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Keeping it all in.

Thu, 29 May 2008 19:48:29 +0200

THE PEOPLE I KNOW- The Film Noir Princess

So she is quiet, oh so quiet. But she does speak, telling me this and that about interior design and the parts of her thoughts that she deems safe to be known. The rest is kept in her mind.
We go to lunch together nearly every day and she knows I adore her. We talk and I tell her truthful honest things about my life. She was cagey and timid to begin with but I enjoyed it and played along with my little film noir princess. But then I felt as though we were making progress, felt as though she was opening up to me and that she trusted me as a friend. All was well for a while.
Then 'he said' 'she said' shit happened and I find out she slept with someone we both know on more than one occasion. To analyze my feelings on this I cant be succinct, I must explain thoroughly for my own peace of mind. I wasn't angry because there is really nothing to be angry about, she is entitled (as we all are to keep things private). If anger wasn't the thing bothering me then what the hell was it? Pinpoint fingers on lips and voila! I come up with it. It's because she DIDNT tell me that it bothered me, its purely because there is something pretty big that was going on with her and she decided that I was the person who should know about it. I felt as though this put some kind of confinement (limit if you will) on the level of our friendship 'theres only so far you can go with her...' and that made me feel pushed away. Umming and arhhing 'should I say something?' 'No what would be the point, it would be petty, she has rights to keep things private and how would I look if I were to confront her about this minor detail?' I decided against it because it almost felt intrusive to mention it, almost felt as though I have read her diary, finding out something that someone doesn't want you to know about them is tresspass of a sort isn't it? Even if you purchanced upon it quite innocently, someone told you and you couldn't help it?
She is a strange little cagey creature and although I haven't mentioned it and I am no longer too concerned about it, she perplexes me and maybe thats why I like her.

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The Best Band In The World

Thu, 29 May 2008 19:34:30 +0200

THE BEST BAND IN THE WORLD
This ones for you:
The lighting was crap and the song started slow, a geisha walking gracefully through the aftermath of war. Aptly the drums began to march. Aptly, there were four men on stage playing...with their instruments.
I sat concentrating and immediately I felt something. Something shyly started to surface for a look-see. Eyes fixed on them, one at a time, it just didn't fit. Attitude and dissinterest feigned across their faces. And yet when I closed my eyes it was perfect, when I overted my gaze it was flawless.
In that capsule of time from memory, I glimpsed the succint. That marching drum and that floating intricate guitar played blank canvass to the painting of my thoughts. I swelled fat with feeling, yearned to bust out of myself, longed for it to manifest on the universe. Print itself in some action on this space and time. It didn't, of course it didn't and it never does. When the song is over the ambience that came with it dies.
That slutty red light swept briefly over their faces. The idea of a woman and all she's worth teased across their minds. That was the bottom line. It transcended in that moment and the dissapointment I felt was phenomenal. Betrayed by the world of man once again and why is it I never learn?
They play beautifully, they play like gods...but what about when I'm tired of playing? What about when your tired of the game? Tough shit for you. Tough shit for you in every way because you choose not to play and you soon slip into the background. You decide not to partake in the role your gender dictates and you give up all your power, you become something you never wanted to be. You become wallpaper, unnoticed, just something that hangs drably in the background.
What fucking choice have you got? Choice looses charm when both options are dire, choice looses its hopeful qualities when both options suck as much as each other. So you give in, play the game just for a little attention, a size three foot in that door. Once you're there (you tell yourself) then you can make a difference, once you are there you can make them see.So it's decided, you look over your glasses playfully, you purse your lips carefully and its moderately amusing how your wisdom is completely and utterly wasted on them.
You put yourself out there for them, help them create some of that fire that they want and naturally you end up getting burnt. The fact is that you are never really a part of their team and god help you if you are cooler than any of them because then you have gone too far, then you become a real threat. Its just at that point that they use that one word, that one fucking word that shoots you down. They club together and put it out there suggestively, they don't even have to directly say what they mean, they just have to imply it generally and you realise that they cant see you any other way. To them, all women are just fuck-holes, all women are slags and bitches and nags...to them women satisfy one solitary role and that is to assure them that they too can be cool.
They are undoubtedly the best band in the world, they far exceed any of the other new bands out there...but the point is that the soul that translates itself in any kind of art can be beautiful, can be immortalized, can be the most moving thing that we have ever encountered. The point is that the soul that manifests in any kind of art always preceeds the mortal that created it, far surpasses the boundaries of the artists personality and so very seldom can ever be found in any aspect of the singer, the artist, the writer, the photographer, the pianist, the sculptor or the fool that once sweated blood for it.
They are undoubtedly the best band in the world...but as a woman...as someone who longs for insight...yearns to be surprised just once...prays for a little slice of depth in this shallow ephemeral world...I am left dissapointed.

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The Eleven Year Fuck

Sat, 17 May 2008 13:51:29 +0200

So we met 11 years ago, innocent and unromantic. He whispers 'I'm falling in love with you' so close to my ear it tickles. I close my eyes, cant see the future so good so I think of doorbells but I dont say a word.
Lips on mine and just kissing the Evangelist felt good. Holding out for the cure and I dripped while the kettle boiled. Dripping inside my pants, he could never have known, and so quietly, like you wouldnt believe, I came. Nothing innocent about my Evangelist, like a door to door heroin salesman he keeps me updated and plugged in.
The fuck that has lasted so sweet and good for eleven years is building in strength and ferocity that I fear its all consuming. I cant concentrate or commit to much else and so in that white dress I pant 'I do' and under my breaht 'and i always fucking will'.

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The image we cling to.

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 23:50:32 +0200

I am the one who goes in to work every day yelling for fair trade coffee. I am the one that they try not to talk to. They know everything annoys me and I see how they hush their voices, trying to hide the fact that they are eating meat or drinking nescafe or doing some other thing I am anti.

I am anti. The fact remains that seriously I wonder if they were all veggie and protested against Proctor and Gamble, if I would start wearing fur coats and eating in McDonalds? I cant believe that I would but maybe thats who I am. I am the annoying militant vegetarian that all the other vegans/vegetarians hate because I give them a bad name. I know it, I read vegan with avengance and I know I am not supposed to be militant. It's just that some days I get out of bed having dreamt of ways to be socially unpleasing. How to rub someone up the wrong way or provoke an argument where I remind them that everything they do is worthless and they need to start scrutinizing themselves as I do myself. As a form of annorexia almost, I find new things to starve myself of. I find new joys to cut out and abolish. I am determined, having said that, that I will not become a bastard non smoker now I have quit. But who knows. The grand national cant come and go without me bursting a blood vessell that I didnt rant enough about it!

And I wonder why they dont invite me to the pub, of course they arent going to after I send an email round warning of the beers, wines and spirits that contain animal products or have been tested on animals.

Am I doomed to be that little girl that stands in the corner of the playground with my head on the wall watching the street for my mum to pass by on her way to the shops?

Will I always try so hard to find reasons to not fit in?

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Here and now.

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 23:25:31 +0100

I am not abroad. I am right here. I haven't gone anywhere and am not reporting on the exotic. Would this blog be more meaningful if I was in India commenting on Elephants and market places and the nastinesses of youth hostels?
I will report on what I see from the here and now assuming there is an audience. Always assuming (to 'assume' will make an ass out of u & me).

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This 'here' is the pink kitchen in a nook on the council estate. Who would know my door even existed if they weren't first shown. The 'now' is...well now. Real time, now is like not bed time but long past dinner. Not enough time to meet a friend before bed but enough time to get a blog space and start waffling.
The 'here' really could be anywhere. I dont own it and with the unstable housing market I am kind of glad I dont but when I see my rich friends buying houses with money their parents gave them...well it makes the unstable market 'here' a little bit frustrating. It makes my 'now' feel permanent and a future seem bleak. Do I begrudge it that other peoples parents were more sensible than mine? Probably, if I am honest, can I be honest?
So we establish that the 'here' isn't mine and the 'now' even less so as it slips away everytime I say it. Click fingers in my mind 'now' damn it, I miss! Can I begrudge that time moves on no matter what I do, that it will get more intense as it passes and the years go on? Probably, if I am honest, can I be honest?

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