August 3rd, 2004


One of these days...

... I'll send that email I keep writing.

It changes every time I write it. And sometimes writing it is a cathartic experience, and sometimes it just reinforces all the hopelessness. Sometimes it's only two lines long. Other times it's page after page after page.

Sometimes it has teeth, and it's too close for comfort. Sometimes it has eyes, and they're glowing blood-red in the dark small hours. Sometimes it's just the husk of words that ripened and fell to the forest floor when nobody was listening. And sometimes it has wings, and it hovers just out of reach, and it's then that I'm most afraid to send it, because I know I'd never get it back again.

Send. Don't send. Keep writing, keep talking, keep dropping pennies into the well. Make a wish, make a promise, make a bet, make amends, make a move, make a gods-cursed mess of the whole damn thing, make a monster you can't control, make one spark in the dark, make your mark.

Sometimes it's the last thing I write. And other times it's the first.

Learning to cry for fun and profit

No food in the house. No energy to go out and buy food, or to do anything interesting instead. Will probably be awake till 3am again now though because of the caffeine; I thought it would be worth staying awake today, despite the sore throat and cough and cold, despite the tiredness.

Currently bidding on things I can't afford on eBay, so that I get new email when I get outbid.

* * *

I love this user icon, I can still remember the crackly heat of the room where the photo was taken, dry and thick and heavy. The dusty blinds, the pools of sunlight, the hard floors. The room was a hollow shell, a skin that somebody else's life had sloughed off, used and discarded and empty.

In so many of my memories I'm only an onlooker, a recorder of detail; I wish I could achieve the same distance from the here and now. But the only thing I can do is keep shuffling off my memories into the past, faster and faster, until there's nothing here in the room with me but dust and heat and light.

Questions are a burden to others, answers a prison for oneself

Dunno why this won't turn into a proper poll, the markup looks fine to me. Oh well, you'll just have to do-it-yourself.

1. Which of the following is most likely to help me sleep?
[ ] hot bath
[ ] trashy books
[ ] gin
[ ] herbal sleeping tablets (valerian and wild lettuce or something like that)
[ ] diazepam (past its best-before date, but never mind)
[ ] a blow to the head with a blunt object
[ ] lots of lemsip and sudafed and paracetamol and aspirin so I can actually breathe properly & my throat doesn't hurt all the fucking time

2. I was going to go and see a friend tomorrow but I don't think I'd be very good company at the moment, I don't think I'm up to much in the way of socialising. Should I:
[ ] just tell them I don't feel like going out
[ ] make up some feeble excuse about having too much work (which would actually be sort of true as well)
[ ] go anyway and be miserable
[ ] go anyway and pretend to be in a good mood
[ ] go anyway and hope that they can lift my spirits a bit

3. Okay, I got bored between question 1 and this one, so I already started on the gin. Should I:
[ ] Keep drinking! Everything looks better through the bottom of a bottle
[ ] Keep drinking, but for god's sake switch to the cheap party-profit gin instead of wasting the Plymouth
[ ] Keep drinking, but not gin
[ ] Stop drinking and go for one of the other sleep strategies mentioned in question 1
[ ] Stop drinking and do something completely different

4. The same old question. Should I:
[ ] Give up?
[ ] Give up?
[ ] Give up?