Tuesday, 31 March 2009

On days like these....

Never get up from under the duvet, shut the curtains, put your favourite Mazzy Star album on, have numerous cups of tea and a long hot bath.

And then pray that it will soon be over.

Raw realisations and emotions HURT.

I'm trying to deal with everything so differently to how I used to but sometimes the old, terrified me creeps back in. I always boast that words are my solace but today reminded me that when I most need them they desert me. Stranded with no way out. The more I try and explain the more confused I get. I've always respected language and words but on days like this, it feels like they are jeopardising me. They turn into weapons and each letter is so loaded, explosive and hostile and the more I turn to them to diffuse a situation, the more uncontrollable they are.

Goodnight and I really hope I wake up to a good morrow. Everyone around me at the moment is really stressed out, upset, ill and I am exactly the same. It really is tough times at the moment. It is during times like these that dreaming is the only way out.

Monday, 30 March 2009


One day we will be bound together and walk together under the cherry blossoms
But perhaps one day you will wake up and realise that I am me
Then the next day I will be back here alone
Crying into a broken chain
Don't be scared
Don't question me
I am equally scared of you
But I just don't show it
My chains are too strong
They won't let go so easily
I am so sorry for being me
I am so sorry for letting you in

I am not on my guard
These legs don't remain closed just because it is you
I can't open them and my mind at the same time
For others can do both
But I can't
Must I choose between the physical taste of your sweating flesh
Or the burning curiosities of our mindful sighs
She is too nice to fuck some say
But others say she is just a fuck
I believe I am both
I can be both
For that one person
For the one person I have not yet been with
One day
We will touch
But if we can't
Do we have to walk away?

Monday, 23 March 2009

Surreal Life

Today I watched The Horrors play at Rich Mix. I missed the whole buzz with them first time round and only really heard them when Faris came to my night a couple years ago and we became friends. I saw Chris there too and we hung out, hadn't seen him since NME awards. I still find it an odd friendship as we get on so well but I've idolised him for over a decade and used to either hide from him or break out in cold sweats everytime Dario tried to introduce us in previous years. It felt weird seeing them perform Sheena Is A Parasite whilst standing next to him. A little bit surreal.

I had a fun evening however I feel like a sham. I go to these places with literally £1.80 in my pocket and watch everyone swoon around in designer clothes and guzzling down drinks at £5 a pop. I have to try and blag a drink without obviously blagging. I don't feel like I should be here. I really don't feel like I belong here. I have to smile sweetly and be polite when I'm introduced and nod when people ooh and ahh over us being the next big thing (just in Shoreditch of course) yet no one knew about the panic attack I had on the way to the venue and the fact that I hid in the toilets for 20 minutes when I first got there. How do these shiny happy people do it?

Saturday, 21 March 2009

Supermarket's (Missing) Sweep

I came home today, on a Mother's Day visit, only to find I was home in time to help my dad with the weekly shop. Oh the joys.

I dread helping my parents with this. Not because I'm a lazy c*nt who only gets forced into doing my own weekly shop when I have run out of absolutely everything and begin eyeing up my flatmates' food and promising them in my head that whatever I take I shall replace immediately...no sir. I detest helping out the folks because I used to work at the local supermarket and my experiences there still terrify me.

Correction: it is the people who still work there that terrify me. I used to be a Pharmacy Assistant and it was my first ever job. I hated every minute of it. It was the first time that I was ever bullied at work and for some reason, that went on to be a common theme with all the jobs I've had and plus it was so soul destroying serving the general public of St Albans who are even moodier c*nts than me. God, retail seriously is one of the worst professions. Ever.

We start off in the fruit and veg section. I immediately spot a guy who was working there even before I was and whose sister I befriended when she used to work on the check-out. He is the most miserable, short, grumpy and muscly man I have ever met. A really weird combo, I know. I've seen him around for almost a decade but he still gives me the same 'f*ck off' stare everytime his piercing, black eyes look my way. I used to get really angry about this but then I realised today that I would give out exactly the same look if I was laying out 2lbs of bananas everyday for my entire life and rearranging the courgettes everytime a grubby fingered old man literally fingered them. That would drive anyone bananas.

Off we go in search of some fresh bread. Ah yes there he is. The Italian baker whose name has surpassed me dusting flour off his apron. Jesus, he's worked here for at least a century too. Plus he looks like Postman Pat. Argh I need to get out of this place NOW!!

I remember when I used to be standing on the Pharmacy counter doing the late shift on a Saturday (3-10pm, bloody awful) and the only thing that would be of some mild entertainment was when the trolley boys would pick on the cleaner and hide her stuff in random obscure parts of the building e.g. bucket down fire escape and mop in the staff canteen. Ok that might sound harsh but you've never met the cleaner. She was some godforsaken 'woman' (gender never really distinguished) in her 50s who looked like she'd eaten a toad and it in turn had become her face. She was a mean, psychotic, lump of a person whose name again, I can't remember. Actually I do remember it. We all used to call her Murderer.

She was nowhere to be seen today. I had a good look for her considering my dad took about two hours to buy 20 items.

Murderer, where are you? I hope you're ok. I missed you today.

Saturday, 14 March 2009