this must be the place

i couldn't tell you what the fuck happened tonight, but it didn't go according to plan.

i am now in bed, watching:



this song is as close to dangerous as i get these days, i hear the first few lines and my bottom teeth push up against my fake, several grand worth of replaced smashed out top ones (one of which the back came off already through grinding), and i actually believe the words. but look at this performance; david bowie only cares what the onlookers think. only a toddler would be able to smile at getting away with the actions of the first verse scot free the way he does. it does not strike me as okay to be quite so content with malice, and yet why else would anyone like this song? i need to think abot this (less?).

this is just a stupid drunken entry that i'll be super embarassed about in the morning, but am i not as carefree as i think, because i think? it makes me want to die a bit.

so let's get this straight, i am ill. i hate being ill, it doesn't suit me. i don't want to say the f word but i'm refusing to admit to myself that this is more than a cold. i decided today to spend a whole day in bed so that tomorrow i can get my shit together and get the errands i need to do done, and go out on a promised night out with krista. as a consequence, i have been bored and lonely but too achey and coughy and sneezy to really do anything about it. benjy bought me some cold and flu tablets on his way home from work so that i didn't have to go out in the rain (how adorable is that?), and john has been sat nattering to me on msn for six hours or so which has made me considerably chirpier. i do love my friends, they always manage to imrpove my mood.

so anyways i've got a couple of recipes i thought i would post that i've made this week, along with my usual cook's notes:

moroccan chicken

prep time: 10 minutes
cooking time: 50 minutes
serves 6.

ingredients:

12 chicken pieces, to include thighs, drumsticks and breasts
1 large onion, sliced
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 level tbsp rose harissa
large pinch of saffron
1 cinnamon stick
600ml (1 pint) chicken stock
75g (3oz) raisins
2 x 410g chickpeas, drained and rinsed.

1. heat a large, wide, non stick pan. add the chicken pieces, skin side down, and fry until well browned all over. add the onion and garlic and stir together for five minutes.

2. add the harissa, saffron, salt, and the cinnamon stick and season well with freshly ground black pepper. pour the stock over and bring to the boil, then reduce the heat. cover and simmer gently for 25-30 minutes.

3. add the rasins and chickpeas and bring to the boil. simmer uncovered for 5-10 minutes, then serve.

ok so this recipe was from my good housekeeping: one-pot cooking book. i'm not gonna make any claims towards its moroccan authenticity but i thought i'd dip my toe into those kinds of flavours with a straightforward recipe, to see if i liked the combinations, before i endeavoured anything more complex. i couldn't find rose harissa so i just used rosewater and regular harissa (i will probably have more use for the two as seperate ingredients anyway, thinking practically) and that all seemed fine. i cooked it a little longer, i tend to where stewed chicken is concerned and it never does any harm. i didn't salt the recipe, i think people are getting used to me not doing so, except for lara, who salted hers. the serving suggestion was with warm flatbread but i just had mine with plain couscous to absorb all the juices. it had a real smoky sweetness to it, i thoroughly enjoyed it, and was impressed at how tender it made the chicken (which was actually just a pack of chicken thighs we'd had in the freezer from a previous food shop). dan sort of did the flatbread thing by eating it in a sandwich, promptly ran back into the kitchen and gnawed another chicken thigh right up, so i think he approved. lara ate a huge bowl of it solo, and then over the course of the next few days dan hoovered up the chicken pieces and lara finished off the chickpeas. i think that means they liked it as much as i did, so it's definitely one to make again. i'm looking forward to trying different, more authentic moroccan dishes, too.

on to the next:

pear and ginger muffins

makes 12

ingredients:
250g flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
150g caster sugar
75g light brown sugar plus 1/2 a teaspoon per muffin for sprinkling
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 x 42ml pot sour cream
125ml vegetable oil
1 x 15ml tablespoon honey
2 eggs
1 large pear such as a cornice (or other fruit to give you about 300g in weight), peeled, cored, and cut into 5mm dice

1. preheat the oven to 200 degrees c or gas mark 6, and line a 2 bun muffin tin with muffin papers.

2. measure into a bowl the flour, baking powder, caster sugar, 75g of brown sugar and the ground ginger.

3. in a large measuring jug, whisk together the sour cream, oil, honey and eggs and then fold in the dry ingredients.

4. lastly, mix in the diced pear, and divide the batter evenly between the muffin cases.

5. sprinkle each one with 1/2 a teaspoon of brown sugar and bake for 20 minutes. remove to a cooling rack. best eaten still a little warm.

ok so this recipe is from nigella lawson's nigella express. i got ten muffins from this recipe, because i used my heart shaped silicone moulds, which makes eight, then my silicon round moulds for the remaining batter, and those are pretty deep so i got two extra large one. i overdid them slightly so they didn't look perfect but they tasted just great. i modified the recipe to use fresh ginger (about an inch and a half/two inch sized piece) which i grated and added along with the pear. i figured if i had fresh ginger in the house, why go out and buy ground? i think this added an extra heat that may not have otherwise been there. i also used two diddy williams pears, because they were what i had that needed using up, as opposed to the suggested cornice. no problems with that sub either, i still had 300g fruit. maybe i'll try these with apple soon? these didn't last a day. i ate one or two and was amazed at them, while they were still warm, krista came over and had a couple, lara ate a few and was totally in their thrall, and dan grabbed one and thoroughly enjoyed it. it was only brad who said they were 'reasonable', so i finished his off and though cold, i was still very definitely impressed with the recipe and myself. another one to keep around for using up fruit, i think. maybe would be very good with apple or plum.

anyways so that's what i've been cooking this week so far. i shall attempt some more cooking tomorrow night i think as i'm not going to get better without good food in my system. as for now, i think a little more ginger tea for me and then sleep. i've got a lot to do tomorrow.

i've been SO busy this week, mostly doing things i enjoy with friends, that i'm sure this week's things i love thursday will be a mammoth one. my theory is i'll just get on with it, so here is what's been bringing a smile to my face even though the good old english coastal wind chill factor seems determined to numb it completely frozen at the moment.

at the request of __jennacide i am peppering this post with pictures from lara's gig because i particularly liked the outfit i wore and the silly things we got up to. the photos were taken by my friend myke on his sister abbie's camera:


me and the lady lara herself, doing some very improper things with a mandolin outside the kwiki mart.

my insanely talented friends.
this has been a real week of remembering what a clever, creative, fascinating bunch of people i'm lucky to know. i had the pleasure of revelling in lara's (rubysohouk) excellence at the decade in the slums gig that spikey mark put on, the nice surprise of nina (ninaalexander painting me (you can see a work in progress of me on her livejournal, although my favourites are her amazingly coloured male form figures), and last night after work and before bed i read john's (lostjohn) article on politics vs. activism, written for praising through rage (http://practicalactivism-cerisa.blogspot.com/ his is the first article, political will and won't: it's a really interesting read, john is one of the most interesting men i have met in a long time, i'm enjoying the fact we converse daily).

which leads me nicely to my next point:

stimulating conversation.
i've realized that this week has been completely chock-full of interesting discussion, be it with john by text or online, late night chatting with lizzy on the sofa, chats with benjy in the pub, chilling out in lara's bed cos it's cold, hanging out with the critical theory lot after my seminar, talking to my dad about christmas and our family, all sorts. i think i'm realizing more as it gets older that you have to pursue interesting conversation, because silliness is fine a lot of the time but a whole life of it leads you to feel very empty.

this is me and bim in my lounge. i've gained a sailor hat to go with my leather leggings, band tee and oversized cardi scenester combo and he looks beautiful in his big bow, doesn't he?:



spending time with mum.
our afternoon little johnny russell's beer, dinner at porter's, getting very drunk in the deco, dancing round our lounge being very silly, meeting some of her old school friends, lovely weekend was had.

having a full diary.
life is always nicer when you feel you're actually doing things. this week i have felt like i've had a totally packed schedule already, what with uni, lara's gig, going to see upwith lizzy (highly recommended, incidentally, beautiful, moving and funny), all sorts, i've been constantly on the go. and i have actually loved it.

bim looks beautiful in his makeup, no? check out how shiny my leather effect leggings arrrre:



honourable mentions:
sushi, 'i have only just met you and i love you', brad telling everyone in the wedgewood rooms individually that he was 'going to do wee-wees', passing by nella larsen, plans to dress up in ears, tails, hats and whiskers to go and see where the wild things are with lizzy, reading alex's copy of wired and finding it very interesting and not as over-my-head as i necessarily assumed, drawings of some of the metal details of brighton station while i wait for my train, mine and doug's idea of a rape tape featuring 'baby it's cold outside' by tom jones and cerys matthews and 'obsession' by animotion, rimmel's 'perfect plum' nail varnish (it is beautiful, looks simultaneously edible and poisonous), dazed and confused's where the wild things are shoot (big fluffy neutrals, i want a trappers hat now), huge braeburn apples that actually cover you in juice and are so crisp they almost hurt to bite, flannel shirt and leggings combo of doom (so comfy i can overlook it's scenester-uniform connotations), stowford press, peanut butter on the chest actually curing hiccups, topshop glittery cropped jumper of doom, seeing how big i can actually make my hair, thierry mugliers alien perfume (three huge samples in three days? score), looking at a tonne of pictures of balloons after up, remembering the amazingness of luno by bloc party, lovely moroccan chicken (recipe soon), reading on the kitchen countertop, the egg game, wearing silly hats in the lounge, 'i called him cute and small and he didn't like it?!', random bar conversations with nice men who seem to want to tell me their life story over the course of one cigarette, 'i think they're cynical, no, i mean, i'm cynical regarding them...', the new maoam sweets with two flavours in one, dan actually deboning meat to put stew into a sandwich, 'this song should probably be dedicated to kirsty and her ginger tea', being likened to kate bush, mollyie ben's ridiculous hyperactivity in the face of a crowd, my name is earl with dan, being missed over the course of a week by some of the uni lot, filthy texts, wired magazine's feature on attempting to plan for the future (very usefullll), times higher education supplement articles that articulate my thoughts exactly, sussex admin staff all being lovely and helpful, sleeping under a handknit scarf on the train back from uni, grey eyeshadow and heavy heavy lashes, clean laundry smell dominating my room, laughing my arse off at chaccaron, birthday drinks with jim and the staff, apple juice with grated ginger in, the view from my window when stood on a chair watching a very pretty sunset, plans, and goals.

so, another day in which what i have done has amounted to very little other than painting my nails a perfect plum purple whilst sat in bed reading, engaged in sending and receiving delightfully filthy texts that make me wish it would just be december already.

purple seems to have recurred in my life repeatedly since that weird horoscope i got from rob brezsny the other week. i have a theory that when things are bought to your attention you notice them more, rather than there being any witchiness going on.

my weekend more than made up for my shitty, brutal week. i don't think i've ever met a group of people who laugh as much as my social circle. from drinking beer in bed with lara to watching my name is earl until i pass out with dan, i have had a great time. mum came to visit on saturday night and we got absolutely annhilated, it was rather marvellous. part of me wants to be irresponsible and go to the pub tonight but i know i should be a good girl, make moroccan chicken, watch a film or do some reading, and have an early night. i just want to see people, i've been cooped up in my room alld ay, and it does start to drive a body mad after a while.

also, check it out, nina, a friend of mine who lives above the pub painted me; how cool is that?



i do feel a little like she may have made me better looking than i am but i love the picture and the way she's painted my amazing jem and the holograms style star earrings. seeing that on facebook today made me feel all fancy and like a muse or something. i'm very flattered.

oh man, my body is aching this morning. from all the lifting i did this week presumably. i do feel like i got rather a lot done, mind. i've been properly cooking again, and this week tried a new recipe to use up some sprouts in the fridge; obviously it's going to be divisive cos people either love or hate sprouts, but it's a sophie grigson that you can find here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/database/brusselssproutandcar_71906.shtml

i didn't make many modifications, apart from a splash of red wine vinegar to make the onions caramelize quicker, and an omission of the salt, which in hindsight, was a failing on my behalf, i didn't realize that this soup would be quite so, how to put it? delicate, in flavour. i think were i to serve it again i might be tempted to grill some bacon to a crisp and crumble it in, along with the yoghurt and paprika (which would obviously make it non-veggie). that would contrast quite nicely with it's green sweetness. still, it's a good enough kickstart to kitchen activity for me; i've got big plans for some nigella pear and ginger muffins today and a plum and ginger crumble tomorrow.

in other news, what have i been doing? working, mostly. yesterday was nowhere near as bad as wednesday at work, in fact, due to certain outside the workplace factors i was in aq stellar mood most of my shift. it all went a bit pear shaped when trying to get everybody to leave, mind. i ended up having to clean puke off a table (who pukes on a table, seriously??) which then meant i lost my patience entirely when people were still nursing beers quarter of an hour after legal drinking up time. i get very fucked off with our regulars sometimes, they ought to know better; when i go drinking in the deco i can usually tell when the staff need me to leave and will do so accordingly. but yeah, i lost my patience with a table of regulars, which then led to some idiot i'd never met before mouthing off at me telling me to take it easy, and it took all my willpower not to fall shrieking on him and claw his eyes out. i'm really getting very tired of doing a job that results in me getting treated like shit by ignorant drunks, that doesn't even cover my rent payments of a month, to try and scrape out an existence so i can get an education and move myself away from these people. i think nathan ended up calming him down while i took out my anger on the dirt on the bar top, at least that's the impression i got from the apology delivered from nate to jim and the conciliatory hand on the arm and trademark 'i'm pissed so read what you like into this' smile i got. i was just relieved when everyone left. it's tiring when people don't necessarily realize you're a human being and you may not have your entire life invested into serving them, you might just be trying to pay the bills, like everyone else.

anyway, after everyone left, we all had some drinks with jim to celebrate his birthday. it was really nice actually, just staff sat down, talking about all manner of things. given how few hours we're all allocated these days it's almost surreal that we had that much time to sit down and talk to each other. we might have got him into trouble with nic, by keeping him out late, all of us saying to him 'just one more jim, just one more', all of us pouring different drinks, getting our boss drunk for the novelty of seeing it, since he never came out even before baby evie was born. it was a good time, that's for sure. anyways i've got muffins to make, parents to speak to, that kind of thing.

before i start, happy birthday dad, i know you still check this from time to time. so anyway, today is definitely a day in which things i love thursday is necessary rather than a luxury; last night's shift at work left me so bodily and mentally exhausted that it was all i could do in the last half hour of my shift not to cry, and that is, in fact, what i did when all the customers had left. hopefully today i can feel a little more positive about things. so let's get started with the positives from the past week.

getting stuff actually done.
furniture built? real food cooked? laundry done? paperwork and bank visits? shopping list for tesco written? che-eck. doing things left me feeling much more pleased with how i have spent my week; i haven't let my time slip by me and just watched it.

live video of talking heads
ah, i was born in the wrong decade. this recording of crosseyed and painless is the best thing i've heard all week.

amazing female friends.
had an amazing time with krista on saturday when we went out and took chaos by the balls, have sat up late most nights talking to lizzy face about all things serious and trivial, and recently got back in touch with my old friend sooz who i went to the high school with, only to discover she has an amazing tumblr all full of things interesting from a gender theory, queer theory, and postcolonial theory standpoint. fascinating stuff, non?

will self for the observer magazine:

how much do you drink?
i stopped drinking soon after that car accident, so i haven't drunk since 1984. i was very obviously an alchoholic level drinker. the way that i cope is by keeping large glass of creme de menthe by me at all times, so if i want to have it i can. it's a strange mind trick.

what's your attitude to smoking?
positive. i've given up smoking probably more than anyone else alive; every time i stub a cigarette out i'm certain it'll be my last, and i think it's that positive frame of mind that's really helped. when's the last time i had a cigarette? i'm smoking now, but it's definitely the last one i'm ever going to have.

how is that not hilarious? i love will self. the bad girl's stephen fry? hell yes.

when you listen to a weak song by a band you really like, realize it's the last track on the album and remember the amazing albeit disgusting secret track devoted to the subject of shitting...



...or is it just me that happens to? gotta love fischerspooner.

being back in the kitchen
i made dinner for lara and myself last night. nothing ridiculously fancy, just a garlic and spinach cream sauced pasta i remembered from one of jenny's cookbooks with a dressed tomato, olive and cucumber salad, but it felt good to be cooking with fresh, good food again, and now i am itching to get cooking over the weekend, mostly because i know i haven't lost my mojo, so to speak.

honourable mentions.
lara's homemade apple pie, texts asking 'do you actually own jeans or do your leg coverings come entirely from the early eighties fashion hits?', new, self-built bookshelf, feeling in control of situations where previously the other person's personality has completely swallowed mine, sofa and strongbow sessions with lizzy, spinach and garlic cream sauce pasta, collection 2000 glitter pens with fixative (i am serious, if makeup could be my boyfriend, the 'gossip' one, which is royal blue, would be), planning out chutney and jam making for christmas, tie dye leggings, wearing a crown of leaves and floating around getting told i was pretty, hearing daft punk played in my workplace, grace's hitchcock heroine act at hms pinup, rediscovering megacolon by fischerspooner, nails inc. polish in shoreditch (perfect hot pink), 'botty burp!' and the ensuing hysterics, finally not having to read any more judith butler (not that i disagree with her, but honestly i can't think why we were prescribed three articles to read that pretty much said the same thing), writing out my ideal day and realizing i don't need to push myself as hard as i thought to achieve it, vodka and lemonade for no apparent reason, mumm's and studying with benjy, rayman raving rabbids, imagining everyone bald, 'MINCY MINCY' 'don't judge me', trying to imagine a computer programmed to be offended if you called it a knobber, adrienne rich poetry, being friended by my sort-of step brother on facebook, finally kicking bowser jr.'s butt on the airship armada stage on super mario galaxy, palmer's cocoa butter lipbalm, lara's chilli and pepper chutney, dancing to does it offend you yeah by krista and doing the fat kid aeroplane, brad's rants on laughing cow cheese.

waking up slowly in a sunlit room alone is sometimes my favourite thing to do. letting my eyes slowly come into focus onto walls piled high with books and pictures, and contemplating that first shock of leaving the covers while still lazily turning over pictures from the dream i just woke up from, this decision always depends on how much i need coffee, how many things i have to do.

last night when i was talking to lizzy i made a promise to myself that i'd stop spending so much time in bed, not thinking or doing. my bed is for sleeping in, not for living in. i can't feel focused and productive if i'm cocoooned in gold satin and wearing leopard print. when i walked to the bank the other day i felt the familiar surge of love for my town that i can't fill myself with if i closet myself away all the time. i have to get outside more.

it's difficult though, lizzy and i both talked about how sometimes you get in a headspace where the only thing you really, genuinely want to do, is go to the pub, or drink with mates. and i think that's dangerous, because you can get into the habit of sitting around doing the same thing and complaining that there isn't anything to do. which i think a lot of us are dangerously on the verge of doing. i need to get my act together, start organizing meals round here like i did in my previous houses, start thinking about ways to test my comfort zone, doing things that surprise or test me. i'm currently engaged in trying to figure out what i want from life after reading a few things on http://chrisguillebeau.com and am working on an exercise that involves detailing my ideal day in great detail then examining what steps it might be wise to take to move myself closer to that ideal. it is interesting for sure. it's testing the boundaries of my motivation.

i think this is all a glorified 'man, i'm bored' thing, but i know there's things i can do to remedy it. i should be recording for the radio show at some point, and i have a study session with ben again this weekend, so i just need to come up with some other ways to fill my time, maybe having people i haven't seen in ages over for dinner and getting back in the kitchen. letting myself be creative again in the only way i seem to be successful at it, that is, cooking or baking.

i'm listening to the echo and the bunnymen cd my dad got me for my birthday when i was in halls. he always seems to have my tastes absolutely pegged with the presents he buys me, which has led to me to angst out about what to get him for his birthday tomorrow. i think i'm onto a winner, mind, and shall probably be giving it to him when i stay round his for christmas. i'm looking forward to seeing him actually. i was hoping in his spell of unemployment that he might pop down and see me, but i guess he was as busy as the rest of us. it's strange, moving away from my family is the only thing that has allowed me to rebuild all the bridges we burned when i was a fiery, quick-to-react teenager and my parents were divorcing. i actually enjoy spending time with them these days, and i think part of that has to do with the fact that i so violently severed myself from the idea of my youth, from all the ties i may have had to my hometown. i presented them, when they visited or asked, with a picture of the complete life i have built myself down here; with the daily negotiations that make me, in their eyes, an adult. i guess the terms of our relationships had to be reshuffled, the balance made more equal. i think both my parents have always been aware of my capacity for analysis and perception in human affairs, but since i moved away i feel more like i'm genuinely listened to and my thoughts treated with merit, on both sides. i guess they must, in some bizarre way, be proud of me.

joel says he hates my low self esteem, and that the day i realize what i am will be a wonderful day. i'm not entirely sure of the logistics of that ever happening. to a certain extent i'm always going to be baffled as to what the fuss is all about, but i can kind of get a handle on it in such sidelong glances as that, as being able to try and put myself in my parents shoes, working backwards from our ineractions. i'm not sure what that says about me or how i work.

also, referring back to severing all ties with my hometown, christmas this year is going to be slightly surreal, i think. anyone who's known me for any length of time while i've been at university knows i'll always make completely halfhearted plans to catch up with people while i'm staying at mum's, that i never act on. but this year something tells me things will be a little different, and my week at home won't just be me, the cats, red wine, and cooking for the family. i will probably go out in northampton with john. and interestingly, this has already provoked thoughts for me. there are people who i would rather like to bump into, find out how they're doing, catch up with, that sort of thing. but they are far outnumbered by the people i could completely do without seeing ever again. it's not that i'm afraid, because i try not to be scared of anything that can't actually damage me these days, i spent too long being bambi eyed and knock kneed about things that couldn't really hurt me when i was younger, i don't really want to put anything on hold or pass up opportunities because of that mentality any more. it's more that i feel i will have to be particularly resilient in not falling into old behavioural patterns. i'll need to be very self assured that i have come a long way since i lived in northampton, i'm no longer the shy fat girl, i don't need to answer to anybody there, i'm actually fairly academically successful, i have an interesting and varied social life that involves things like performing comedy and doing the radio show, i have a wide social circle that came entirely from being non judgemental and open throughout university, i'm working a job that i really rather like, living in a house that acts as a fairly close support network a lot of the time, i am, too all intents and purposes, doing quite well for myself. as long as i don't let some brat i went to school with slip the knife in in casual conversation, i'm pretty sure i can stand strong. i spoke to lizzy about it in conversation at about 3am on the sofa last night; and i spoke so matter-of-factly about it that even i have reason to believe i'm not scared, i'm actually just prepared. maybe i shouldn't worry so much or be such a cynic, i don't know.

either way, for an entry that's about not staying in bed all my life, this has kept me bed-bound for long enough. time to stop thinking about doing things and actually do them, methinks.

last night was lovely. i've decided i'm going to do the hms pinup theme costumes more often, after everyone said i looked lovely last night. i wore a sweepy silver dress and bound myself in tightly at the waist with ropes, put a crown of leaves in my hair, and off i went. who says a toga theme has to involve being drunk in a bedsheet? i got so many compliments though, it's enough to fuse a circuit in my brain.

i ended up coming home, sitting around the lounge in my costume drinking with ben, alex, rosie, and dan. lizzy joined us later. it was really great to see rosie in a fun, silly mood, and actually out drinking with us. i don't see her outside work nearly as much as i see alex and mark, so it was lovely to be as ridiculous with her in my lounge as we are behind the bar. talk did briefly swing to the recession again, lizzy and i discussing the amazing fact that everyone's willing to blame gordon brown even though it's something happening worldwide. we were talking about parents, about how lizzy comes from a fairly socialist background, and i come from a conservative one. i often didn't understand my parents and their politics when i was growing up, but i saw a german film called das edukators where a group of radical teenagers end up kidnapping an old man because he caught them turning his house topsy turvy, and he turns round and says to them that he was like them once, but once you have things you start wanting to protect them. i've never been a believer in the whole 'getting more conservative as you get older' thing, but i can see how it would work with both my parents, as they both have working class roots but couldn't be called anything other than middle class. talking to my mother about the next election i noticed a hysterical edge to my voice as i tried to explain to her that as a parent she couldn't be serious about giving the go-ahead to what the conservative party would do to my future.

anyway we ended up moving away from politics. i think a lot of my friends are afraid of it; like it'll kill the mood or something. but in my opinion it's something that has to be talked over, before the actuality of the situation kills a lot of our moods permanently. maybe i've always been realistic like that.

anyway today is going to involve a trip to the bank, some more studying judith butler, then drinks with benjyface, because i think at the moment he's not doing so well with losing his uncle. i think if we go sit in the deco and have a few beers and talk things through properly he might feel a little better. i'm not sure how good i'll be at pacifying words, but in my experience the grieving only need listening and sympathy, not platitudes and incessant chatter. i seem, at the moment, to always have completely full evenings.

i got a message from joel yesterday asking me if i was alright because it sounded like something had made me think rather a lot. it was honestly a surprise. it's not even one thing that's made me think. it's several. i've met a fair few people who are making me question things, i've got a fair few situations to negotiate, certain things to cut out of my life completely, it's all arrived at the same time. it's something i do, however, feel in control of. it's interesting to see what people pick up on and worry about from my writings though; people i've studied with have gotten tuned into bouts of academic despair, people i socialize with are tuned into introspection, and so on. in fact, it's interesting to me that people worry at all, i spent so long thinking no one gave a shit.

in other news, experimental poetry is driving me up the wall, and my brain is caught up with non academic matters that make me stop, stare into space twiddling my lockets and my jade fish hook, grin, and then resume. i have only talked to lizzy and krista about it so far, but i'm excited like a kid; i've got things to look forward to. i feel like this whole update was full of nothing, but i needed to clear out my brain before i started doing sensible things.

so i've been sat in bed all day doing inconsequential things like painting my nails and reading the observer magazine. i'm currently engaged in a text back and forth which is making me smile (maybe more than it should? i don't know) and am contemplating my outfit for tonight's hms pinup toga party (i'm thinking of going mostly metallic but i'm not fully sure yet).

i had a really good night out last night. there's been a few of these lately but yesterday was by far one of my favourites. krista and i went out dancing at the wedgewood rooms, which sounds fairly basic, but it was really, truly what was needed. i think lately krista has been a little worried about being in a rut, so i went round there like a strongbow fuelled whirlwind, manage to put her together an outfit, encouraged pre-drinking of shots, selected loads of ludicrous electro, proffered cigarettes, and listened to rants where they were necessary. i have a feeling this is exactly what krista needed at that particular moment in time. the serious discussion and plotting and planning can wait, fun first.

once out we decided to give in to the lure of the perennially dangerous chaos cocktail, and convinced lara to play us some electro so we could seize the empty floor. in helping a friend to stop feeling self conscious, i myself found i dropped my self consciousness. it's been plaguing me a lot lately; i think because so many terrible photos of me have surfaced lately. i know i shouldn't be so consumed with how i look and how i'm coming across, but i think it affects everyone to a certain extent. i sometimes regress back to feeling as though i'm unattractive, and have to redeem my looks with my personality, which is never a good mindset to be in, and always leads to overexaggeration of humour and endeavours to continuously appear smart that make me come across pretty much like a dick. i can maybe get back to being quietly comfortable in my own skin, rather than trying desperately to make sure everyone knows just how smart and funny i can be; i don't need that kind of mass validation at the moment, and it's making me feel less desperate and nervous. i really rather like it.

the other thing i like about evenings with krista, is the fact we'll always get food and discuss the evening; put a cap on things. we were sat in kens kebabs looking for all the world like a pretentious 'new way of doing eveningwear' editorial and laughing about all the stupid shit that's happened to us while we wait for food before, and i had this moment of overwhelming gratitude at knowing someone like krista. i was reading through entries on here from the first year of university the other day, and i noticed that until my friendship with krista starts to emerge in my writing, i'm using the language of abject despair to describe university. i guess with krista i like the fact that we share everything. it's been a rewarding friendship that's taught me a lot about mutual sharing, respect, and trust. in analysing it i can't say i feel like there's a distinct giver or taker. we interchange accordingly. it's probably the first friendship in which i'd say the scales are equally tipped, and when i think back to all the rough times i've had at uni, there's only one person who has consistently been there through all of them, and it's her. so anyway, i had this total thankyou universe moment in ken's, but it isn't the kind of thing you just come out with in a kebab shop, because hey, i don't live in an episode of skins. we ended up going back to hers and harassing rhys for a bit, then i tottered off home and shrugged off my dress and slipped into bed smiling inwardly at my world.

today i've been doing some writing in my paper journal, some weighing up of priorities. it seems, inconveniently, like every area of my life has simultaneously become a question of saying yes to one thing and consequently having to say no to another. weighing up things in terms of their worth in relation to each other is tiring. it's even more tiring with people, but that decision seems to be being reached for me, and i don't want to go into detail as to exactly the nature of the decision, that would be somewhat tactless, but i think in a few months things will have worked out for the best, whatever that entails. i seem to have this ability to get whatever it is that i want with regard people, i just need to analyze whether what i want will be good for me, whether in choosing certain things from certain people, i'll feel fulfilled. lara read my tarot the other day and in reflecting upon the cards i could see soome interesting negotiations between responsibility and recklessness, and between creativity and productivity, that have been weighing on my mind anyway lately. not just with regards my study, but with the social, the sexual, and the domestic, too. if i'm going to neglect responsibility the way i have been lately, it better be for something damned worthwhile, essentially. and the only person who can effect that change is me.

at the moment, what i wouldn't give for a few days completely alone and devoid of all responsibility. i'd fill my time with writing, hour long baths, creating, and trying to get a handle on my dreams and ambitions. i'm slowly catching up to them but they keep slipping away from me. since that's nothing more than idealism, i'd better work with the time i do have, i think.

also, absolutely loving wasting time reading: http://www.theuniformproject.com and http://learnsomethingeveryday.co.uk

i need to start a creative project. i really do.

another crazy-busy week for me, so i'm having a day of doing nothing in bed and eating toblerone before work. my temples are really hurting, i think maybe it's me finally letting the tension i'm carrying in my jaw ease up. i'm actually starting to feel the damage done by my previous unadressed stress.

my first postgrad presentation.
i'm so relieved it went okay. i was really scared, because at sussex you're kind of preaching to the choir, you know? people there are smart and engaging, and i was worried i wouldn't make the grade. fortunately i did, and that's given me confidence for my next one, which is next week for theory in practice, and will be involving judith butler to a degree i haven't determined yet.



this song is cute. i keep getting it in my head when i'm walking places. 'some people say i done alright for a girl' ahaha, yes.

spending time with family.
it was amazing to catch up with my mum after what felt like forever. again we didn't do anything majorly earth-shattering, but time spent shopping and in the pub still afforded opportunity to relax and catch up, it was lovely. i think it did my mum some good too, she's always amazed by how pleased everyone is to see her when she comes down here, but it's cos my friends think she's amazing, just like i do.

trying to decipher my rob brezsny horoscope this week.
now the fact i've even mentioned horoscopes here will come as a surprise to a lot of people. let me just explain something; i'm not a believer in astrology really, i believe in the idea that an effectively written sun sign horoscope can bring up interesting points for you to reflect on; not necessarily to meditate, more to interact with the concept of. they can basically trigger you to investigate areas of your life you may not have given much thought to previously. i don't think it's a big mystical thing, it's just interesting points to consider and interrogate, if you see my point. normally i like rob brezsny's writing because it avoids all the mumbo jumbo, but this week i got smacked with this:

Pisces:

According to Leonardo da Vinci, you could magnify the power of your prayers or meditations ten-fold by bathing in purple light. Back in his time, that was easiest to accomplish by standing near a church's stained glass window that was tinted purple. These days you can get the same effect with the help of a purple light bulb. Alternately, you could simply close your eyes and visualize yourself surrounded by a shimmering purple glow. I recommend this practice for you in the coming days. It's an excellent time to do anything and everything to intensify your spiritual power. P.S. Experts in color theory say that purple nurtures the development of the imagination, which would be of great value to you as you tone and firm your devotional impulses.

a far cry from his usual prosaic writings on everyday life. maybe i should just paint my nails purple or something? ha. i would as a general rule recommend his writings though, just for interesting thought triggers.

getting a ton of tidying done.
i know it sounds stupid, but my room was so messy it was getting to be a headfuck. another day of tidying tomorrow and i ought to be good to go, to be honest. it feels good to have nearly got it sorted rather than living in an absolute pig sty. i feel proud.

honourable mentions.
autumnal coloured chrysanthemums, new dress that makes me feel like a ballerina warrior, cherry red manicures, yogi tea sweet chilli blend, deepa mehta's fire, the first strongbow sofa session i've had with lizzy and dan in aaaages, interesting conversations left right and centre, jokes about this becoming serialized in the guardian (cheers john), the chilli tamarind and honey duck at aubergine, reading ali smith short stories on the train and thinking they read like lee's journal, getting told i was dressed 'like one of those olsen kids', comedy burp timing with mum in gunwharf, mulled wine in the falmer bar, catching the falmer/brighton train with ellie, nathan pelvic thrusting at my grandma and singing uptown girl at her, 'YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD!', benjyface hugs, spontaneous texts about my facebook notes from joel, adding new and interesting people to my msn contacts, brie by the bucketload, sunday drinks to alleviate tension with the one and only lara, the prospect of hms pinup's toga party this coming sunday, coffee ice cream with dulche de leche, studying in the sunny patch in the lounge, glittery religious icons, fairylights, the prospects of an end of term dinner with the queer theory lot, hair that smells of orange blossom even the day after a wash, backwards coat-wearing, the return of dan to the house, lavender body lotion, giant toblerone of doom, lara's chilli chutney, do-nothing days.

so uni yesterday has made me feel energized, even as it exhausted me. it was nice to be back in the realm of academia, discussing charlotte perkins gilman's the yellow wallpaper and deepa mehta's fire. i think i'm beginning to get ideas about my queer theory essay already, and i'm fairly sure my presentation was successful. speaking of academia, i found out yesterday that lizzy got a merit on her dissertation, and i'm incredibly pleased for and proud of her. i knew she could do it, and sitting talking to her while i read it through for her made me really see how anxious she was. i know the feeling, to be honest. when you get intellectually invested in a piece of work, and put in that much time, energy, and mental effort, you become emotionally linked to it in ways that are very difficult to explain. i likened my undergraduate dissertation to giving birth and then getting postpartum. i still can't really look at it now. but you still on some level feel a surge of what you feel is underacknowledged pride, along the lines of 'this is my creation and it is entirely new, why aren't people making more of a song and dance about it?'. of course, i'm speaking purely from my own perspective, about what happened to me, and from the limitations and advantages my position has, not to mention from an entirely different discipline, but i saw lizzy put herself through the wringer, and what i'm trying to say is, i'm glad she got the grade she deserved for all her hard work.

'going to school' (as i so quaintly call it) yesterday was really nice. despite the fact it was freezing and as i purposefully strode (a rare occurence) up fawcett road i got soaked and thus spent the whole train journey shivering, it was worth it. i made it on time to theory in practice, actually a fairly interesting seminar. i really rather enjoyed dean's presentation, but i got rather stressed out at the fact that a lot of my group seemed to instantly dismiss fredric jameson's writings because of his marxist association. i mean, its all well and good to sit there and say that marxist criticism has it wrong on a few levels, but i think jameson's move to try and socialize theory is an admirable one, even if sometimes the links are a little arbitrarily made. i'm beginning more and more to acknowledge what mandy said in 'against reason'. the fact that the more you study theory in an academic context, the more you apply it to everyday life, and that as an academic you have a certain responsibility to. i have to say, i'm not about to say i'm immune from conjecture for conjecture's sake on occasion, and it is nice to look at theory suspended in an academic vacuum occasionally, but i'm getting more and more used to applying it, and applying it in terms that people who aren't necessarily academic can understand. i think this is the responsibility mandy was talking about. she was a really good stand-in for simon; i didn't think she would be.

also, i got my option form for next term. i think i want to take derrida and the frankfurt school. just to be somewhat awkward.

anyway i went for mulled wine with my theory in practice classmates, which was nice. i'm only just really learning names; this commute has made it very difficult to bond entirely effectively with people, but i'm working on it. it was nice to talk about things outside of the course, things we studied at undergrad, outside interests, that sort of thing.

queer theory was interesting too. we ended up discussing far more of the theory than mehta's film, and i gave my first postgrad presentation. i think it went well. my problem is mostly that i'm used to being in a situation where people don't necessarily follow the concepts i'm trying to work with, so i have to explain everything. anyway, i ended up bringing in a lot of the fanon and bernard shaw work i did in eugene's postcolonial drama unit, to show that nationalist practices still enact a misogynist system; and then endeavouring to illustrate that this system was heteromisogynist. i think it went well. i brought in some of my personal area of interest, the tying in of reproduction with production, which worked perfectly well in relation to concepts of the nation state in formerly colonized countries, i think. people seemed to like my thoughts on the grandmother figure representing epistemological control that's rarely explored in fire. austin's presentation was fantastic. he wrote on orientalism and sexuality, and brought in some theory on othello, and iago's presentation of othello's uncontainable sexuality within the play as an example of orientalism and it's anxieties. very interesting. i prefer it when people bring in other things that they've mentally linked to what we're studying, it makes listening to them more enjoyable and really helps stimulate discussion.

went for drinks with the queer theory lot afterwards, then dashed and got the train with ellie to brighton central. it's nice to have another commuter on my course, she and i seem to share the same strains and anxieties, and it's nice to know i'm not alone. she's intermitting next term though, and since i'm full time i probably shan't see her after queer theory is over, which is a serious shame. she's so nice; she did her undergrad at sussex and was head of the drama society. she's commuting from newcastle because she's living there with her boyfriend while he can't change her job, and i can see perfectly well why she'd want to intermit. she makes part time study seem so appealing, but imultaneously i'm glad i'm going at full pelt. i don't work well at any other pace.

at brighton i ended up bumping into lizzy's friend russ, so we talked on the train back. he got his master's dissertation grade back too, and we were talking about how he was writing his after he'd found out his girlfriend was pregnant, moved house, and was working two jobs. and about how threshers is going into admission so he's to look for a new job. i find that sort of determination really admirable. it's horrendous to watch, actually, knowing all these amazing, talented, creative people, all of whom possess a real strength of character, get screwed over by this recession. i was talking to lara on sunday about this, and about how to a certain extent, i think everyone i know, to a certain extent, is lost. myself included. it's not easy to negotiate all the choices life offers us, there isn't a 'right thing' to do in a society where what the 'right thing' is is supposed to be whatever makes you happy. it's very difficult to define what makes you happy; it's difficult to do what makes you happy without sacrificing other things; what makes you happy might make other people unhappy; i could go on. and for most of us, our life is secular and the pursuit of happiness, and love for some, has replaced religious meaning. but there's no way to know if the path you take in pursuit of either will work. it's no wonder my generation is so anxious, and scared, and lonely to a certain extent a lot of the time. i hate to sound morbid. it's not all doom and gloom; i think, to a certain extent, the salvation of my generation will be each other. i know at least in my social circle that we support each other. half our interaction is late night, stare-into-the-middle distance conversation about what frightens us, it's mutual reassurance, it's the equivalent of family. and i remember when pillow-talk was about what you both liked, now it's about what you're both afraid of. but the comfort is in knowing you're not alone in being afraid of it. it put me in mind of that monologue in 'you could have both' by the long blondes:

I feel like C.C. Baxter in Wilder's 'Apartment',
That particular arrangement just came out of the blue
And who was it who sang 'I know that you love one
So why can't you love two?'
I was in full-time education when I got scared of the future
And I've only got a job so I don't disappoint my mother
It's like I've painted myself into a social corner
Well, that's what happens when you listen to
Saint Scott Walker
On headphones
On the bus.
What about us? What about us?
My friends come round and they ask me 'What about us?'
My friends come round and they ask me 'What about us?'
You know I don't kid myself about happy endings
I'm too old for all that now
But you don't have to worry that much about the future
And it's not as if you ever did before
Because you'll always have everything just as you want it
And there'll always be a phone to ring at three in the morning
And you'll always have someone who'll drive you home
Yes, you'll always have someone, someone to drive you home.
Someone to drive you home.

people always manage to say things so much better than me. but anyway, at least, as friends, my lot and i may worry about money, and emotional hurt, but we'll always have each other, and the appreciation of all the cool things we can do (which are all different, and interesting), and the sharing of cooking and drinking together. the recession may be looming over all our futures like a big black shadow, but our refugee-camp chin-up attitude means we'll pull through, same way other generations have done before us. that said, just one month of anxiety free finance would be amazing, ha.

everytime i write in this these days it turns mammoth. i think i've probably written enough. i have a room to tidy, a book case to build, and a body to bathe. i better get on and live.

i have just watched fire by deepa mehta for my queer theory unit. how did i find it? amazing. it is very stylizes, but done very cleverly. i liked the narrative within a narrative, the myth of sita's trial by fire, and the ending had me open-mouthed, letting cigarette ash drop on my leg, still, still, and stopped.



i have to write my academic journal entry for tomorrow, and a presentation on postcolonial queer. i think i'm going to take the line 'there's no word in our language that describes how we feel about each other', from fire as a springboard, and write on how the theory i read today still seems to try to apply a westernized language of economics and exchange which results in various tensions. it's the usual 'speak for the subaltern' but out of necessity, because homosexuality need not be unspeakable. i'm not entirely sure what direction i'll take but as i write out my academic journal i think i'll probably end up gaining more clarity, because that tends to be how i work.

i had a nice few days this weekend. my mum and grandma were down so i've been very busy. a lot of it involved shopping, which is an activity i tend to find a little of an ordeal sometimes (i always seem to go buy clothes when i have poor body image, which naturally is not the best thing for my mental stability) but it turned out to be ok. i scored some booty from topshop, and actually, no significant dents to my self esteem. we went into gap, to find my grandma some jeans, which is an experience i always find a little jarring. i know nobody at gap really liked me, i think i just wasn't their kind of person; a little too thoughtful maybe, i was always wrapped up thinking about things that were a little abstract, or too sub-surface. but yeah i always find it difficult to be in there because i know that i'm being judged by people who are having stilted conversations with me, and it shouldn't affect me because it's no longer a part of my life, but in reality, it reminds me that i spent a very lonely year there being basically ignored. still, the rest of my weekend was most enjoyable, and i have now been forced back into a regular eating/sleeping pattern. which helps with the whole productivity thing.

i ended up going for a drink with lara last night. tensions in the house are at a bit of a high, and sitting in the lounge mulling it over between the two of us was only making things worse. i'm not about to go into detail about what is wrong on here without first speaking to emily about how i feel in a constructive manner because that would be juvenile and potentially inflammatory. suffice to say however, i am not happy to be demonized for having fun and acting my age, because i am not hurting anybody. if i was, ii would be the first to stop, reflect, and apologize. lara and i had a good time, however. blew off some steam, drank a lot of cider, ate pizza, swore, danced like loons. the usual business. she's in the kitchen now cooking some roast veg and couscous that i believe i will be taking part in, which is good as i've yet to really contemplate anything more grown up than a bowl of ice cream today, and that's hardly brain food.

anyway, i know none of this was particularly interesting but i've realized i've a tendency to unload mentally before embarking on anything academic; it gets rid of all the cobwebs. mind, i seem to actually have a fair few people in my life these days who i actually feel stimulated by; it's great to be having interesting conversations again.

ok so pretty sure it's been ages since i did one of these. i figure it'll probably be a pretty lengthy one, because the past few weeks have kind of blurred into one, and despite the perennial visits from mr. doom and mrs. gloom i think there's probably a lot i'm grateful for that happened in the time. so here we go, this thursday i am grateful for:

quality housemate time.
it's been really nice to spend solid amounts of time with my housemates. where it's been dan's birthday, emily and he have had a fairly long time off work, which has been cool. there's been much drinking and being silly, it's been fun.



i went to see fantastic mr. fox with dan, rob, and idris (i forget when) and was bowled over visually by it. especially the big scenes, the colour palette, and the way things like electrocution were represented. nowhere near as true to the book as it could have been, but that doesn't stop people liking the 70's charlie and the chocolate factory, does it? i still love you, wes andersen.

my mum being really thoughtful.
my mum spontaneously rang me up to let me know she was ordering me a bookcase cos i have barely any storage, and she needed to know what days i'd be home. i thought that was really lovely of her. she also rang me up yesterday to coordinate our weekend around what i wanted to do rather than wait until we had to sort it out in front of grandma so she wouldn't interfere.



if it weren't for the fact i hate val kilmer's rubbish face a lot, top secret may be one of the funniest films i have ever seen.

getting home from long nights out and listening to maximo park.
sometimes i think you just need to, don't you? i still can't decide whether i like the first or album best. i think maybe, by a short margin, the first one.

slaughterhouse five by kurt vonnegut.
i forgot how much i enjoy this book. really and truly. i love some of its thoughts on history and time, and meaning. par example:

'there isn't any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has chosen them carefully, so that, seen all at once they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. there is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no cause, no effects. what we love in our books are the depths of many marvellous moments seen all at one time.

and

he said everything there was to know about life was in the brothers karazamov, by feodor dostoevsky. 'but that isn't enough anymore,' said rosewater.
another time billy heard rosewater say to a psychiatrist, 'i think you guys are going to have to come up with a lot of wonderful new lies, or people just aren't going to want to go on living'

i love vonnegut's idea that traditional narratives are no longer an acceptable way to encapsulate things; that we have progressed as human beings in such a way that thinking of the past as a straight, coherent line, with good and bad, just isn't enough anymore. we can never really say anything working in that fashion.



paris is burning was an amazing thing to have to watch for university. it's about harlem drag queens and their ball culture; absolutely fascinating. i really enjoyed getting an education on a culture previously unexplored by me. octavia saint laurent was one of the people i could relate to more; she seemed so hopeful and excited for a future; there's a bit where you see here running down the beach singing about how excited she was for her sex change which is adorable.

honourable mentions.
'chocolate mouuuuuussse', a walk by the sea and tea in the peace cafe with daniel, my amazing floral ghost halloween costume, pantene ice shine conditioner, 'if you like it then you should have put a crumble on it', making stupid moo sounds with dan while watching my name is earl, japanese food at the new place on albert rd., this is not a book by keri smith, puppy chutney, prospect of seeing mum later, job interview tomorrow, my jade fish hook courtesy of my father, abusing 'WOOF!' in route, darren's dr. manhattan costume (complete with giant blue winky), 'are you a sardine?', not really wearing outside clothes much all week, lara curing me with pasta, 'BRRRRRUMMMMMMMMMM', telling a pub crawl to shit off while i was on the other side of the bar, wispa golds ftw, talking about the symmetry of the war memorial, weirdly illustrated children's books from night owl, the december issue of delicious magazine, doing uni work to matt's electro and breaks stuff at work, falling over a lot but finding it all very amusing, voguing and 'shantay, shantay, shantay-shantay-shantay', talking about the ol' hometown, being woken up in a very pleasant manner, sunlight through my window, seaglass, cheap biros.

courtesy of lostjohn, to alleviate my boredom a little. i haven't updated my interests much since at least the first year (and i think examining this will prompt me to). still, it'll be interesting to see whether i've actually changed.

Comment on this post. I will choose seven interests from your profile and you will explain what they mean and why you are interested in them. Post this along with your answers in your own journal so that others can play along.

late night phone calls. i wrote this when i was in a relationship, and i think it shows. due to the fact it was long distance, the best time to ring was usually late night so we'd sit and chat about our days before bed. in all honesty, this probably still applies; most of my phonecalls seem to take place at night. i appear to have grown up nocturnal, and am frankly in the habit of catching up with my mum when i have a spare minute which is usually after a shift at the deco. other than that, i don't think i really call anybody unless i'm on the way to them and need to check something. i don't really like talking on the phone. maybe now i have more control of my physical location maybe i should just make it 'late night conversation', because i do tend to stay up late with people very often, drunk or sober.

writing letters. i like to write letters. i write letters i send, letters i don't. letters to dead people and alive people. letters to myself, to people i know, people i don't, people i've met, and people i haven't. i don't know how it started but i think it had to do with trying to put down anxieties on paper. it's not just simply catharsis though, i don't think. i'm not sure. i'm also a huge fan of lists. changing format often leads to a break in mind-blank.

sylvia plath. oh man, this is something i should probably be ashamed of, but i'm not. naturally the bell jar is something i read when i was young (i think maybe 15, 16?) and while people laugh at that and make fun of it, i think it's a book that helps a lot of young girls feel a lot less alienated and scared by their feelings and surroundings, whether they've ever suffered from any form of mental illness or not. we covered it in sixth form actually, in conjunction with one flew over the cuckoos nest, and i think a lot of that study contributed not only to my in-depth examination of issues surrounding mental health and society, but i guess sowed the seeds of what has now essentially become my post-feminist stance. the bell jar isn't something i think i'd find fertile and engaging to read now, except maybe nostalgically, but i have her short stories, which i enjoy, and i have her unabridged journals which i think are amazing. i aspire to that kind of insight and analysis when writing about my own life, but i think i've a way to go.

pointless movies. this refers to my guilty pleasure side movie wise. i'd like to pretend that everything i watch is tasteful and highbrow, but that's not the case. while the bulk of my dvd's are either woody allen or foreign language classics, i'm not ashamed to admit that watching tacky horror or fairly unsubtle american comedy with other people and ripping them to pieces is great fun. i also like watching made-for-tv stuff and inventing my own dialogue.

tweed. tweed is a great fabric. i have a lot of things made of tweed. mostly men's stuff, i kind of like the annie hall vibe it gives off. it's even a pleasurable word to say.

keri smith. an artist, who you can find at kerismith.com. i own all her books and enjoy reading her blog; i think she has some very interesting ideas on creativity, interacting with one's environment, being less wasteful, and actually trying to make the world a nicer place to live/see it in a way that isn't necessarily bleak and depressing. the good thing about her work is that everything comes from the self; the idea that you have to be the change you want to see is hardly revolutionary, but i seem to be able to relate to the way she phrases and demonstrates it without my cynical side undercutting it. plus i admire her determination to remain playful and imaginative.

other peoples journals. and here is my public admission to nosiness. i love looking at the way other people choose to document their lives. i would never snoop on someone's journal without asking, i find the idea abhorrent, especially as i can see it from the perspective of a compulsive chronicler. but i own several published journals, of people famous or otherwise, have participated in several collaborative journal projects, and am a sucker for looking at sites online where people post scans of their journals or sketchbooks. and yet, perversely, if anybody ever read anything from mine i think i would consider it a massive violation.

actually, surprisingly, most of these interests still fit fairly neatly. well, i am surprised. work tonight was the shift from hell. two lots of pub golf. i think it's collapse o'clock.

sometimes i think the state of my hair directly corresponds to my willpower. i washed it, and combed all the tangles out today, and i now feel much more equipped to stand firm on priorities. i have, however, in my brief spurt of self destruction, had a lovely time.

lying on the sofa in a stupor on tuesday after everything wound down, and trying to stop feeling sick gave me ample time for reflection. it would be very easy just to give in to my urges to destroy myself, but i am actually surrounded by people who won't let me. while a lot of my friends revel in my drunk enfant terrible ways, there's the handful that rein me back in, that believe my apologies, that sit quietly and drink tea with me when the words won't come out about why i always have to be a child about my emotions before i can deal with them.

i've also come one step closer to fully affirming the epiphany that sex doesn't have to be full of contempt and pity for it to be good. i'm getting more and more wise in my choices as this year progresses i think. it's shaking my foundations a little, making me realize that not everybody who doesn't want an emotional connection wants instead to hurt other people to create a one-sided one. it's good to be coming to conclusions like that. it helps, even if i'm not fully certain i'm rid of the idea that self destructive sex has a certain allure, and am still feeling the barb a previous experience left, months later.

i feel like i'm being heard and seen, and that i'm hearing and seeing again. i don't feel at such a remove. hopefully i'll be back on the rails again soon. for now i'd better go carry on powering through this lacan (so much lacan....can't....take....his sentences....anymore) so that tomorrow i can blast my queer theory stuff and get my presentation written. i have my mother and grandmother visiting, and consequently i hope to have, at least to some extent, a relaxing weekend. i'm not sure i have the energy for work tonight, but my shifts at the deco are the only consistent thing i have at the moment. i have an interview for a day job at burger king in gunwharf on friday. i'm hoping i can maintain this 'new leaf' attitude until then. i'm sure my things i love thursday tomorrow will give a much more complete picture of how things have been.

this has all been a little abstract and fragmented. i'm sure i'll get back to myself sooner or later.

'...there is an idea of a patrick bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though i can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel my flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: i simply am not there. it is hard for me to make sense on any given level. myself is fabricated, an aberration. i am a noncontingent human being. my personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent.'


-bret easton ellis, american psycho.

finally finished reading american psycho and it strikes me that on a textual level, it performs what it attempts to convey. as a reader, you're as bored shitless with the listing and comparing of labels, wishy washy eighties yuppie-pop reviews, and mundane conversations displayed as bateman is; so you start skimming the texts and reading only in detail the murder and the rape, because they sear into your brain, they're the only thing in the text you're not desensitized entirely to. you become complicit with bateman's way of thinking.

few laughs involved, but it mostly felt like box-ticking. that quote did make me think though; it sounds to the untrained or unthinking eye very much like the musings of a traditionally perceived psychopath, but i think at times in life we've all felt equally strongly about people only ever seeing things that aren't us. and about whether there really is anything else to see.

things are a struggle at the moment. i'm not doing anything i should be doing, like sleeping or eating or attending necessary things. i can't seem to find anything that makes me happy and i'm desperately trying not to let myself wall myself off. people ask if i'm alright and i lie, i have to because you can't just burst into tears without a reason, people don't understand it. but i don't know why i feel so deadened at the moment, i really don't.

i may or may not be coming to rely almost exclusively on jacques derrida for solutions to life's problems. this was a serendipitous find on a study break, and seems to constructively and articulately make a case i've been trying to put forward for years.

i've had a really busy week and am now seriously cramming on the reading front. after a stupendously drunken friday (never enter a drinking contest angry at the world, you'll probably publicly embarass yourself), a moderately drunken saturday was had which resulted in me sleeping in a bed that wasn't mine, in the company of the one i refer to as an old friend. it was strange, i don't know if he noticed, but every time i attempted to say something it was like my train of thought snapped halfway through; and i'd finish up with 'but, yeah...'. my anxieties seem to constantly be at the forefront of my mind at the moment, everything i talk about turns into a working over, an attempt to see clearly; and frustratingly, it usually fails. i don't like the idea of having exposed any frailty though; it'd already be pretty easy to see me as young mess with a lack of direction, i don't need to help perpetuate that image.

anyway, sore and smiling on sunday morning, i breezed through the farmer's market, bought cake, and came home to read lacan in bed. i had a nice afternoon talking to my housemates about cooking, we seem to finally be settled into a pattern of mutual responsibility. i spent the evening at grace's with pear cake and pink wine, and we discussed pretty much everyone and everything. it's strange, i was referred to earlier this week as 'charitable of spirit', by someone i've known for a long time, and i've been thinking about it ever since. the word charitable feels a little like a backhanded compliment, implying that perhaps, while i do have patience and empathy, that i'm applying it too generously. to people who maybe don't deserve it, is what i mean to say. and talking with grace made me think about that, about how my patience doesn't seem to run out with certain people in my life, when really it should.

but then, if i wasn't patient and prone to excessive thought, i don't necessarily think i'd be me at all. looking back at defining eras of my life, i realize that most of the difficulties i've endured have been a result of waiting and pondering. i think it's why i attract a lot of rash, have-it-now people to my life, mind. and there are a lot of them around. the world needs a few people who are willing to sit back and wait and listen. the world probably needs a few more of them, reflecting on it.

i feel, most definitely, at the moment, like i'm sitting and waiting for things. i've been informed a bit more about the nature of the problem that roy's parents have with this livejournal, and have consulted the previous entries that have caused offence. i did actually lose patience with my mother on friday because she told me not to write about what's occuring. i think she understood immediately the mistake she'd made. i may not be a very good writer, but writing, often to the void in the case of this (which by the way, very difficult to find if you're searching for me on google, let's hypothetically say in order to stir shit) online journal, is a coping mechanism of mine that i am not prepared to give up. i've had people endeavour to intimidate me into shutting up many a time before, and it didn't work then, so regardless of how many solicitor's letters i'm pelted with, it's not going to happen this time. i have never been particularly easy to push around, because, with patience, comes stubbornness.

the thing that is really rather winding me up about it, in all honesty, is that nothing that has caused contention can be said to be untrue. every single thing can be verified b evidence the police or my mother have in their possession, and the sheer fact that i wrote about roy's death is not remarkable, because so did the northamptonshire chronicle and echo. i know i oughtn't even to have my thoughts occupied with what's happening here, because it's dignifying actions that i perceive as calculated, morbid, and spiteful, but i can't help working it over, working it through, continuously.

anyway, i had to blurt that all out, it's been weighing on my mind while i'm trying to read, and consequently interfering with the education i'm endeavouring to get. what i would like to do tonight is find someone devastatingly attractive and interesting to go for a beer with, after i've finished my reading. but let's be realistic, i live in portsmouth. so i shall probably go catch up my coworkers and do some last minute queer theory reading. still, that'll be nice, too.

i hate being late with these, but better late than never, or so they say. this week has been so hectic, i've got some vile cold, plus i've been really busy with radio show, work, masters studying, that i've had little to no time to myself. i'm hoping that using my time constructively over the weekend will lift the burden somewhat

so yeah, here's what's been floating my boat this week:

sleeping excessively.
i've been scheduling my days around long bouts of sleep to try and battle this ridiculous cold. it's been much needed and i've started to see the difference in my skin and eyes cos before i wasn't getting nearly enough.




stewart lee may well be the king. i'm just saying. plus, comedy about comedy? how meta.

finding out i can do things i didn't think i could do.
remaining calm under criticism/persecution, moving barrels, understanding a lacan piece on first reading despite having always found his language use really frustrating.



i've been listening to this song (pete shelley:telephone operator) almost non stop for about a week now. the quality on this video is a bit fail, you'll have to turn it up, but oh, my god, the video made me crack up. oh, eighties technology.

honorary mentions:

terms of endearment from unexpected sources, a fistful of free pocket penguins, getting my teeth stuck into lacan on poe, lara's chilli, mini primark spree action to celebrate a new term, free fairytales with the guardian all week, chai latte, peach kernel oil as moisturiser, people being supportive about this ridiculous data protection act thing, talking to my dad for the first time in ages, remembering i can still speak some german, orange juice by the gallon, loving the sound of lever arch files, entertaining sordid thoughts while talking to someone (it's especially fun if you make eye contact), jelly beans, knitting again with cream chunky wool, vivid and bizarre fever dreams, floral china, doing the annoying 'no you're a...' comeback to the point where people start prefixing every noun in a sentence with 'you're a' to prevent you doing it (ie.' is it the you're a machine head that's broken?'), actually going out drinking with benjyface for the first time in ages, gale's apricot country wine, recording for the show with joel, leigh, squidge, and sam trash who i proceeded to thoroughly embarass, sending a text to my mum when she was sad consisting of 'you're more awesome than awesome pie made with awesome fruit from the awesome tree and i love you despite your stench', compiling a playlist that soundtracks my revelling in my sins, jamie kasper recognizing my voice from the radio and the subsequent conversation: 'you know, i thought it was a person who was actually like that, not someone playing a character.', 'oh no, i am actually like that.', 'really?!? you want a sambuca?', seeing mollyie ben after he passed his fitness test for the police (his little face!), being told my angle on the language of economic exchange and homosexuality as a radical opt out from a scenario of reproduction and productivity was really interesting, talking to ellie and realizing i'm not the only one who doesn't always feel entirely sure of themselves on the course, being told by the number seven newbies that i'm fun to hang out with, my new gross neon yellow/green high waisted puff skirt, menu planning again for the first time in forever.

'perhaps this is because i never have relationships with girls-only relations. it depresses me to think that i've never had sex with anyone who really loved me. sometimes i wonder if having sex with a girl who doesn't love me is like felling a tree, alone, in a forest: no one hears about it; it didn't happen.'

--jonathan safran foer, a primer for the punctuation of heart disease.

the other day my local shop (it's directly under my flat) was giving away pocket penguin books with every copy of the guardian they sold. the next day i went in and the woman behind the counter invited me to pick up as many as i liked out of the box, so i took one of everything i didn't have, smiled graciously and asked how she knew i wanted them. she said 'i just figured you were that type', and i toddled off to the pub feeling bemused, wondering what signals it is i give off that make me look like i live in books, even when i'm at my most casual, buying cigarettes and a newspaper, or a four pack of cider.

the short story i quoted above is one i read from these pocket penguins on the train home from university yesterday. it's from the unabridged pocketbook of lightning by jonathan safran foer, and is a story that explores familial communication, through analysis of silences and substitute phrases. i particularly like safran foer's engagement with the unsaid, there's something almost psychoanalytical about the way he engages with the gaps in conversation. i picked out a few other quotes that struck me, and they have to do with communication too:

'i've been thinking about that conversation ever since, and i've come to understand - with a straining heart - that i, too, am becoming a yes-man, and that, like my father's and my brother's, my surrender has little to do with the people i say yes to, or with the existence of questions at all. it has to do with a fear of dying. with rehearsal and preparation.'

'familial communication has to do with failures to communicate. it is common that in the course of a conversation one of the participants will not hear something the other has said. it is also quite common that one of the participants will not understand what the other has said. somewhat less common is one participant's saying something whose words the other understands completely but whose meaning is not understood at all.'

'sometimes - when i'm in the car, or having sex, or talking to one of them on the phone - i imagine their should-have versions. i sew them together into a new life, leaving out everything that ever actually happened and what was said.

it seems particularly pertinent that the first short story i reached for out of my new acquisitions was this; an examination of omissions and additions in communication, particularly in a familial sense. because, yesterday, as i was sat on the train, drinking chai and eating shit supermarket sushi, i got a phonecall from m mother, and it transpires that my little corner of the internet, where i govern the silences, the spoken and unspoken, ie' this here livejournal, has yet again, become a familial bone of contention.

the problem is thus: the parents of my deceased stepfather, roy ure (recap for the uninitiated, it's been just over a year since he hung himself in salcey forest roughly three weeks after he married my mother) have contacted my father. with a letter from a solicitor, stating that my livejournal, in discussing roy's death and the surrounding events, has violated the data protection act.

i have a problem with this on several levels. number one: how can i have conceivably violated the data protection act? this is opinion based, and any actual event i have stated as actually having happened, actually did happen. number two: i am a 21 year old, who cannot in anyway be excused responsibility for my own actions, and consequently, the letter should have come to me. number three: i have googled endless combinations of things they might know about me in conjunction with my name, roy's name, my brother's name, and my mother's name, and this still do not appear on the search results. now i know that i have put this online for all to see, and i am not disturbed by anyone finding it, but they must have searched damned hard to find me, which suggests going out of their way to cause trouble. number four: my dad is in no way anything to do with them. and there is no conceivable legitimate way they could have come upon his address. consequently they must have actively searched for him too, and i can only assume it was in order to create conflict within my family unit.

normally i reserve judgement and endeavour to take a more holistic view of a situation, but i think i'm entitled to give my knee-jerk reaction to this scenario. i feel a mixture of disgust and pity for these people, which is slowly turning to contempt. i understand the loss of a son is a terrible thing to deal with, and it leaves a hole in life that won't ever be filled, really. but these people have persistently hounded my mother for possessions, for documents, for money, for a person to blame in the case of the inquest. and in all honesty, my mother has borne up under it admirably. i have been consistently impressed with her dignity and tact in not giving them a reaction to use against her. and now, to search out and deliberately try to provoke conflict using me? i find that galling. i mean, i am in no way afraid. i have done nothing wrong, and i hate to sound like i am blowing my own trumpet here, but they've made a mistake in picking me as the family member to try and intimidate. all throughout my family's bereavement i have remained the most rational and level headed. this is in no way due to the fact i didn't care, or was emotionally detached. this is due to my inherent capacity for dealing with the fact that life can be brutal and unforgiving. i am strong enough in myself to deal with every attempt that is made intentionally or unintentionally to knock me down. there isn't much i'm afraid of anymore. i will take this in my stride.

but the audacity of it, is what is offending me. when my family unit is endeavouring to move on, to help my mother heal and become as strong as she always was again, these people are deliberately trying to sabotage it. i understand they've lost their child, and i understand how much that must hurt. but, at the time of roy's death, he wasn't speaking to them because of a lot of the hurtful things they'd done to him. and consequently, i'm viewing this as an attempt on their behalf to exorcize their own demons, to assuage any guilt they may feel. and that is not fair. there are healthier ways to do that than to fuck with the lives of other human beings in a childish and reactionary manner.

i haven't written anything negative about roy anyway. i'm not going to get on my soapbox and start defending my writing; that puts me in a position of weakness. but all i've ever done is try to make sense of my reality, try to understand it.

there is, perversely, an upside to this whole ridiculous mess. and that, my friends, is the fact that it's shown me that while i come from one of the most dysfunctional family units on the planet, it is still essentially comprised of good, caring human beings. my father, upon receipt of the letter, apparently expressed sympathy with my mother, told her it looked like 'the work of madmen'. it's good to know that while my parents may not love each other anymore, they're still quite willing to look out for each other when faced with an external threat. it would take a lot more than other people's hate and misdirected anger to annhilate my family as a collective, i guess. we're not in the habit of responding to other people's manipulation of us to create conflict; we've had family therapy and already had it done to us, we know how it works. there was a time when internal resentments threatened to destroy our foundations, but as a group i think we're learning all the time, we're in places that work for us, and that's not so much of a problem anymore. we're a family comprised almost exclusively of adults now, and we see that we're not perfect, but we don't expect perfection. it's a good system, and i'm proud to be a part of it.

some might consider it obnoxious and rash of me to have written about this on here. but, i truly am not afraid of any consequences this may have. i'm not scared to claim my right to a voice. i'm not scared of other people attempting to use me as a punchbag because they can't vent their anger and sadness constructively.

if you're reading this don and muriel, i am not afraid of you. i have no reason to be. it is neither my fault, nor my family's fault that your son died. in roy's last moments he was in dialogue with himself and nobody else had any bearing on what he chose to do. he made the decision to take his life, and that is a difficult fact to accept, for all of us, but pointing fingers and attempting to create fights will neither bring him back nor make anyone happy. if it would really give you satisfaction to saddle the blame squarely on my family's shoulders, go ahead and do it. we can take it, because your blame doesn't matter to us and is a manifestation of your need to make sense of what's happened. we're moving on with lives which you are not, and should not be a part of, and you genuinely ought to consider taking a leaf out of our own books and trying hard to make the best of what you still have left, instead of dwelling on the negative side of things and trying to make everybody else do so too. it's disrespectful to those who have died to reject the rest of your life and stay in a stubborn state of refusal to move on. but if you insist on spending your time, money, and emotional resources on trying to create trouble for 21 year old girls, i'm willing to accept that, and i even sympathize and forgive you.

the guardian is giving away fairytales every day this week, so my mornings have consisted of a short burst of magic and grotesque with my coffee this weekend. it's put an interesting slant on my days. it's interesting to read outside of my usual areas of interest, and if i had any confidence in my powers of prose construction, i might be tempted to endeavour a few reworks. i often wish i could write properly, not just carefully considered relaying of my life, but something that could stand alone, be admired or enjoyed in its own right. i guess a lot of people probably feel that urge to say something and have people listen. maybe if i got off my arse sometime and tried, maybe if i was brave, i'd be alright. but i'm many things, introspective, contemplative, empathic, dependable, none of which are ideal starting points for bravery.

i keep getting told that this week i've been quieter than usual. i guess maybe i have. partly it's due to the fact i think i'm coming down with something, partly i'm ascribing it to retreating back inside my head a lot of the time. i feel like in conversations i'm not 'all there', so to speak, at the moment. half of me is working over theory in the back of my mind, or doing what it does best and applying it to totally irrelevant situations in my everyday life.

last night i went out and it was one of those fall-flat nights. it was only decided after lizzy and i spent the day on the sofa drinking jesus juice and watching films (goodbye lenin is amazing, incidentally, and provided me some gratuitous euro-boy eye candy) that we would go to chaos on lara's guestlist. it got to about 9 and the sauce had run out so we decided to spring on down to the deco and see what the crack was there before we went out dancing.

i think i exhibited my detachment in spades there. normally i'm well in control of the ebb and flow of conversation, i can navigate it; be polite to people who interject but maintain the conversation i was having, keep male attention at bay whilst simultaneously manipulating it to my advantage, stand tall, confident, animated in the face of things. but yesterday i let myself be carried, i let the wave of conversational movement suck me under and drag me through the evening, giving half my attention to whoever was in front of me, letting myself be manhandled and petted and fawned over like some kind of housepet, looking saucer-eyed and absent. i noticed things i shouldn't have, behaviours i didn't think i wanted to see from someone, but when i interrogated myself i decided i maybe like being watched, having my arm touched, i maybe like feeling like territory. that's something i need to get rid of. i need to stop having this stupid half-meaningful thing, stop taking people who are bad for me semi-seriously.

the wedgewood rooms was interesting. two cherry bakewell tasting cocktails and suddenly feeling hammered is not a good way to start. the barmaid said she felt guilty for not serving me so fast because i'm always so nice and that made me feel good about myself; it's always pleasing to know that sometimes you don't have to be the squeaky wheel to get the grease. that's been something that's troubled me a lot lately. lara was talking about buddhism and karma on friday, but i can't honestly say i believe in it, because, as i put it to her; 'everybody i regard as a bad person, i mean, a really bad person, has a lovely life.'. i didn't add that i've seen too many awful things happen to too many good people to countenance the idea that everyone's living the life they deserve. but i am struggling at the moment, with the simultaneous realization that if i were a character type i would be neither protagonist nor antagonist, but merely a foil, and the realization that most people who have everything they want have exerted some degree of force to get it. i know that sounds embittered, but i don't necessarily mean it in that way. i think true assertiveness, however, always has some element of aggression to it that i find jarring. the idea of thrusting oneself forward; even the phrase has an element of the violent to it.

i know it would be easy to question me on why i don't change, if i've noticed that the haves play offensively, and the have-nots sit around like me waiting patiently to be noticed. i mean, don't get me wrong, i don't feel deprived, but i do feel that a lot of my strengths and talents go entirely unnoticed a lot of the time. the main reason i haven't changed the way i live, is because i was brought up to believe that the only person you really have to answer to is yourself, in the mirror. if you can look at yourself in the mirror and conclude that you still like yourself and can live with being in that skin, you're doing ok. and i can do that. i'm sure if i changed my behaviour, forced my ideas and creations on people, i wouldn't be able to. so for the minute i'm quite content to be the foil, i can wait to be found interesting. i learned patience very young. it's one of the things in life i'm very grateful for.

mirrors brings me nicely to why i disappeared last night. after lizzy left, drunk, and everyone else i might have contemplated having a conversation with had disappeared, i went out for a smoke, then decided to get a glass of water and survey the situation. this led to me looking at myself in the mirror and concluding that i looked absolutely horrendous; returning to the room in disgust at my appearance and my surroundings, and stalking purposefully and drunkenly home to listlessly pore through elle while eating wine gums and listening to the smiths (note to self: this activity is counterproductive).

this makes me sound unhappy with my lot. i'm not. i'm quite happily sat in bed, sleepily reading paul ricoeur and eating chocolate, it's just some nights out i feel detuned from everyone else's wavelength. and coupled with wrestling with what i want compared to what other people want from me is sometimes very tiring indeed. anyway, back to literary theory for tuesday. that's at least somewhat safer.