finally a man with whom i am more obsessed than he with me? surely not. still not sure if that's a good thing or not...
i'm incredibly inebriated. it will look as though i'm not when my typing is flawless but this is because i keep erasing and retyping til i get it right. due to popular demand i am changing my picture back. evidently i am too ugly to live. that and clare cant see it and it was primarily for her benefit. curses. i was not on the underground for that shot, i had a poster stolen from the underground behind me. but it doesn't look like me. especially with my new haircut which prompted a man at a market stand to tell me i look like i should speak in subtitles. i like that! at least he appreciates me. i also ran into a girl who attended college with me with whom i was never really well acquainted but who insisted i must stay at her flat when i am next really drunk. i assume she meant other than today, i have not would up at hers this evening.
i feel as though i'm in a bubble floating above the sharp awkward shards of metal that will spear me if i concentrate too much and let the bubble burst. i'm like the little girl with the chocolate curl in the extremist comparison; when i'm happy i'm very very happy and when i'm not i can't bear breathing.
i think i need a change of scene, but i'm also aware that i rely too heavily on variety the spice of life to solve my sadness. there is nothing really that makes me sad, but i sometimes just think oh hey look i could just not exist, how much less boring that would be! because i wouldn't even notice how boring it was!
there was this really cool thing where i saw a mouse on the tracks on the underground then i looked more carefully and there were LOADS and it was great so i stood staring. soon everyone on the platform was watching them and i felt like such a trend setter.
i had a cool time with my amazing friend clare tonight at a gig at the underworld, this band called rocking horse fucking rocked. predictably. thanks clare for making me go to that! but call me when you can i need a boost of joy. or a hand grenade.
i'm incredibly inebriated. it will look as though i'm not when my typing is flawless but this is because i keep erasing and retyping til i get it right. due to popular demand i am changing my picture back. evidently i am too ugly to live. that and clare cant see it and it was primarily for her benefit. curses. i was not on the underground for that shot, i had a poster stolen from the underground behind me. but it doesn't look like me. especially with my new haircut which prompted a man at a market stand to tell me i look like i should speak in subtitles. i like that! at least he appreciates me. i also ran into a girl who attended college with me with whom i was never really well acquainted but who insisted i must stay at her flat when i am next really drunk. i assume she meant other than today, i have not would up at hers this evening.
i feel as though i'm in a bubble floating above the sharp awkward shards of metal that will spear me if i concentrate too much and let the bubble burst. i'm like the little girl with the chocolate curl in the extremist comparison; when i'm happy i'm very very happy and when i'm not i can't bear breathing.
i think i need a change of scene, but i'm also aware that i rely too heavily on variety the spice of life to solve my sadness. there is nothing really that makes me sad, but i sometimes just think oh hey look i could just not exist, how much less boring that would be! because i wouldn't even notice how boring it was!
there was this really cool thing where i saw a mouse on the tracks on the underground then i looked more carefully and there were LOADS and it was great so i stood staring. soon everyone on the platform was watching them and i felt like such a trend setter.
i had a cool time with my amazing friend clare tonight at a gig at the underworld, this band called rocking horse fucking rocked. predictably. thanks clare for making me go to that! but call me when you can i need a boost of joy. or a hand grenade.
cockroach
by c bukowski
the cockroach crouched
against the tile
while i was pissing and as
I turned my head
he hauled his butt
into a crack.
I got the can and sprayed
and sparyed and sprayed
and finally the roach came out
and gave me a very dirty look.
then he fell down into
the bathtub and I watched
him dying
with a subtle pleasure
because I pay the rent
and he didn't.
I picked him up with
some greenblue toilet
paper and flushed him
away. that's all there
was to that, except
around hollywood and
western we have to
keep doing it.
they say some day that
tribe is going to
inherit the earth
but we're going to
make them wait a
few months...
bah!