Black Satin

Sun explodes on my skin
I don't like the state I'm in
Trying to catch the perfect wave
It's coming now, come on let's rave
But I drown, yeah I drown

Out all day, all in vain
Pale skin, sun causes pain
The water's cold, deep, and black
Down again, board's cracked
And I drown, yeah I drown

Look who's here, to save my soul
Sweet night, she's on a roll,
Covers me with all her black
Satin dress, takes me aback
And I drown, yeah I drown

Such a chilled, mellow song. Haunting guitars perfect for 2am listening.

Music- The Raveonettes- Black Satin

xxx

December Snow

This is the first December of my 18 (and a bit) years that I have seen snow- and my, has it snowed! The last three days have turned Hampstead into a stunningly pretty scene from a Dickensian village, with flurries falling over the last 3 days amid the 19th Century style lamposts and cobbled alleys. I am in love with the English winter once more. I realise that this may not sound as impressive as you had hoped, but for England this amount of frozen precipitation is quite epic. Quite romantic too, considering my recent activities of night time walks in the snow, frolicking on the Heath, and ice skating at the Tower of London. And last night, too, was lovely- G took me out as my christmas surprise; to see The Raveonettes live at the Islington Academy (a event made complete with gorgeous strawberry and vanilla M&S cupcakes, I may add).

These past few weeks have created a tentative optimism for me. They have been a lovely culmination to a semester of firm friendships formed, a new life embarked upon, and new independence enjoyed. They have shown me that despite certain difficulties, 2009 has been a good year, 18 a good age. Not everything is perfect, but it doesn't matter; I feel mature enough to know that there will always be things to overcome, but that they will eventually be overcome. I feel balanced. Finally, I am in my place. I am genuinely, unashamedly, happy.

Although, right now I do feel vaguely lost, having just recieved a tremendous shock to my system due to the vanishing of K to the motherland for 3 weeks. I will get used to it, obviously, but right now I do rather miss him.

Music- Snow Patrol- Open Your Eyes (Marky & Bungle Remix)

xxx

New Poetry

With You

These abstract bones
Latinate points of departure
Forming the cage
For muscle organs heart

Not quite alive
Unreal they are Eliot's city
Of outside parts
A web of veins blood brain

Until nearness
Of you when all of a sudden
These things in me
Become tangibly new

Every flesh all flesh
I am aware.
___________

Music- Mariah Carey- All I Want For Christmas Is You

xxx

A Shot At Poetry

My first experience of writing poetry, so please excuse any horrific errors in meter and general unfortunateness.

Temple In November

Grey melancholy suffocating
in the sky fading growing to
raging purple darkness of the
worries.

Of grown-up men and women in
this serious city swelling with fear
unlike us who are growing our
lives.

From breathless opportunity
in the sky vast endless newness
expanding the pink twilight of
youth.

________

Music- Crystal Stilts- Converging In The Quiet

xxx

The Cloistered Life

It is scary how after just over a month at university I have lost all semblance of normality, and have escaped any sense of reality and the outside world. Since I have been here my time has been consumed with university things, university people- I think I have bought a grand total of one newspaper in four weeks. I need to get my act together and realise that there is a world outside my comfortable little bubble of academia. I now understand why lecturers tend towards the slightly eccentric; a shrinking of common sense is what happens when the external world begins to have less of an impact on your day.

In other news, I have an article to write for the fashion section of my university newspaper. Saturday will be devoted to trawling Brick Lane and Spitalfields for gorgeous people decked out in gorgeous outfits; I have to take photos of them and report back on the autumnal trends. :) Sadly, it's a bit of a competition, as the editor is going to pick the best article out of the 3 or so written, so I need to find a hook to make mine stand out above the rest...

On the style front, I intend to purchase a backless crushed velvet mini-dress from Topshop. Yes, I know- student budget, pricey store, but I can't just go cold turkey on my addiction! Besides, it's only £35. Get in. ;)

The uni lot: The Middle Floor Wankers! :p

Music- The Script- Break Even (Guilty pleasuuuure!)

xxx

Trying To Lose That Stubborn Streak

In pursuit of my English degree and the poetry module which I have just embarked upon, I have taken my lecturer's advice and gone in search of a poet that I might actually like. For me poetry has always been rather dull; a mathematical, scientific form of literature, too strongly based in rhyme and rythm and the measuring of beats. I loathed the dissection of phrases, words and the structure of the poem, searching for the intention or the schematic thoughts of the poet as they put pen to paper. Frankly, I am sure they did not care so much about the inner workings of their poem. It seems to me that feeling and the magic of literature is lost in poetry; words become dry and lifeless in a way that is paradoxical to my usual excitement around language in novels or other literary forms.

Despite this, I went to the university library today (an absolutely stunning building of dazzling gothic architecture and white and gold stone), and borrowed some books. One by default- T.S. Eliot, the other by randomly shoving my hand into the bookcase- Muriel Rukeyser. And lo and behold, I have found something that thrills me. Perhaps I wasn't looking, or caring, hard enough before...

This Place In The Ways- Muriel Rukeyser

Having come to this place
I set out once again
On the dark and marvelous way
From where I began:
Belief in the love of the world,
Woman, spirit, and man.

Having failed in all things
I enter a new age
Seeing the old ways as toys,
The houses of a stage
Painted and long forgot;
And I find love and rage.

Rage for the world as it is
But for what it may be
More love now than last year.
And always less self-pity
Since I know in a clearer light
The strength of the mystery.

And at this place in the ways
I wait for song,
My poem-hand still, on the paper,
All night long.
Poems in throat and hand, asleep,
And my storm beating strong!

From... A Certain Music- Muriel Rukeyser

Naked you walked through my body and I turned
to you with this far music you now withold.
O my destroyed hope! Though I never again
hear developing heaven, the growing grave-bearing earth,
my poem, my promise, my love, my sleep after love;
my hours, listening, along that music move,
and have been saved and hardly know the cold.

Music- The poems in my head.

xxx

FUCKIN' AAAAAA!

I am at uni. It is immense. Beyond all words. Hampstead halls were not my first choice, but I wouldn't change them for the world. The people are absolutely lovely! I have done nothing but get wankered and bum around for the last few days, so consequently time has lost all meaning. :D

I look forward to the future.

Music- Madonna- Celebration

xxx

A Little Bit Of Yay

Today, despite its insecurities, has made me smile. Or, rather, a few conversations with certain people have. It’s impossible to measure the simple happiness that comes from talking to the people you love- about nothing in particular, just laughing over little things, or from getting a compliment from someone you kinda really like. :)

In other news, I am extremely excited to purchase some Henry Holland for Pretty Polly Alphabetica tights. The only question which remains is the colour in which to buy- black, blue, green, pink, or purple?

Music- Jack Penate- Tonight’s Today

xxx

4.48

Sometimes my mind struggles not to cave in on itself in wild, irrational panic.

My OCD is getting worse.

Music- My thoughts.

xxx

Escape From Suburbia

"Boys were often to be found on their knees before this icon, praying to be made into pop stars and for release from a lifetime as a motor-mechanic, or a clerk in an insurance firm, or a junior architect. But apart from Charlie, none of us had high expectations; we had a combination of miserable expectations and wild hopes. Myself, I only had wild hopes."
- 'The Buddha of Suburbia', Hanif Kureishi.

Teenage years in suburbia; bittersweet. Pious worship of popular and alternative culture, drunk on a cocktail of naivety and sexual desire. Drugs and desperation to become something, someone, in the quest of things which matter.

Music- Everything But The Girl- Missing.

xxx

Single because...

An article in a magazine I am currently reading featured four (successful and pretty) women who explained why it was thoroughly their fault why they were single, and why they are thoroughly enjoying it. I whole heartedly agreed, as I find that recently too many people I know are being defined by whether or not they are 'attached'.

In our culture, most of society is geared towards (women, especially) finding that 'perfect' date; THE ONE, him (or even her), someone who completes you, and to whom you can belong in a nice, snuggly bubble of eventual wedded bliss. It's unfortunate, but true, that if you are consistently single and proud of it, then you must be either cold and unfeeling, terribly unlucky in love, or a womanizer/man-eater. Whether or not someone has a partner changes your entire perspective of them, and definitely how you behave around them. Rules change, boundaries move. And so they should- at least in sexual terms. But they should not supersede in importance all other qualities about the person; although quite often I have seen this girlfriend/boyfriend status take over the individual's personality.

Therein lies the problem. I'm sorry, but I do not want to be defined by anyone, accidentally or not. I do not want to belong to anyone but myself. A series of unfortunate dates and relationships in my early teens left me single at the age when most other people were discovering the joys of partnerhood. This, I think, stood me in good stead for my attitude now. I was able to grow up alone, with just me to think about, just me to annoy and to be hormonal around- minus the give and take, and cooperation of a relationship. Here is where I see the key difference between me and quite a few others I know. I am perfectly OK being alone. I am happy being single. I don't constantly hanker after another to hold me up, support me. Because I know that I can do it myself.

I do not hate relationships. They can be a fun, thrilling, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of joy. The chase is exhilarating. I love the excitement that you get when you realise that the person you like might actually like you back. But I do not need this to feel normal. And, to be honest, sometimes all that stuff kind of annoys me. When you have to chase harder than the other person is chasing you, when you have to curb yourself so you don't immediately frighten them away. I am nowhere near perfect- in fact I am catastrophically flawed- but I like myself the way I am. If someone happens into my life that feels the same way about me, then great. I am not afraid to run with it. But I don't need to go looking. Yes, I understand that relationships come with compromising parts of your life, but one thing I am not willing to compromise for another person is me, myself and I.

Music- The Raveonettes- Suicide.

xxx

TATTOOOO

Yesterday I got my first tattoo, and I think it looks stunning. Drawn by Claudia Di Rossi of Frith Street Tattoo in Soho, London, it's a collection of blue flowers and olive green leaves that crawl up my shoulder. I love it so much- and it's true, they're addictive. I definately want more, soon. The pain wasn't that bad, either. There were moments when the needle went over the bone of my shoulder blade when it did hurt quite a bit, but on the whole it was just a bit uncomfortable. After a while, it even felt like a small vibration on my skin, which felt strangely nice.

I would sooo recommend the experience, and anyone who is scared should throw away their fear because it really isn't that bad. The art work you are left with, something that will always be with you and on your body, is well worth it.

I will post a picture soon, but atm my camera is fucked for some obscure reason.

Music- Miami Ink.

xxx

I Am...

Hungover
Robbed
In need of a job
Broke
Slightly embarassed
Bored
Naked

It seems to be one of those times when things are just... unfortunate. I'd call it karmic realignment. Now, I'm not a spiritual person in any way imaginable, but I can't help feeling a nagging suscpicion that the frequent and flippant rudeness that passes as my wit will eventually come round to bite me on the arse- and not in the fun way, either.

Anyway, P is coming round in a bit if he doesn't go to Church so I had better shower. I doubt he really wants to see me looking like I've just scrawled from a sweaty, heaving pit of human euphoria. Which of course, I have; Hype at Fabric was awesome.

Oh, and Rosé kills me. I have decided to become abstinent.

From wine, not from life.

Music- blaaargh

xxx

P.S.

I LOVE the A/W 09/10 collections, particularly the Parisienne trend, and almost everything by Balmain and Richard Nicoll.

If only I had the cash...

xxx

The Morning After The Night Before

Ow.

After the shenanigans of Lanzarote (of which involved a bruised face, 2 black eyes, an allergic reaction, an hospital stay, skinny dipping, and a rather unforunate first experience), I am severely hungover after another night out on the Shoreditch tiles- or grass.

My entire body hurts, and not least from my unfortunate choice of outfit; a flowery, chiffon playsuit from Topshop that required deft wriggling to get in and out of every time I got the urge to pee, and someone else to button me back up every time I left the fucking port-a-potty. Which stank, by the way. Although that's probably stating the oh-so-obvious.

Despite the agony the morning after the night before, it was a rather good day. Albeit one that only served to strengthen my resolve not to drink beer, ever. Patrick Wolf was amazing with his glitter and fantastic costumes, Ulterior definitely went up in my estimation from the shocker that was the Astoria gig. Excellent too was the failure to ever make it to an official after party, and ending up too mashed to really care. I met someone new too, which is always a plus.

Fucking A.

Music- The Subways- Rock 'N' Roll Queen

xxx

GP 09 2

I realised that I haven't reviewed my day at GP 09. In short, it was excellent, and I bought lots of memorabilia to hang in my room and hint my sexuality at my rents. However, 08 was better I thought, largely because this year was quite poorly organised, and the year before had better acts playing at the concerts. I feel that these photos appropriately sum up our day. :)

Photos courtesy of Adna. :)

Music- La Roux- Cover My Eyes.

xxx

An Evening As Mrs. Lovett

I felt like a regular Mrs. Lovett last night. Upon dying my friend's hair red I accidently splashed some on her wall, which looked alarmingly like blood splatter. We then proceeded to make a rather gorgeous wild plum pie at about 11:30 at night. It was delicious, as is most food eaten or made at midnight; shame it wasn't filled with people murdered by my barber husband, though. ;) I do have to say that no thick, foul smelling smoke erupted from her chimney, so you can be guaranteed that it was Plum Pie, not People Pie.

In other news, Lanzarote is right around the corner and I am uncharacteristically excited. I am Mary. Mary is a pessimist, and pessimists don't generally get excited. But I am, bubbling under the surface at the freedom and sheer sunshine and hedonism that awaits me and my best friend, G. In anticipation of such an event I, of course, went shopping; I bought some beautiful clothes, including a pretty, floral print love-heart neckline dress from one of the boutiques at Topshop. I also purchased some interesting vintage, including the 80's bolero I mentioned before, a red and white polkadot blouse, a straw boater, and a high waisted skirt with adorable little gold and crystal buttons which is reconstructed from old fabric. Oh, and some gold gladiator sandals from Office have become a key staple of my Summer wardrobe.

However, I found that I have rather lost the ability to fit into some of my older clothes. It's the revenge of the FUPA, and the plum pie did not really help. Still, on ordering a S on AA.com in the hopes that the top would be tight (It's the Mm top, ironic in so many ways...), I found it was horribly baggy. So now I have to send back for an XS. An XS. WTF? I have more pudding for pushing than an XS. Whatever.

Please excuse me; I am going to leap around my bedroom in my bikini to Dizzee Rascal.

IF YOU AIN'T DOING NOTHING LET'S FLY AWAYYYYY!!!! ;)

Music- Dizzee Rascal- Holiday.

xxx

GP 09

I cannot wait. Many outfits have been considered, half-baked, and then abandoned. But I feel that I have settled on a rather easier (and cheaper, considering I will essentially be wearing a sheet) costume; toga girl. The stupidly vague (sorry, Pride London- it's true) theme of 'Come Out and Play' left me with endless choices of what to be for the parade, but I think a little Greek influence in the (hopefully) sunshine will be fun.

I already own a toga which I created for an house party aeons ago, and plenty of gold woven accessories thanks to my obsession with nautical fun. But what to do for hair and make-up?

I'm feeling bright nails, false eyelashes and lashings of eyeliner. A bouffant, styled hair-do would not go a miss, either.

And of course, my rainbow flag.

Bring on the lady fun. I am here, I am queer (half), I am one step away from complete nudity; welcome to Gay Pride London.

Music- Buckcherry- Too Drunk...

xxx

P.S. In other news, I bought a super cute 80's vintage black bolero with a swirly applique design on the shoulders. It is gorgeous and I have wanted a jacket for aaaages, so I am pleased.

Therapy For The Poor

I find perfection uninteresting. Yet I crave it all the same. In others as well as my self; and when they, or I, don't meet my expectations I find that I cannot deal with it. I freak out, and I suspect it's about control. I don't know why. This is bad- because if nothing is good enough, then what is left? I can look on the situation with detachment, and I can analyse to death, but I can't change how I feel. I know that every relationship, friend or lover, goes through ups and downs, but I'm afraid that I'm running away. I want to know why I give up so easily.

Music- Magistrates- Heartbreak.

xxx

A Fantasy

I call him.

Shaking hands. Painted nails, number 001 noir. Dialling, three rings. He picks up.

"Hey."
"I was wondering if I could come over?"
"Um... yeah, of course. Sure."
"Is anyone in?"
"Er, yeah. They're downstairs. Why?"
"Do you want to come here?"

Silence.
Shaking hands. Sharp teeth nibbling on the soft skin of my lower lip. I am being forward.
His voice is darker and it sounds like a smirk.

"Yeah. I'll be there in fifteen."
He hangs up.

A moment to sit and feel the weight of the phone in my cold hands. Running down the stairs, bare feet on padded carpet, hard wooden flooring. Unlatching the door fingers quick, it is discreetly ajar, and fleeing.

Upstairs again, dizzy with hot breath too short for comfort. Undressing. I press a button. Music fills the room, a little bit cigarettes and alcohol, a little bit guitar. It is too warm. A bead of sweat appearing in the cleft of my top lip.

Black taffeta. Smooth, pale skin, the fabric rough to the touch. A contrast. Delicious. Stockings, sheer and colouring in my thighs. A tiny electric shock as a nail embeds itself in the soft whiteness of flesh. Mussed hair and kohl eyes, rouged cheeks and red mouth, wet. Perched on cream linen like a delicate and terrified bird with racing pulse fluttering against breasts, escaping in the hollow of my collar bone. I am not sure where to look.

I wait.

xxx

Music- The Horrors- Scarlet Fields

A Belated Post At 00:36

I am exhausted. Clearly the fiberoptic lure (or should I say glare?) of my computer screen was too much to resist, because I am perusing old favourites with sleep-shuttered eyes.

Anyway.

Whilst I am here...

Is it possible to have three types of people in your life: friends, friends whom you are attracted to, and others?

Let me explain my point.

For me, a person who has odd- if not a somewhat frosty- view on life and relationships, it is easy to create boundaries and distance oneself from... sticky situations. In my life I have friends. These are people with whom I share a bond, and most likely an unfortunate sense of humour and a few (too many) shots of tequila. I have friends whom I am attracted to. This is not in a "I can appreciate how others would find them attractive" kind of way; those people are simply friends. These are people whom I find attractive, and yet the relationship remains mutually platonic and I don't feel the need to jump into bed with them; primarily because I am not sexually attracted to them. And then there are the others. The people who I either do not know, have not yet met, dislike, outright loathe, would like a relationship with, or want between my.... sheets. These people might even be my friends. This works for me, and maybe I categorise my life too much, but I have distinctly different feelings for each of these people. For me it is possible to have three types of people in my life.

I hope that made some kind of sense. ;)

In other news, it's exam time. Life and people suck, but I have a rock 'n' rollin' new hairstyle- inspired by electroindiefoxtailpop starlet, La Roux.

Au revoir, ciao, auf wiedersehen, and whatever goodbye is in any other widely spoken foreign language.

I wouldn't hold your breath for another post. ;)

Music- The half-silence of 1am in suburbia.

xxx