No-vember.

I have not written on this thing for a long time; I should write on it more.



So I shall.



Having abandoned the library in favour of a slow and thoughtful walk home (and an admirable avoidance of reading Virginia Woolf) I have had an evening of 'relaxation'. Well, as close to relaxation as I can get.



I keep getting headaches. I am thinking lots every day and my mind keeps throwing up interesting ideas.

I see kids playing by the A3

Scrambling up the stone slope in the underpass

With that sense of urgency that a monster is coming;

Or that you're an expedition leader

The tread of your trainers scrapes cold rock

And with a burst you've bypassed

The cobwebbed white walls with the railway line on the right

Black metal veins pulsing ocassionally with life you don't know

And the light pollution adds a tint to the milky sky

Sickly mix of orange and deepening grey

Black branches; useless capillaries reaching up to

Somewhere.

I saw kids playing by the A3.

The significance of the place is a mystery to me.

I may have a stab at writing 'stream of consciousness' narration. It makes me feel a little less crazy when I read Woolf and Joyce. It also makes me feel a littles less unique. Not sure how I feel about that.

Clocks Go Back.

And you might as well have been

Threading my soul through that wooden reed

Guiding it with your fingertips

And letting it sing so sweetly

Burgundy skirts torn to perfection

A cloud of simple human nature

Pirouette my darling and dance with me

Flags billow and whisper

We're free.

What a crazy few weeks. Not knowing whether I'm coming or going; and generating enough stress to power a sizeable turbine.

My lovely weekend started in a purple 'new' Mini Cooper, made a stop at a beautiful leaf-littered cricket pitch and gorgeous country pub in Sevenoaks, careered its way down numerous motorways and roads before briefly coming to a halt at my house. Cue tea, Mexican food, Mum, Dad, sister, belated birthday presents, labradors, more tea and a midnight bedtime. This stop, albeit brief, was much needed and reaffirmed my affection and love for family and home.

A haircut, new hair colour, shopping, a visit from family friends and a scrumptious (yes, I did just use that word) jacket potato preceded another antic-filled, alcohol-fuelled night of DILLIGAF family madness. Ring of Fire saw Joe in bed by 10.30pm; Tom downing a vase of JD, Coke and Stella; then much cake, dancing, balloons and not forgetting face paint:

So, ideas. I've had a few of them lately, but they've kind of been buried beneath stress and worry and procrastination. They include:

* Ideas for photo shoots. One in particular consists of me photographing head shots of people with their favourite lyrics scrawled on their face. It occurred to me how much I love quoting lyrics and snippets of wonderful stuff that people stay. My Dalai Lama poster informs me that you should share your knowledge as it is a way to achieve immortality. True that. I was also thinking that we come into this world as a blank canvas, and leave it shaped and formed by words.

* Butterfly milk and bumblebee tea. Not as a potential product for the beverage market. Just a phrase myself and Steph Kitchiner came up with in one of our random in-car conversations.

*Autumnal stuff. Leaves, gold, red, colours, smell of fresh earth, rain, nights drawing in.

That's a pick of the bunch. There's a lot more nestled in my mind somewhere if you move some of the boxes around and peer through some windows.

Snippets.

My imperfections lie beneath my fingernails
Scabs and skin harvested in a frantic sweep
My hair is dishevelled by the same thin tools
And my only desire is to fall asleep.

__________________________________


Negative thoughts as chasm filler
Spread them on thick
But the cracks get bigger.

__________________________________


Fairy lights cast colours on bits of yesterday
Pinned into cork to make sure I don’t forget.
All eyes on me; for once this is a comfort.

__________________________________

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Actions speak louder than words
Love is better than obsession
Sparking brain patterns leading into nothing but confusion and pointless random typing spilling guts to a page on a PC that is not even paper
Preen pose giggle hold clammy hands and play fight along the Thames reading each others minds the mirror and the window

New Chapter. Same Book.

Thought I should update as I haven't in a while, and and on this Wednesday evening I am a loss as to what to do.

This summer was one of change, as most summers are.

'Whenever I come back, the air on railroad is making the same sound' [A Movie Script Ending, Death Cab for Cutie]

Lately, whenever I go to write, everything escapes me.

I am sleeping a lot, but not enough, sometimes too much. Submerged in a dream. Intoxicated by the first throes of something that I won't refer to by using the 'l' word. Partly because I'm scared to admit it, and partly because I don't want to sound like a simpering schoolgirl with a crush. You know the kind. Etching your 'beloved's' name on your exercise books and inking heart shapes on your hand with your new glitter gel pen.

Nope. No etching or simpering.

Nervous energy and oodles of spare time aren't a happy pairing. My new house is beautiful, clean and cosy- but I am vexed by the endless amount of hours that plead to be filled upon my waking up.

Creatively, I'm a bit all over the place. Ideas come and go like lights blinking on enough. Add to that the fact that I have once again misplaced my camera cable (which I only purchased a couple of months ago) and I'm at a loss.

I'd be lying if I said I felt content.

Supercalifraglisticexpialidocious!

I couldn't think of a word that summed up the week I've just had- so I stole one from Mary Poppins. She won't mind.

Where to start? Folk Week was, as it has been for the past 3 years, an incredible experience. Meeting a wide range of people of all ages and backgrounds, spending my money on alcohol and hot chocolate infused rum; not to mention all of the sausage sandwiches and burgers I stashed away after a hard night's drinking and dancing. The colour, the freedom, the movement. Truly amazing. But the best thing was the collective that I camped with.

We really were (and are) like a family. With a matriarch with a passion for vodka and a daddy figure with a kind heart, us 'children' were definitely on to a winner. The youngest being 15, and the oldest being 63, we really did span a wide range of ages! But the barriers all melted away and we indulged in water fights, singalongs and story telling.

I am starting to realise who I am and what I love, which is so refreshing; if not a little scary. I intend to transfer the freedom I feel at festivals such as this and nurture it so that it becomes a fixed part of my every day life. I'm starting to have more ideas regarding where I want to go after university; although I am now a firm believer in not looking too far ahead. Why would you want to do that when you could be living in the moment?

So, in general, I feel enlightened and happy. And it's great. This summer may not have been an extravaganza, but it's been emotional and educational. I'm itching to get back to university and back to my friends, new house and course. For once I feel that I've got some direction.
The funny thing is that I'm actually itching- I'm covered in insect bites following a week camping in a school field.

Priceless.

Defective Refridgerator.

I want to be a tower of strength, like a shining, smooth refridgerator. Cool, calm and collected. Keeping things fresh.
I have no idea what I'm on about. Bear with me.
But I worry that someone will pull the cable out of the back of me, and all of that coolness will go. Then everything I've worked so hard to preserve will go rancid.

Anyway, in other news, Folk Week is edging nearer. Colours, morris men, rum and hot chocolate, friendly strangers, dancing, stars, tents, beer, cider, laughter, free spirits, poi, lights, dresses... yes.
I'm a bit 50/50 in terms of whether or not I'm looking forward to it. Much has changed in a year, but I like to think for the better.
Very dry creatively; my main idea has been a personification of the cafe where I work. Rough notes include:

Raspberry ripple stretch marks
Each dirty table the cut on the knee of a youngster, needing attention and cleanliness
Customers' orders the wishlist of a wanting child

Blah. I should write more down.

Easyworld and Restlessness.

I went to Warwick Folk Festival this weekend. Whilst not as free-spirited as my beloved Broadstairs Folk Week (which is creeping ever closer), it was an enjoyable experience. Above are some photos.

I feel like I could write everything and nothing all at once. I am feeling rather restless and indecisive, which isn't great. I have this desire to write but I have no idea where to begin or even if I should. Sigh.