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Star Crazy
Mar. 22nd, 2003 05:19 pm"Celebrity is just another form of loneliness."
- Henry Miller
- Henry Miller
Mar. 22nd, 2003
Strutting Trash
Mar. 22nd, 2003 05:23 pmToday was a beautiful sunny day. Spring started yesterday... but it seems like a week ago. Lucky huh? But London is as deceptive as a whore with a razor blade. Something will get chopped off soon, something will be poured away from us. The sky will close down, the reservoirs will burst, the pile-ups in the freeways will grow - and nobody will be sorry. Here, have another dose of words. They keep coming and coming, flooding you and leaving no marks.
Today was a day of labour, of finding will to step outside and return two library books. The sun was punishing, the cars overwhelming, the recycling box left behind by the front door... perfectly insulting. Here, I don't have much but you can take these words. They won't feed you, they won't amuse you for long. Take them and let me know when they begin sprouting tendrils, when they smother you in your sleep.
Today wanted to be Class A... but ended up Class B. Today was cooled by the leftovers of winter, the dirty prams pushed around by teenage mothers, the tired faces of the pensioners... the ones that didn't make it to the Anti-War protest. And me. Today, a spread-apart afternoon was wasted on the Internet. All the promises for looking at good sites, but the mind is just rubbish rubbish rubbish these days! Here, take this final pile of words. Stuff them in the bathtub, boil them alive, skin them with your blunt scissors. Here, take these words and cremate them. I won't cry. I only do that in real funerals...
Today was as "beatiful as the chance encounter on a dissecting table of a sewing machine and an umbrella." - Lautreamont.
Today was a day of labour, of finding will to step outside and return two library books. The sun was punishing, the cars overwhelming, the recycling box left behind by the front door... perfectly insulting. Here, I don't have much but you can take these words. They won't feed you, they won't amuse you for long. Take them and let me know when they begin sprouting tendrils, when they smother you in your sleep.
Today wanted to be Class A... but ended up Class B. Today was cooled by the leftovers of winter, the dirty prams pushed around by teenage mothers, the tired faces of the pensioners... the ones that didn't make it to the Anti-War protest. And me. Today, a spread-apart afternoon was wasted on the Internet. All the promises for looking at good sites, but the mind is just rubbish rubbish rubbish these days! Here, take this final pile of words. Stuff them in the bathtub, boil them alive, skin them with your blunt scissors. Here, take these words and cremate them. I won't cry. I only do that in real funerals...
Today was as "beatiful as the chance encounter on a dissecting table of a sewing machine and an umbrella." - Lautreamont.
