1. smoke only roll-ups
2. taste blood and guts in everything
3. get more sleep at more appropriate times
4. 20,000 words
5. read only one book at a time and start only one book at a time: for example, i shall finish "beyond black" before opening "the death of the heart," no matter how tempting the synopsis seems
6. keep rockin' the quiff
7. save (some) money
8. read up on greek myths, and casually slip intelligent-sounding references to them into conversation/writing
9. keep dancing like a shaman/drunk in public without fear or vomit
10. live strong always
11. regret/accept/continue
12. buy that marilyn monroe boxset i saw in hmv last week if it's still there as it was a really good deal
13. read more biographies
14. work on a new smile because my genuine smile leaves me looking like an unfortunate blind person also blighted by down's syndrome. however do not be afraid to genuinely smile (and thus look like a spastic) if having THAT wild a time
15. self-respect is more fun and more cool than loss of dignity at the expense of vodka/men/enemies
16. write stupid shit like this either more or less often, i'm not sure.
Thursday 31 December 2009
Thursday 17 December 2009
something written slightly drunk at 2a.m. last nite
And the tree say,
buh-bye,
And the wind rushing
thru them, repeats it.
And the stray cats
they howl,
buh-bye, buh-bye, buh-bye,
As they fuck and break my sleep.
You in my ear,
"Goodbye," your voice
slick with previous tears,
slick like oil.
Your hand upon my shoulder,
brief as fireworks,
did not linger.
Your fingers trace
no patterns down my neck.
Your eyes whisper it,
and the traffic outside
bellows it:
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
For this is the end,
the final crack in the mirror.
I look forward to
seven years of bad luck.
This is our final resting place,
is it?
This, a sad cafe
of chattering families
of red and white linoleum
in a building I do not
understand?
Why did you bring me here?
If you were to have said
your piece, your bullet,
before, or an hour later,
I would not
have ordered a starter.
buh-bye,
And the wind rushing
thru them, repeats it.
And the stray cats
they howl,
buh-bye, buh-bye, buh-bye,
As they fuck and break my sleep.
You in my ear,
"Goodbye," your voice
slick with previous tears,
slick like oil.
Your hand upon my shoulder,
brief as fireworks,
did not linger.
Your fingers trace
no patterns down my neck.
Your eyes whisper it,
and the traffic outside
bellows it:
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
For this is the end,
the final crack in the mirror.
I look forward to
seven years of bad luck.
This is our final resting place,
is it?
This, a sad cafe
of chattering families
of red and white linoleum
in a building I do not
understand?
Why did you bring me here?
If you were to have said
your piece, your bullet,
before, or an hour later,
I would not
have ordered a starter.
Monday 14 December 2009
above all else, xmas in salisbury 09
Very brief entry: something I wrote rapidly earlier and really liked the sound of. God knows -
"A lover, a playmate, the pioneer of our dark sciences that I, ever bashful, fell head-first into. I crash like airplanes and RW is all of these things. The pieces of July slot together and I see his face again. I linger, I remain, sweating and sleepless through another night. A different city, a different town, and always the same. He was a prince and a dog, and I a feral child. Oh RW, beatified by the rain on his face and my hallucinations of romance and trembling hands."
"A lover, a playmate, the pioneer of our dark sciences that I, ever bashful, fell head-first into. I crash like airplanes and RW is all of these things. The pieces of July slot together and I see his face again. I linger, I remain, sweating and sleepless through another night. A different city, a different town, and always the same. He was a prince and a dog, and I a feral child. Oh RW, beatified by the rain on his face and my hallucinations of romance and trembling hands."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
