I'm not in love with Twiggy

The day, to be perfect:

- I'm home alone. I've rented three videos: Morvern Callar, The Hours, Final Destination 2.
- I take a long bath, listening to Kevin's walkman. The water is filled with Honey & Vanilla bubbles, thanks to Sainsbury's.
- I'm orgasomatic.
- I eat a boiled egg, three slices of baked bread, strawberry yogurt, some salted peanuts and cashew nuts. And Earl Grey tea with milk and honey.
- I'm now drinking Fanta Lemon in an Orangina glass.
- The time will come for us to die, no memories left to cry... let us burn and smoulter too.
- All I wanted was to be free... music was my only joy.
- I'm contemplating the bananas in the glass bowl, just to my right.
- I won't forgive any politicians today.
- Sunday television sucks. We taped Ed Wood last night. Carrie, from Sex and the City was in it.
- I like being on my own. I enjoy my control over silence.
- I hate people who talk just to fill up space. If you have nothing to say, shut the fuck up. And don't fucking repeat yourself otherwise I'll smash your head through the window, tear your guts out, serve you to the crows that perch on the neighbouring roofs.
- I feel peaceful and happy.
- I might rent more movies tonight.

You Ain't a Baby No More, Baby

I came here to talk, to explain. I wanted to remember the movies, the feeling of the blanket over my body. I came to retell the passing of the afternoon into the evening, but

I've forgotten something.

I came here to smash it up, yes pretty. When I'm down I feel like writing. Because I'm not down, i'm not writing (what I want to say, what I want to mean with the sound of the words.)

There's a girl out there who knows I want to smash it up.

I took the videos back, retelling the stories of my childhood, rethinking the words that I would then place on this journal. I made myself coffee with Tia Maria, and I have a half-full bottle of white wine in the fridge. I listened to part of Attack of the 80s... OF COURSE! I could see myself on a stage, with a band, singing Transvision Vamp's I Don't Care. It's that good.

I want somebody to come here and give me sweet sweet kisses. It was so lonely to walk to the videostore, in a cold London night. By the gas station I saw on the concrete sidewalk a ripped page from a gay porn magazine. I should have picked it up, crumbled it and throw it into the bin. There's been plenty of porn on the streets, plenty of advertisements for sex in this city. Nobody is getting it; everyone has to pay. Sex is free for me, and yet it's sunday, I'm alone, and watch you gonna do darling?

The night promises more gore, more bodies violated, more deaths and crime.

The night promises ( Read more... )