When our mouths are filled with uninvited tongues of others...

Friends Only & Stuff.

Wed, 04 Oct 2006 14:40:51 GMT

This journal is mostly friends only.
I'm sure everybody is just dying to read, so if you want to be added - just leave a comment.

Merci.

No Sex & No Sleep

Tue, 26 Sep 2006 08:19:29 GMT

I don't have much in the way of recommendation, but I would just like to say that if you are a gym go-er, then Tapes 'n Tapes 'The Loon' is a perfect album to listen to.
I was on the treadmill for a solid 45 minutes last night, and that album is just genius from start to finish. It really, really is.

That is all.

Portland

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 14:31:43 GMT

I found this on Craigslist today:

"I am looking for a seasoned grafitti artist who can do a small scale mural on my scooter. I perfer raw, directional work, fusing old school style with futuristic/new designs. I want a dark, deep loking octopus as the centerpiece
with maybe a city scape style background with arrows a lots of detail in your own style. It will probably have to be done with paint pens since it is sheet metal and only 2x3 ft. Ameturs need not apply. I am a jeweler and can offer gemstones, non/typical gold and silver jewelry and money DOE."

Who the fuck pays with jewels? I'm going to start paying people with crude oil and diamonds.

Five Knuckle Shufflers

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 08:35:14 GMT

On Sunday evenings, Andy & I meet up with some friends and go to our (not so) local pub, The Windmill for a pub quiz.

Last week, we came in 6th! Last night, we came in 1st! Between the 5 of us, we won £15, so we each got £3. Not a lot by any means, but we felt pretty special. The questions just got progessively harder and harder. By the third round, they were asking questions about the elements, and with those five elements, we had to find a place name, which we got, but I cant believe I actually remembered that Potassium was a K! I havent taken chemistry, nor thought about it, since I was 15.

We won by a landslide and we're pretty bad ass.

Refer To Typewriter Entry

Sun, 24 Sep 2006 09:16:45 GMT

Deeply asleep, I was awaken by my Husband at 1:30am to come to the livingroom
because there was a 30 minute Jeff Tweedy solo performance on TV.
Then, as he kissed me goodnight for a second time, he said:
'Now you can fall asleep singing California Stars..'.

That's love pt deux.

/

We have a cat.

We don't have a cat, but one keeps coming in through our lounge window
and just walks around the flat and sits on the sofa and licks its paws.
His feet looks like little white socks, and he's sweet.

Last night, while Andy was taking a bath, the cat jumped in while I was scanning photos,
and after watching him for a while exploring the area, I picked him up and he sat in my lap
while I continued to resize and crop.

After about an hour, I took him out through the front door.

He'll be back.

/

Go
HERE.

I put up 19 new photos from a walk that we took along the resevoir in the country.
We tend to go there on Sundays, because as strange as it may sound, it gives the both of us inner peace. It doesnt feel like youre in England. The trees, the sounds, the air feels like youre somewhere in middle Colorado.

Spanish Makes Me Hot

Fri, 22 Sep 2006 10:19:46 GMT

This weekend, A & I are watching a box set of Pedro Almodóvar films (Talk To Her, Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down, Live Flesh (which I just today realized I saw in the cinema when it was released years ago), Bad Education, All About My Mother).

His films are glorious and I am desperately looking forward to watching every single one of them! I think I have decided that Spanish films are my favorite, with French being a close second. I work with a man who comes from a town close to Paris, and we often have chats about how pretentious French films can be...which is very, but they can also be really really beautiful. I think that European films, as a whole, almost have their own genre, if you will. Very different from British and American cinema, with the colours, stories, etc.

My friends & I do 'movie night' once a month, and even though the last one was dedicated to Eddie Murphey, we do like to think that we are just as cultured as anybody else. If youve got any documentaries to suggest, please do, as the next night will be dedicated to them.

I am such an art fag, it's not even funny!

E.D!

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 15:00:45 GMT

Oh my god!
We're starting an Extreme Dodgeball League within my company!
My team is called the Bayside Tigers, a'la Saved By The Bell, and we're going to get the uniform they wore.
I'm way too excited, and I just can't hide it.
(remember the Jesse breakdown episode? Yeah.)

Disease and Me

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 06:01:43 GMT

My throat has become a giant edge of concrete.
I have no cure, and no clue.
I can only drink so many cups of chamomile, honey, and vanilla tea
before my urine starts to stink of it.

You wanted to know this!

Pomade & Combs

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 10:02:07 GMT

Sometimes, he smells exactly like my grandfather did
and I am 7 years old again.
I find myself staring at his fingers, questioning their existence, wondering what they do when they are not undoing me.

Wrong With Me

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 09:56:49 GMT

The interview went really, really well
& I am sick and not sleeping again.

W.P.T.

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:47:14 GMT

Today, I have an interview for a promotion within my company.
It is two hours long, and I bought a tailored suit.

This will be the first time for both.

Wish me luck.

Sticky

Mon, 18 Sep 2006 08:54:16 GMT

I.
This morning, I am drinking tea, trying to rid myself of the embarassment of feeling.
All of this feeling!
Brimming over the top with my very own self doubt is something I never look forward to,
and I'm beginning to think that nothing ever breaks,
nothing ever shatters the sky,
nothing ever spills over and down the sides,
NOTHING EVER BREAKS!
Except the weak English sun and my heart.

II.
I do not have the solution.
The skills.
The capacity.

Saturated Sigh

Mon, 18 Sep 2006 05:58:25 GMT

It is all around the room,
black coats and beating hearts
waiting for the phone to ring,
to tell us that we were wrong.

So I stand still in the hallway
hands slightly through the door
pulling through any available light.

There is nothing like running through the walls,
that, or climbing up them!

In an instant, I forget what I am ever doing
and pretend that the normality has settled itself back inbetween my shoulder blades
and my body is properly held up for the first time,
because it means I am growing stronger,
more confidant,
and I am finally able.

That's Love Right There

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 15:33:40 GMT

Some men buy their ladies flowers,
others jewelry..

my man buys me a typewriter with a new ribbon!

In The Morning

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 10:09:51 GMT

Jesus Christ-
Let's start with saying that nobody of my size should ever drink as much as I did last night.
I think I had three bottles of wine. Possibly even a bit more.

Michael and I had quite possibly the coolest dance off youve ever seen.
None of this Britney & Justin shit, either.
This was like Run DMC meets Hammer style dance off, and it was 'off the chain' as the kids say.
I think a little pee even came out, I laughed so hard.

.

& for the first time since I've lived in England, I met a guy who loves Built To Spill! Hes the singer in my friends band, but Ive never actually spoken to him. That guy just became my new musical hero, too.

Whatever, I feel like death, and I'm going to go lay beside Andy and try to get rid of this train that is pulsating inside of my skull.

The Morning Half-Life Blues

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 15:23:07 GMT

Girls buck the wind in the grooves toward work
in fuzzy coats promised to be warm as fur.
The shop windows snicker
flashing them hurrying over dresses they cannot afford:
you are not pretty enough, not pretty enough.

Blown with yesterday’s papers through the boiled coffee morning
we dream of the stop on the subway without a name,
the door in the heart of the grove of skyscrapers,
that garden where we nestle to the teats of a furry world,
lie in mounds of peony eating grapes,
and need barter ourselves for nothing.
not by the hour, not by the pound, not by the skinful,
that party to which no one will give or sell us the key
though we have all thought briefly we found it
drunk or in bed.

Black girls with thin legs and high necks stalking like herons,
plump girls with blue legs and green eyelids and
strawberry breasts,
swept off to be frozen in fluorescent cubes,
the vacuum of your jobs sucks your brains dry
and fills you with the ooze of melted comics.
Living is later. This is your rented death.
You grasp at hard commodities and vague lusts
to make up, to pay for each day
which opens like a can and is empty, and then another,
afternoons like dinosaur eggs stuffed with glue.

Girls of the dirty morning, ticketed and spent,
you will be less at forty than at twenty.
Your living is a waste product of somebody’s mill.
I would fix you like buds to a city where people work
to make and do things necessary and good,
where work is real as bread and babies and trees in parks
where we would all blossom slowly and ripen to sound fruit.

-Marge Piercy

This has always really inspired me & today, it suits me just fine.

Sunday.

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 08:38:51 GMT

Yesterday, we went out for a walk along the resevoir, and I used up the last roll of b/w film that I have.
They had better come out, because the last one, I spent £9 on one roll of singles, and it took a week to process because they had to send it off. None of them turned out. My lens is tooooo slow to take proper photos of gigs - especially hardcore ones, where the boys move around too much to catch!

In other news:
I dropped the debit card down the car door, beneath the window. Andy had to take the panel off of the passenger side door, and wiggle his hand in to get it. I really am an idiot.

Also:
We have been watching a lot of 'The Planets', which is a fascinating show about .. the planets! I can tell you loads about Titan, one of Saturn's moons, and I can also tell you loads about Saturn's rings, and Mars, and the Sun, and Earth, and other such things. Its pretty great, and I wish I worked for NASA.
My brother in law works for ESA, the British version of NASA, who also of course, work with NASA. He actually builds things that go on satellites that orbit around in the void.

And-
Stuff.

Old Bedroom

Sun, 10 Sep 2006 10:37:27 GMT

Forever.

Countries are for Loving

Sun, 10 Sep 2006 09:56:47 GMT

Does it make me old that I 'prepare food' for when we have people around our flat for drinks?
And, since when did I stop drinking spirits and beer?
I only ever drink red wine these days.

(And, we do that quite a lot.)

.

Currently, our friends Giv & Lucy are in Paris.
Next week, our friends Trevor and Cassie are going to France & then Amsterdam.
Ida is going to Paris for a long weekend next month --
everybody we know, is fucking off to France!

Andy & I seriously need to have a holiday.
Because, going to America only half-way counts!

Wearing Funny Clothes

Sat, 09 Sep 2006 19:10:32 GMT

Though I have pondered this question many a time,
I still have to ask - again -

What happened to Stuart Murdoch?

Songs about frogs, Cuckoo's?
I'm just curious.

I have, however, found a small space in my heart for 'Dear Catastrophe Waitress'..
but it is a very, very small space.

Bless you Stuart, for all of the songs you wrote before....
Bless you.

While You Sleep

Fri, 08 Sep 2006 06:10:38 GMT

With me, it doesnt happen often,
but when it does, it shakes me up for the rest of the day.

I had another dream last night that sent me into a wild state of panic,
and my breathing is what woke me up.
I was trembling, on the verge of losing it completely (the dream me)
and when I woke, there he was beside me, breathing peacefully, and quietly,
as if he had never been anywhere else.

Sometimes, I have no answers for this -only his soft scent and sleeping smile.

Groin Fiddle

Thu, 07 Sep 2006 10:40:27 GMT

This is Michael-
air guitaring.

Apparently there are competitions for this sort of thing?

Phases and Parts (an untraditional mind fuck)

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 15:14:04 GMT

Part one.
I'm not entirely sure how I feel at the moment -
but it is strange, and I am indifferent to this feelings' contents.

I wonder just how long I have been in this completely uninspired phase.
I call it a phase because I have no other word to identify it with. Its been going on a while,
it seems that it doesnt want to leave--
what else is it?

Have I just lost that side of me that wants to create things? Matt told me about this book he's been reading-the name in which I forget-about a character who was a poet. Once. And isnt anymore. He's stopped writing, but still tells everybody that he is a poet. Then he realizes, years later, that his old poems lack any importance and promise, and his new poems lack the same. And, then there is some profound quote that pretty much sums it all up -- but of course, I forget this as well.

Everything that is profound, and promising, and potent, and something-extra-ordinary, I just forget now. My mind is holding everything captive, and I just cant seem to shake it anymore. I also cant cope.

I am either turning into my father, and becoming a slow, sad drunk .. or I am just delusional, and none of this actually matters at all.

I expend so much energy on thinking about this very thing -- and nothing ever comes of it. I keep coming to the same, the same, the same conclusions over & over again. So! What of it?

Exactly.

Part two.
Who are you? Who are you exactly? I am tired, and I am bored of people that used to be a part of my life. I am sure that this makes me a terrible, terrible person. It undoubtedly makes me a bad person. But I have moved, and I am trying to forget.

It is tempting to keep ties with strange faces and strange people, and I am a complete contradiction to myself day in and day out. I mourn the loss of people who used to be involved in my life, in the weavings of my day-to-day, but I kick them out, as well.

The older I grow, the more fucked up I become.

Part three.
To snap myself out of this phase, I think I should start to pretend that I have nearly died, that I have woken up from a coma, in a hospital bed, covered in blood, after a terrible car crash, and I have been born into this world again, waking from death. Maybe that could be 'the light at the end', for me. If I think of myself as recovering from death, I will find new things to be excited about, I will start to feel things differently, and see things more vividly.
The things I run my fingers along will feel different to me, and I can appreciate its textures and fine lines. The faces I see more beautiful than I remember.

From now on, I have just waken up from my death.
And this is the new beginning of Me.

In Death, I Will Recover

Mon, 04 Sep 2006 14:23:07 GMT

I wanted to learn.

I wanted to read your books
listen to your records
watch your films
wash with your soap
comb my hair with your brush
speak and hear your voice
fuck the same girls as you.

I wanted to learn
so that I could know you better,
marry myself to you completely.

Lift Yourself

Mon, 04 Sep 2006 14:19:57 GMT

I.
How do you make your body bend like that?
Fervent
Sheepish
Mourning

II.
I want to become a part of your blood
so that I can swim throughout you
and know the way your muscles and heart contract

because I am
beating
beating
b e a t i n g

for you.