The first thing I do in the morning is brush my teeth and sharpen my tongue

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Saturday, July 10th, 2010
4:50 pm - I can't cry with a full face of makeup on
I'm having an unnecessarily bad mental health day today. I'm cooking a three course meal for six people this evening so must take deep breaths and remind myself that the world's not ending.

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Monday, July 5th, 2010
1:54 pm
I heard a song on the radio the over the weekend and have had it in my head ever since. It's a really pretty tune and I looked it up this morning. It's still a pretty tune, but ABSOLUTELY FILTHY! Ah well, better than the last time I got a song by a bashment/dancehall artist stuck in my head, when on a closer listen it was full of far too much "chi chi man" for my liking.

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Monday, February 2nd, 2009
11:39 pm
Rage.

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Sunday, December 14th, 2008
9:53 am
And then I go and spoil it all by... getting stupid drunk and doing stupid things and upsetting Emily and then walking around for hours so I'm only just back now and won't be awake to do the christmas tree and I really suck. The end. Sorry Emily.

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Saturday, December 13th, 2008
12:10 am - Quelle surprise
I want to be Julian Clary when I grow up. [1] [2]

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Sunday, November 9th, 2008
2:28 pm
Good grief, the end of season 4 of House is brutal. Fuck.

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Sunday, October 5th, 2008
6:26 pm - sadface
Browsing do-it.org.uk for volunteering opportunities to supplement my course. I have them filtered to mental health as that is the area in which I wish to specialise. Why is the London Lesbian & Gay Switchboard categorised under mental health? Hmm.

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Tuesday, September 16th, 2008
10:15 pm - Er...
I've just been doing some homework and actually, like, enjoying it. I was feeling a bit miserable and tired and doing academic work cheered me up.

My teacher is so awesome. He's got seven medals. He's seen things worthy of Heart of Darkness yet still his natural reaction is to want to hug us all. He read my personal statement and immediately asked me if I'd read any Virginia Woolf. He smokes. I think I'm in love.

Fuck me indeed.

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Tuesday, September 9th, 2008
5:49 pm
My laptop's blown up so I'm borrowing Charile's as he's off interrailing. I was just looking through his windows media player music library and I'm blown away. He's into 60s psychadelic stuff and funk and some folk that I'm not into and there's plenty of stuff I was expecting. But everything by The Birthday Party? All of Brian Eno? A Chameleons album? (I recommended them to him actually, but still) The Cocteau Twins? Secrets of the Beehive by David Sylvian? The Smiths next to Smokey Robinson, all of RHCP (I introduced him to them years ago, nice to know he's still listening), Sparks?! Talk Talk! (can't remember if that was my fault). I need a lot of his music on my computer now. He rules.

current music: A song by The Damned that I've not heard in years as I've only got it on tape

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Friday, May 16th, 2008
1:59 am - Dancing
This makes me smile so much. Look at them go!

(I miss Mim.)

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Monday, April 28th, 2008
5:15 pm - This just took my breath away
Dirty Valentine by Richard Siken


There are so many things I'm not allowed to tell you.
I touch myself, I dream.
Wearing your clothes or standing in the shower for over an hour, pretending
that this skin is your skin, these hands your hands,
these shins, these soapy flanks.
The musicians start the overture while I hide behind the microphone,
trying to match the dubbing
to the big lips shining down from the screen.
We're filming the movie called Planet of Love-
there's sex of course, and ballroom dancing,
fancy clothes and waterlilies in the pond, and half the night you're
a dependable chap, mounting the stairs in lamplight to the bath, but then
the too white teeth all night,
all over the American sky, too much to bear, this constant fingering,
your hands a river gesture, the birds in flight, the birds still singing
outside the greasy window, in the trees.
There's a part in the movie
where you can see right through the acting,
where you can tell that I'm about to burst into tears,
right before I burst into tears
and flee to the slimy moonlit riverbed
canopied with devastated clouds.
We're shouting the scene where I swallow your heart and you make me
spit it up again. I swallow your heart and it crawls
right out of my mouth.
You swallow my heart and flee, but I want it back now, baby. I want it back.
Lying on the sofa with my eyes closed, I didn't want to see it this way,
everything eating everything in the end.
We know how the light works,
we know where the sound is coming from.
Verse. Chorus. Verse.
I'm sorry. We know how it works. The world is no longer mysterious.

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Saturday, April 26th, 2008
9:49 pm - Lalala
Bitcherel By Eleanor Brown


You ask what I think of your new acquisition;
and since we are now to be 'friends',
I'll strive to the full to cement my position
with honesty. Dear - it depends.

It depends upon taste, which must not be disputed;
for which of us does understand
why some like their furnishings pallid and muted,
their cookery wholesome, but bland?

There isn't a law that a face should have features,
it's just that they generally do;
God couldn't give colour to all of his creatures,
and only gave wit to a few;

I'm sure she has qualities, much underrated,
that compensate amply for this,
along with a charm that is so understated
it's easy for people to miss.

And if there are some who choose clothing to flatter
what beauties they think they possess,
when what's underneath has no shape, does it matter
if there is no shape to the dress?

It's not that I think she is boring, precisely,
that isn't the word I would choose;
I know there are men who like girls who talk nicely
and always wear sensible shoes.

It's not that I think she is vapid and silly;
it's not that her voice makes me wince;
but - chilli con carne without any chilli
is only a plateful of mince...

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Sunday, April 20th, 2008
1:34 am - And it hurts with every heart beat
I've had the most beautiful day. It was full of people celebrating the love of two men that has already lasted over ten years, and wishing them even more in the future.

Only, because it's in this journal, it's all about me. Sorry.

T's best man said in her speech that she'd been in love with him for years, mostly joking of course. But. Yeah.

A broken heart takes a long time to heal.

I hope one day I'll be in a position to make real jokes about the relationship I thought I was in for the long run.

Still I'm dying with every step I take.
But I don't look back.


Strange to be ambushed when I thought I'd moved on.

But I can move on.

I have to.

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Saturday, April 12th, 2008
3:03 am - From Educating Rita by Willy Russell
The other day my mother visited me in Cambridge. We went into the town centre and it was full of people collecting their MAs in full gowns with proud parents in attendance. I got a slight lump in my throat when I realised that that would never be me, despite the fact that it had been what I'd been aiming for since I was old enough to be told what Cambridge University was. I took solace in the fact that the whole Cambridge thing was never really me, I never truly felt I belonged.

At work Cambridge students are hated. They come in with their blue student cards, patronising and talking down to the people serving them. They have loud conversations in their posh voices about cringeworthily pretentious things. They have an air of superiority about them. Yet I know that that type of Cambridge student is in the minority. I try to explain to my colleagues that my Cambridge friends aren't like that. That I'm not like that. And I try not to let the voice in my head act like that when I'm told I'm using 'big words' when I say 'monogamy' or 'anarchy'.

I don't feel I fit in anywhere. I don't have a degree but I have been at university. I feel that I can fit in with, yet feel at odds with, both groups. It's strange. And, as ever, someone's articulated it better than me.

Frank: Of course you could've come.
Rita: I couldn't.
F: Why?
R: I'd brought the wrong sort of wine.
F: Christ, I wanted you to come! You didn't have to dress up and bring wine.
R: If you go out to dinner, don't you dress up? Don't you take wine?
F: Yes, I do but...
R: Well?
F: Well, what?
R: You wouldn't take sweet sparkling wine.
F: Does it matter what I do? It wouldn't have mattered if you'd walked in carrying a bottle of Spanish plonk.
R: It was Spanish.
F: Couldn't you just relax? It wasn't fancy dress, you could've come as yourself. Don't you realise what all those people would've seen had you just come breezing in? They would've seen someone who is funny, charming, delightful.
R: I don't wanna be charming and delightful. Or funny. What's funny? I don't wanna be funny. I wanna talk seriously with the rest of ya. Don't wanna come to play the court jester.
F: You weren't being asked to play that role. I just wanted you to be yourself.
R: Yeah, well, I don't wanna be meself.What's me, eh? Eh? Some stupid woman who gives us a laugh because she thinks she can learn, that one day she'll be talking seriously, confidently, living a civilised life? She can't really be like that but she's good for a laugh.
F: If you think you were invited just to be laughed at, you can get out now. You were invited because I wished to have your company.
R: Yeah, well. I'm all right with you, here in this room, but when I saw those people you were with, I couldn't come in. I just seized up, cos I'm a freak.

I can't talk to the people I live with any more, I can't talk to the likes of them at your house because I'm a half-caste.

I decided I wasn't coming here again. I went to the pub. They were all singing, all of 'em. Denny, looking happy. He'd just got a few days' holiday from work. And me mother, not really on top form, something was worrying her. Probably me dad. They were never really love's young dream.

Our Sandra, in love. Her fiancé, about the same. And her mates, all of 'em, singing... oh, some song they'd learned from the jukebox.

And I thought, "Just what the frig am I trying to do? "Why don't I just pack it in, stay here and join in with the singin'?"
F: And why didn't you?
R: You think I can, don't you? You think because you pass a pub doorway and hear them all singing, you think we're all OK, that we're surviving with the spirit intact.

I did join in the singing but when I turned around, me mother had stopped singin', and she was cryin'.

I said, "Why are you crying, Mother?"

And she said, "There must be better songs to sing than this. "

And I thought, "Yeah, that's what I'm trying to do, isn't it?"

Sing a better song. That's why I've come back and that's why I'm staying.

So let's start work.


I'm leaving Cambridge, with its strange divide, and going to college. I won't fit in there either because I've got A Levels. But after that I'm going to damn well carve a niche for myself. So let's start work.

current mood: reflective

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Wednesday, March 5th, 2008
2:58 am - Change
Today I brought the last of my stuff up to Cambridge. I've spent the evening unpacking and tidying my room. I'm writing this by the soft, pinky-red light of fairy lights made from painted dried leaves. My books are all on shelves and my things are arranged around the room. I've lived here for over a year but this is the first time that my room has felt like it's mine, like home.

I went into work and got my rota. My first shift isn't until Sunday so I can go and see Russ this week and I have Wednesday off which means I can go to The Calling.

I have a confirmed place at college. I'm really excited about starting. I can't wait. I've never felt this way about a life decision before.

Earlier I was dancing around my room to electro as I put my clothes away.

It's been a very long time, but I think I'm back.

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Saturday, March 1st, 2008
6:49 pm - The mind does boggle, the mind expands
When I like something I have a tendency to get really obsessed with it, perhaps it's a bipolar thing, I'm not sure. I have to know as much about it as possible, I devote any spare time to it. A (fairly) recent example is Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie and surrounding fandom. I wouldn't like to count the number of hours I've spent watching A Bit Of Fry & Laurie, Qi, and House. I wouldn't want them back either. The world seems a brighter and more exciting place when I've got an obsession.

The first obsession I can really remember is my absolute love for and devotion to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I was 13 when Californication came out and I adored it, I had my walkman in my blazer pocket at all times and listened whenever I got a spare moment. Up until then any music I liked (other than some slightly dubious pop) had been passed on to me by my mother and while that was extremely important to me, I'd found the Chili Peppers on my own, they were mine. The next album I got was the funky, Led Zepplin influenced Blood Sugar Sex Magic which, even now, would be in my top 20 albums. This cemented my love for them. My family had just got the internet and I used it to find out everything I could about them.

The Chili Peppers formed in 1982 and released their first album in 1984. These days they play a slightly tired and bland form of commercial rock that has occasional splashes of brilliance. Back in the day they had a crazy kind of enthusiasm, a real lust for life, and played some okay funk rock, decent enough that George Clinton produced their second album, Freaky Styley, in 1986. I bought all their back albums as quickly as I could.

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At a time when I was very unhappy, before eventually finding my two friends at school, their songs gave me something to get up in the morning for. They were my constant companions. I would bore my brothers with useless Chili Peppers facts. On being informed again that the Chilis' first guitarist, Hillel Slovak, died of a heroin overdose and that was what the song 'Knock Me Down' is about, or that the trumpet was Flea's first instrument and he originally taught himself the bass as a hobby, a baby sitter joked that we all know what my specialist subject on mastermind would be. It wasn't until I completely immersed myself in goth at about 16 that the obsession faded.

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I've spent most of today listening to old Chili Peppers albums that I haven't listened to properly in years and feeling nostalgic. I'm not entirely sure what I'm nostalgic for, certainly not for the sad, lonely little girl I was then, but I've been remembering the times where I'd lie on my bed for hours on end, completely happy just to listen and immerse myself in the music.

I'm not even entirely sure why I'm writing this except that there's a reason I'm having the day I'm having today. The reason is the man I had a sort of date with on Monday. Talk got around to music, as it does, and it turns out he likes the Chili Peppers. A lot. In fact, he's the only person I've ever met who likes them, not as much as I do, but in the same way as I do. If that makes sense. He told me the story behind how he got into them, how they were really important to him (he has their symbol tattooed on his shoulder) and started to talk about his favourite songs and albums. And they were exactly the same as mine. Down to which particular songs hooked him into an album on first listening.

This is the stuff that crushes are made of. He likes me because I can detach myself from sexual situations. And I can, as long as I don't start identifying the person with songs or poems or whatever. Once I start wanting to make mixtapes for a person all is lost. It hasn't got that far. Yet. So today is all about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I'd forgotten exactly how much I love them and I'm glad I've remembered. Their music has an optimism lacked by almost everything else I listen to.

current music: RHCP- If You Want Me To Stay. Again. Bollocks.

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