a photograph taken on his 'new' camera appears on the scene and he plainly says beautiful. Usually my compliments are all sexually charged, which makes it easy to dismiss them. I blush again and mumble something stupid. what do you say when someone says you're beautiful, straight from out of the blue. I know our friendship is good for me.

19.04.06

Note: I no longer talk to myself... I talk to my old man... meaning? He's within my subconscious and more important than he'll ever know. He is now my own reason. The conversation 'we' (myself, I and him)

"I told you I wasn't his girlfriend. I don't want to belong"

"Why are you detached from your feelings like that?"

Aren't you too? I want things to be good and easy- for a while. And if I choose to have a boyfriend and be someone's i want it to be for love. But I'm not 'in' and being someone's makes things difficult because you become unnecessarily attached.

20.05.06

I dreamt that he's broken, dying. i hold him in my arms crying, rocking. i know in my real mind i'm so angry with him and (that this dream is beyond symbolic) as i touch his face. all i can feel his pain. Oh my dearest friend. i wish i hadn't been told.

01.06.06

HE looks at me worryingly. "i remember your face" That's all he said. i felt like reassuringly adding. You have no idea what it's like being me. it wasn't my heart, not even close. I wonder if it's even dormant or completely lost. It was my pride, my old man and in my world it heals almost instantly, because there's always another to be lost in..... And there's you.

Just his city

OUR last day, we walk around his city, sat in his cafe and drank his coffee. This was never going to be as simple as we had hoped. Somehow I'm grateful.



There was magic above the odeon, it reminded me of the memory of love, or maybe how i felt when i was younger. it's been such a long time, i wonder if it's still possible.

Through a blue lens

STILL now, I can't tell you what was strange about your trip for Anais ............................................still nothing, almost 6 months on. But the snow we travelled through on the Italian boarder, made me feel like love. Then after finding a place to sleep we decided on an early dinner. Walking along the lake in Montreux my dearest friend and i talked about it all, about everything that was going to happen beyond this point and our future seemed as endless as our youth.



And for 21 minutes the birds flew in this hypnotic cicular way, i felt transfixed, And slowly i started to feel more and more insignificant, that much bigger, unexplained things were at work, I worried a little less.

Letters to a loved one

Love Letters, the sweetest of thoughts between two people. I made a book for a boy, and ironically called it the shortest of stories, little did i know we both wrote 6 pages each. Looking for something else i came across it, and all i wanted to do is start a fresh page and continue our story, but fear overides me again, so i linger with my epiphany. I possibly missed my moment. He was looking to me and i just wasn't ready. x

Oh so much sweeter

IT'S the day after one of those days you knew was coming and the moment it happened, it was as good as it would have been if it were a genuine surprise. And the sun shone for more than 2 seconds, doesn't everything taste that little bit sweeter with the sun.

Strong words

There is nothing worse than to hear true heart-wrenching anger from someone you want so much from. "You have no right to say those things to me, who do you think you are, you're just a child. how can someone so awful make such beautiful scultpures." He wasn't shouting at me, his voice wasn't even raised, It was pure anger, so primal and teeth grinding, It was the most honest he's ever been with me. I've only heard one man talk to me like this, just once before and that was love. BUt that was a long time ago, almost my previous life. I couldn't stop apologising through my smile. He was so shocked that a kid had had the nerve to tell him 'to sort his shit out.' There was love somewhere, mixed up between the lines. more things i can't seem to stop circling over.