December 31, 2009
December 18, 2009
December 01, 2009
November 21, 2009
November 16, 2009
November 08, 2009
October 21, 2009
October 15, 2009
Failure. Spiders. Heights. Words like moist and ointment. Coming down. Death. Sobering up. Insects. Wet hair on dry backs. Hypocrisy. "Yeah but still". Public speaking. Forgetting. Sometimes rain.
October 05, 2009
September 26, 2009
September 18, 2009
I have been unintentionally left home alone for the past week, and while I usually love having the house to myself, this really isn't the time. I need company. Who will come visit me now? During these few uneventful days I have downed excessive amounts of sugarfree Red Bull and charged all the electrical appliances I know I won't be using for a while. I have also been drinking orange juice straight from the carton, which makes me feel like a rebel, but the feeling doesn't last very long.
It's 5:43am and I've just finished watching Incendiary. I read the book three years ago, when I was barely a hexagon-eyed, somewhat gauche speech-bubble-devouring teenager. It was only twelve dollars and the cover art was pretty, but I fell in love with its words two pages later, when Chris Cleave talked about holes and wars and little baby boys. And then the movie came out, and I didn't even know it existed, but when I did I was let down before I could judge it for myself. How could I, really, when they'd removed the biggest characters, gotten rid of the point of the plot, and changed the ending completely?
I clearly didn't know what I was on about, though. The movie may not have her much needed craziness etched into her words but I reckon the storyline breaks your heart a little bit more, but in a softer way. Soft is good. I wasn't disappointed, to say the very least.
Then again, it's 5:43 in the morning. What do I know about disappointment.
(I need to stop writing my posts at ungodly hours. I am aware.)
September 01, 2009
Sometimes when I wake up, remembering reality becomes a relief. The process begins and it gets whispered into my ear that leaving is a good thing, the best thing perhaps. But sometimes, when I remember it all, I willingly admit it's a shitty disappointment. That's what it is like these days.
Everybody asks about Now, and I can never quite find the words to explain it. Life is good. I miss home terribly, but I'm getting by here. There are a handful of beautiful people I keep in my pocket, and everyone else shuffles past with their neon rave pants and odd ways of thinking. It's sort of reassuring, but I've forgotten how to scream.
Gabrielle (left) and I at Harry's party last September. I can't believe it's been a year since we sat by the pool and swayed to Coldplay and fiddled with his Lord of the Rings silver pewter chess set. If I listen carefully I can still hear Soulja Boy in the background and the sounds of their feet as they attempt to superman dat Robocop. This photograph was taken just moments before Sam and Stefano bellyflopped and drenched my camera with chlorinated water and droplets of nonexistent clarity. They say those were the good old days.
Three hundred and sixty five sometimes only feels like one.
Holy macaroni, this is long. Sorry for the frivolous sap post. I swear this is only because I'm talking nostalgia with Gabs, and I don't have Aaron to complain to tonight. Aaron Coelho, come back from biology camp. Who else will lecture me for using up a day's worth of hot water?
On a brighter note, it's the first day of spring, and Chelsea beat Burnley 3-0. Hahaha. Life is great.
August 23, 2009
I have given lazy sunday a whole new definition. It's fantastic.
Here are a handful of photographs from last night. I avoided people pictures just in case, except for Mitch and his cake, because everybody wants to see that, right?
August 18, 2009
I never liked her but I liked her tights.
I failed both my english literature and music literature tests today, and not in the frivolous sense. I left half of my music lit paper blank because I failed to remember what the fuck compositional devices even were, and neither of my english lit responses were complete when the hour was up. We also got our math results back
(fail) (okay no, 64.8%) and there is a geography test on wednesday, and an in-class religion essay for friday. Life is glorious! I miss home.
Right now I'm a bubble of happy happy thoughts and pretty rather depressing ones.
August 11, 2009
(Comme un tendre et triste regret is the section of Debussy's prelude that is keeping me up. That, and my humming of other unrecognisable songs. TEEs should come with a warning label, but only for insomniacs. Good children needn't worry.)
August 09, 2009
I had an odd dream last night. We sat by the railroad tracks with our chins on our knees, ripping blades of grass from the soil and talking about nothing. You wouldn't look me in the eye, but that was okay -- both you and I were far too busy watching people run for the beach, with their hot pink floaties clutched under their arms and unlit cigarettes clasped between two skinny fingers. I woke up with the shivers, and it wasn't until the television was on that they finally went away.
On a brighter note, Perry Como makes me smile.