blog titles are lame

i hate how unreliable i am about everything

2010-09-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

including blogging.

earlier hunched over my cat-patterned tray i cried pathetically into my microwaved spaghetti bolignese just because of california and time differences and crackly phone lines and background laughter and the squashed beer cans in the waste bin. i dont know anymore. the slurs and the squints and the misjudged slip of the door handle none of it is your fault. you’re going to bed because you’re “a bit whacked” at 20:24 in the evening. it isnt your fault it isnt anybody’s fault and i’m just a little sick of it being an issue. it shouldn’t be an issue. it’s nothing. it doesn’t matter.

i’m going to post this even though it appears to be attention seeking garbage. i dont even CARE.

good things

martin stockdale’s mole-like prescense and his referring to lady gaga’s wardrobe as “meat attire”, yes.

bill hicks and his speech on george bush, yes.

my aunt phillipa handing me a designer fashion catalogue and asking me if there was “any element of it you fancy?” for my christmas present, yes.

my new welsh english teacher (and her anger towards the word ”very”) who everybody hates except for me, yes yes yes.

your adorable little self-deprecating chuckle when i grumble “fuck you” down the phone, arghh yes.

there has to be more to life than knitwear.

yes there is more to life than knitwear.

knitwear isnt even that great.

lets smash a plate in silence's face

2010-08-10T09:03:00.001-07:00

i'm hunched in front of the computer with the space between my lips clogged with Rimmel Pointless I'm Trying To Look Much Older Gloss and itchy eyelids from the horrible mascara that I'm wearing because I really do not want to get kicked out of a pub again.
And I don't honestly feel very much like blogging
but here I am because i've been so silent

I went to Endorsit festival and had my face painted with flowers by an attractive woman with no manners and drank expensive beer that I didn't pay for and sweated a lot in a crowd hot and sticky with dubstep and waving their glow sticks. I was too drunk to care about the fact I don't thoroughly enjoy dubstep. But fucking hell, that was amazing fun. Then I had chronic hiccups for hours and the group of us engaged in a conga line massage and danced and turned down sex from hairy strangers and felt up for anything but sleep. and sex from hairy strangers.

then the next morning muddy and dejected i dragged myself home into the warm domestic comfort of my bath tub and soaked until my skin had no trace of festival left on it.
and here we all are.
and i'm so sorry :)

limes from mexico arent actually very funny or interesting

2010-07-01T03:57:00.000-07:00

I've been shit at this recently
I just can't seem to crawl inside my brain properly anymore
I'd like to curl up there,
sleep there for a week, warm and alone with my thoughts.

Or perhaps that's a fucking terrible idea, I'll never know.

My week so far has consisted of late nights and early mornings
Chewing on filter tips in the pub garden
Falling asleep with Rob's examless head resting on my calf
on Sean's bed watching Dexter's Laboratory
at 2:30 when he wanted to go to bed at 1:00
Walk home swallowing the dark trees with my eyelids, burning my temples with cannabis.

Yesterday I naively attempted to persuade the new students at our college to join the creative writing enrichment in my borrowed grey "Enrichment" hoodie. They seem so damn tiny, and uninterested, I think maybe if they grew an inch their enthusiasm would mutate into some kind of ugly fetish and that would be terrifying, it's best they stay short.

However we've got some people interested. Interest is something that seems to invoke this repulsive closed-mouth smile within me, and I babble away about poetry to people holding maps. I'm sat in the college library right now across from somebody saying he's "got loads of work to do". I find it weird that there are actually people here working after all the exams have dripped away and we're left with our lack of anything to do... I've forgotten what it's like to be stressed about education, right now all I feel towards it is a kind of content apathy. I sometimes just wish I had bones the consistency of strawberry laces so I could curl over and eat myself, starting at my feet. It would be something to pass the time.

Sometimes when I read back my blog entries I hear Sophie Dahl's voice and I wonder if maybe I sound a bit pretentious.

FREE WRITING #2

2010-06-21T10:41:00.001-07:00

It's just fun now. I urge you to try it.

Daddy issues tangle in your hair grip your roots like dirty grease and make your boyfriend run
you love him it them when why do you try and eat the peel of the orange rather than the broken segments little orange squidgey sunrises collapsing from the stem and hit my poor mouldy feet they hurt like bowling balls and go to shake the tree its far too warm for pink armpits under the green sky which turns out is a reflection in the river, the river which I'm under eating the stones I eat and eat and eat and eat and bloat like a bean bag i swim, i sink, i swim, i sink, you laugh and laugh and fall in after me CRASH your head cracks above the sharp spheres of brown and grey blood all over your favourite vest and red and white always tattooing the inside of my eyelids i see it when I sleep now, that crimson rush on your white vest that eyelash brushing your white face my frozen thoughts on your white mind i am you. who are you by the way?

Free writing

2010-06-20T02:22:00.001-07:00

FREE WRITING - a prewriting technique in which a person writes continuously for a set period of time without regard to spelling, grammar or topic. It produces raw, often unusable material, but helps overcome blocks of apathy and self critism.

Let's take a swing at it then....

Only four thousand dollars,
only four thousand but they can wear that four thousand dollars with
boots
they can wear it with tights
in the winter they can wrap a fur coat around their four thousand dollars and give it a russian twist like a shot of vodka in some lemon juice. sweet.

She ripped the silk from silver shelves and draped it on the skeleton
the skeleton shook her hand and twirled around and stomped like Tyra Banks
she never wore the silk away from staring faces
wrapped in bed a cocoon of excess
staring with her bush baby blue rocks swimming in her face eating pearls from the floor in the manner of bonbons and kicking the ceiling with her heels,

where have you gone skeleton?
she uses her own skull like a punch bowl
can't really afford a glass one
in the magazines with shiny brims
even after all the shows and stomps and staring faces
and pens rampant on paper
it is the paper's fault.

dancing in the room my blood filling my ears and i can only hear the sound of the electric heater buzzing like the football match and it's melting my inhibitions and i wish it wasn't because there is the skeleton eating the pearls and staring like i've hit her. oh god, i sang last night like a squeaking moron accapella because you snatched the guitar, was i that dreadful?

Pizza menu

2010-06-08T04:58:00.000-07:00

We're sat under the dirty yellow light
waiting for our cardboard boxes
They go outside to smoke, do I want to come?
No, I'll stay here, it's cold
and watching other people smoke is dull.
Conversation or warmth?
For once I pick warmth, and they're outside puffing
and I poke my head out and ask if I can borrow a pen.

I haven't got any paper so I grab a menu from the box on the counter.
The woman in her black hat glares at me, disrupting her staring at her all important orders
movement in front of her face that isn't an oven door.
I smile sideways and slip back to the window

Not much space on this thing,
only the white sides framing the persuasive adverts
and ORDERING FROM US HAS NEVER BEEN EASIER!
I don't really care, I never was swayed by convenience.
Hah.

So click click, I use his pen
to write around the adverts
bad poems about being sat in a pizza place.

I despise the maddening fingertips in eye sockets,
sighs like a rubber breeze just used to inflate
a castle like the one in the catalogue bounce
until we fall screaming on our prepubescent asses.

and this one

This is what they call last resort.
Soles on the hard grey
Fat baseball caps and slogan on their foreheads.
Branded.
Pizza slaves
Staring at me
All I want is a Mighty Meaty.

Poor menu, this isn't what it dreamed of!

Cold blue stones chuck swing bolt at me
hit my chest
bleed scream fall
eat pizza
go home.

So some of them aren't directly about pizza...

2010-05-30T11:41:00.001-07:00

There isn't enough time left to accept life as something earnest,
so earnest that I eat the right food
buy the right clothes
use thu rite spellin nd grammar
get upset about the right things
and listen to the right noises.
Right now there is very little noise outside my own skull
And getting upset is too much to think about.

There isn't enough time to think about my burning temples at 11am
Curled up staring at the back of my eyelids
Listening to Rob's mum play country music.

So I'm abandoning any rules you sling at me,
Civilisation,
with your polished work tops chopping up loud teenagers with a stainless steel knife

There certainly isn't enough time to be angry with you.

I should go to sleep now, but I just have too many eyes.

My keyboard is broken

2010-05-27T01:29:00.000-07:00

I've taken to scrawling my thoughts down on bits of paper and sticking them to the side of my wardrobe with the time of the thought above it. For example, there is one in which I claim that the Dirty Projecters are the audio-equivalent of an anti-depressant. (11:34am)

And that's why my blog is so empty recently.

I'm learning all too early and all too late in that predictable dribble of realisation that we all experience, it's difficult to know just who you really can "trust".

But come now, nothing good ever came of cliches!

I feel like I've lost a lot of people. Left them behind, or they've run ahead clicking their animated heels like Chuck Jones characters and kicking the ground under their feet...

WOW I NEED TO STOP WHINING NOW
How was that for a comeback? Ha!

Everything I write now sounds like a fackin poem

2010-04-26T13:18:00.001-07:00

Sick.
Sick of you shiny politicians
Babbling your bullshit
Your wrinkled stammers,
I d-dont n...no you mis...misunderstand I..No, it....It's..not..
Crackled grey radio voices and
I duck my head under the water so the soap fills up my ears and
I can't hear what any of you are saying anymore and
The news reporter's cotton-bud voice accuses you of being unfair...
"Well no, the tax is lower for everyone!"
"But clearly it isn't lower, as it has increased by-"

And duck
Figures and numbers crackle outside my door in a different world
I don't have to think about it
The soap bubbles amiably lovely and fresh and
my fingers look like dry pickles under the white skin of the water and
Why do greasy little undeveloped baby thoughts always drip from my bath taps in tiny squeaks?

2010-04-25T08:21:00.001-07:00

Take your dusty nose out of that flimsy book
Please break the silence smash a plate or hit yourself in the face
before I do.

Well done,
you got what you wanted.

I have acquired formspring.

2010-04-22T13:13:00.001-07:00

Doesn't joining the masses make you feel alive??

http://www.formspring.me/2Dalex

again this is not a poem

2010-04-18T06:54:00.000-07:00

it reeks of festivals outside, beautiful
cider and woodsmoke and grass and sweat.

last night it sounded the same

distant voices, laughing, screaming

grubby fumblers clawing at the zip of their tent

falling into sleep

shreiking

usually summer makes my spine twinge

head throb

stomach churn

but

i'm ready to wear bare legs and suncream.

2010-04-14T11:24:00.000-07:00

"patting people on the back when they cough never helps
but we always insist upon doing it anyway
whats the point?"

"you might as well say,
by the same token,
whats the point in anything?"

fucking early morning pseudo-philosophers with shaggy hangover hair and red eyes.
what do we know?

load of bullshit....NOT A POEM

2010-04-14T11:07:00.001-07:00

i simply melted into damp and awkward apologies,
sorry sorry fucking sorry
i really do detest my horrible plodding words spinning circles in the cold dry darkness
the way i should not even have thought processes
when people deserve sentances that make sense
and dont make my chest flutter when the stiff silence remains for an entire 20 seconds
without you saying anything
and what does "okay" mean?
arghhh.
hot cigarette smoke bottom of a beer can middle of a polo mint cold dry mouth.
we're just making noise.

i cant be fucked with holding back!

and hypollitus merely sits in his kingdom
masterbating into socks
and complaining about his train set.

i was a weight and now i'm lifted. isn't that it?
isn't that what you want me to think, hypollitus?

aren't you afraid of the wolves?

2010-03-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

i love angela carter

i love wolf-alice

and the strange theories it spews into my mind

what defines humanity?

is a human not merely a flawed wolf?

in becoming so unflinchingly and almost sickeningly civilised

we have forgotten and neglected our primal roots...

"eve and grunting adam."

what big eyes you have

what big arms you have

what big teeth you have

what a massive ego you have got...

"all the better to gobble you up with!"

we are all hairy on the inside

and your eyes see only appetite.

i adore

2010-03-29T10:43:00.000-07:00

pictures so hauntingly mundane

they border on being pornographic.

"recognise me?"

realisation

2010-03-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

i've woken up
smelt the coffee
and realised
its all full of damaging stimulants.

hotboxed brain

2010-03-16T10:10:00.000-07:00

it feels like an underachieving group of teenagers are curled up nochalantly inside my brain and have closed all the windows in order to smoke their spliffs and feel dizzy from the very air around them because nothing natural can squeeze in.

(I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT EVERYONE WHO SMOKES WEED IS AN UNDERACHIEVER OR INDEED THAT THEY ALL FIT INTO THE SAME STEREOTYPE THANKS)

this is because i have quite a lot to do.

therefore, it looks like me and blogging will go our seperate ways for a couple of weeks and i'll come back when i'm less stressed and pat his/her (blogging hath no gender, fools) tiny fuzzy head and ask him/her hows s/he's been. s/he'll reply with something like, "you know, it's been a struggle without you. but in the end, isn't life a constant struggle? repetition. a closed circuit. bustling bodies just flitting round society pretending to know their place. in the end, who really knows their place? really? i certainly don't. i am a bubble of curiosity waiting to pop. cryptic metephors. cryptic metephors. cryptic metephors."

and i'll smile and say, "i missed you too."

me trudie and chris at the weekend. i love these beautiful people.

vanity

2010-03-04T12:46:00.001-08:00

to-day somebody told me that vanity wasn't their forte.
what i assumed they meant was they didn't LIKE it.

as i was walking home thinking about this,
i began pondering the following:

vanity is this inescapable quality that burrows deep into the corners of certain peoples personalities and would quietly slip away to stew in its hunger if only it would stop being so stuffed full of delicious clothes and makeup and compliments from people with shining admiration.
if only it would stop being fed, it would slink off or perhaps melt into something less unappealing. self-acceptance, maybe.

and what is really bizarre is
vanity seems only to thrive on appearance

and the people who are the least vain
are usually the ones who deserve to be the vainest
but then if they became so
they wouldn't deserve it any more.

well this was a load of obvious repetitive garbage.

shitty war story for english C/W, can anybody help me to think of a title?

2010-03-02T08:50:00.000-08:00

The hot, heavy globules of sweat racing each other down my neck. The thick clumps of dirt stubborn under my fingernails. Burning behind my eyes, my brain like cotton wool, your fast empty words. Stop talking.

With all the ambition of a crumbling pensioner, I dig my empty rifle into Tom’s back and I feel my insufficient secondary school education trailing clumsily out of my mouth in sharp wretching coughs. Everything I’ve learned was sliding around at the top of my throat and now it plays around in the grimy, jaded clumps of jet black air. “TOM! GO!” his stumbling gallop, the crummy soles of his lace up boots, darting dancing flying mud, my spattered chest.

Unclean. Contaminated. Dirty.

I remember my desolate kitchen worktops and Andrea’s compulsive desire to keep them immaculate. Straight wide bricks marching down the sides of our run-of-the-mill orange rooftop, dispirited grey weeds lapping at the edges of our hanging baskets. Bye bye, suburbia.

I hunch breathless, my helmet obscuring my vision as heavy beads of sweat roll down the side of my face. Grubby fingers. Andrea would have a fit, her straight blonde bob always curled under her pointed chin perfectly. I can feel the cakes of mud breaking apart when I grasp my rifle, and I think of the scratched plastic paintball gun at home with innocent spheres of paint ready to be fired into a small child’s back. My small child. Her shimmering purity.

The bedsheets at base camp are crisp and cold like layers of brittle snow. They have no smell. Andrea constantly insisted on pungent liquid soap the colour of the bile I choke on due to the fumes here. It used to crawl rudely up my nose and bite the insides of my nostrils, distracting me from sleep.

Here, I sleep alone, with room to kick and snore and moan and sigh. I am permitted to leave on my warm thick socks which Andrea used to complain about. Contrary to my wife’s habit of talking in her sleep, the only inane jabbering I hear now are the voices ringing in my ears.

Here, I can shovel my food into my greedy mouth and guzzle and belch. The other men cheer and laugh, beefy hands patting me on the back in congratulations, greasy smirks, enervated discoloured teeth. But Andrea would sigh and roll her perfect round eyes at me in anger. Better out than in.
Now I’m out.

Here, that hideous yellow sweater she got me is distant and out of my way. Hauling on the same khaki overalls with dull acceptance day in, day out, rids me of that burden. The burden of cashmere and cordurouy and grazed dark leather. I have a uniform now. I have an escape from the mundanity of fashion.
…Although everybody back at home has a uniform too, it just doesn’t uphold the same meaning as my ugly one piece. They just differ slightly in cut and colour but never in meaning or purpose.

Screaming, shouting. My ears hot and uncomfortable under my helmet. A sauna in my skull. My companion’s rasping breath tumbling out of dirty cracked lips, nudging the side of my face, I remember my little Alice’s perfect pink mouth, her undistorted pale white teeth. The way she laughed when—
“SHOOT!”
And I have to. I steady my unruly trembling fingers and press down on the trigger of my gun.

A man dead. My job done. The guilt heavy like a sack of bricks. His forgotten blood trickling predictably down his muddy vest. Following the map, trailing clumsily over his protruding muscles and crawling onto the ground in puddles.

We may have had everything in common. He could have been interested in tennis and Samuel Beckett and american mustard and Led Zeppelin. He might have liked the same films as me, drank the same beer, cried at Titanic. He too might have taken on the same pretentious arrogance as me about politics, delivering his wisdom with flailing hands, the same hands that are now curled in despondent grimy fists by his sides.
I step back from my finished work, the thick watery mud playing in the gaps in my soles. The rifle suddenly feels heavier than it ever did as it weighs down my weak inexperienced arm, I’m not cut out for this. Serving my country. Noble fighting. Saving the world.

So why don’t I feel like a hero?

2010-02-28T12:47:00.000-08:00

i'm becoming more and more resemblant of the malodorous innards of a clamped up oyster with each passing day, just stewing in everything away from people and sounds and .... i want to shut myself in, block out their voices with a tea cosy.

there are so many productive things i could be doing right now

2010-02-25T06:28:00.001-08:00

sat in my favourite seat in the library,
shoved right against the wall feeling the lack of hard work throbbing in my shoulders,
sitting doing nothing actually causes me physical pain.

i need to do the following:

essay on social realism in 1980's british cinema - films studies
essay on magazines - media
exam questions - media
retake horror film storyboard photos - film studies
complete storyboard - film studies
revision - maths
LEARN LINES!!!! - drama

and a fuckload of english work.

i have realised a little too conciously over the past week that i should not have taken film studies at all.
or not failed maths
or just not gone to college.

i hate education and my feeling of necessity when it comes to stupid blocks of meaningless text handed in to exasperated teachers with floppy hair and floppy smiles and little tags that say "STAFF" so you feel the right amount of guilt if you push them over thinking they're a student.

i'm living my life through crumpled receipts from tesco and empty water bottles and second hand smoke and stupid sentances which should stick to the corners of my brain like filthy cobwebs but end up tumbling into the open air, for everybody to hear. i'm a dick. i am a massive metephorical dick.

let's write something happy, don't drag the internet down with you alex.

a man with really spiky hair just walked out of the library
and this is good for 2 reasons
1 - it looks really funny and as if you would feel the gel squidging between your fingers in a slightly satisfying manner were you to dip your hand into that slick garden of laborious locks. alliteration.
2 - i bet it took him ages and ages, and i am glad that when i wake up in the morning i can be ready in about 20 minutes.

more shiny occurences

things that make me pleased

earlier i found a very effective font for my storyboard. this makes me feel more organised.
rob made me a "bently mikes" cigarette case which i think i will keep mints or M&M's in because, well, i don't smoke.
my memory stick is named jeff.
jack is coming over to watch fight club next week
no, that didn't happen in the end.
merty's birthday this weekend, roman themed...
togas, ivy, laughing, dancing.
i've almost finished "Juliet, Naked"
it makes me smile on trains when strangers drinking coffee frown at my apparently unfounded grins...
jack battley and i had a fascinating exchange earlier on.
trudie and i had an edible chat at the end of drama,
one that i sunk my teeth into with vigour.
this seat really is my favourite.
for some reason somebody told me i looked pretty.

in the words of baz luhrmann - although they were in fact magazine collumnist mary schmich's words, but whatever - remember the compliments you recieve, forget the insults.

if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

=) positivity please.

ICELAND!!!!!

2010-02-21T04:00:00.000-08:00

Eyjafjallajökull glacier, one of the smallest glaciers of Iceland

START SAVING.

cohenism has crawled out of my soul

2010-02-18T02:17:00.000-08:00

i'm not joking. if we were in the land of northern lights this boy would be in the form of a crow or something perched on my shoulder. he has just scraped my thoughts out of my head like a mouldy avacado and chucked the gooey green sludge into a blender with a massive splash of intellect and somehow made the best digital smoothie of all time. an ironic analogy to choose, considering what my favourite video of his is about:

to-night i shall be bugsy malone.

damn those reoccuring characters!

2010-02-17T11:24:00.000-08:00

after dropping merty off at the TRAIN STATION (i do go to other places sometimes) this morning, i ventured into a little vintage shop to stare idly at brown shoes and tesco name badges (made special by the authentic 1960's font i suppose, although to me it just looks like... a name badge from tesco) i shuffled towards a rack of bobbly old man jumpers near the door.

it was then that a jumping blonde man with a rusty bike in his clutches appeared at the door, waved at the shop owner and beckoned him over. the conversation went as follows:

SHOP OWNER

you alright mate? WOW, look at this! (indicating bike)

BLONDE MAN

yeah, picked it up this morning from (something about an open house), it was free!!! i'm off to do it up now, do you know of any bike shops around here?

SHOP OWNER

errm...

(kerfuffle as an older couple attempt to walk past the blonde man outside on the pavement)

BLONDE MAN

ohh sorry. no, you should go in there it's very nice!!

SHOP OWNER

-laughs-

BLONDE MAN

anyway, i should go. nice to see you!!

and as i witnessed this conversation, i couldn't help but acknowledge a tiny babbling gremlin kicking viciously at the corners of my subconcious. YOU RECOGNISE THAT MAN FROM SOMEWHERE.

i thought maybe it was the boy who sat opposite me on the TRAIN (yeah) that time, the one who looked like somebody from lord of the rings although i couldn't place who, and told me i was insane and talked to me about chocolate buttons and braces. but i knew it wasn't him, because Blonde Man was too old.

it was only later sat in the bath recalling the event as i screeched about the shampoo in my eye and dabbed it with a hot towel

that i realised
just who
he was.

the man who gave me the cigarette on the train station platform!! i hadn't realised he was LOCAL. i thought he was a TRAVELLER, his coat was all embroided and shit!

HE HAS LONG HAIR. IGNORANCE EMINATES FROM MY PORES.
but yes, so it appears that i lead a mundane and fruitless existence, just like the entirety of mankind, because little things such as men with rusty bikes make me drop hot towels and disrupt the bubbles in my bathwater and go "OH MY GOD!"

i mean really.

uninspirated (HEART LEVI BEAMISH)

2010-02-15T08:51:00.000-08:00

merty has a head ache
and so is lying on my new sheets soaking up their reluctant colour coded-ness.
my walls hate being white
and my curtains hate matching my duvet
but my mum likes it minimalistic
and decorated my room for me while i was away last year!

the abundance of posters and photos on my walls are a big distraction.

i have nothing to say!!!!!

other than i am excited about seeing these beautiful musicians play live to-morrow:

i went and named my memory stick jeff

2010-02-12T10:57:00.000-08:00

because buckley is such an inspiration.

i feel the need to talk about alexander mcqueen
although i never took an avid interest in fashion
my wok always adored him, he is to her what laura dockrill
or edgar wright
are to me.

i feel so utterly rubbish
but i'm trying not be such a wet sock!

i love peoples hesitant, slow doubt
before walking through an automatic door

it might not open this time

and it's heartening to know that we haven't had technology and convenience integrated into our subconcious
and we still carry apprehension around with us.

i'm so utterly antisocial!

2010-02-10T11:05:00.000-08:00

o, that it were possible we might but hold some two days conference with the dead!!
from them i should learn somewhat, i am sure, i never shall know here.
i'll tell thee a miricle; i am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow.
the heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass,
the earth of flaming sulphur yet i am not mad.
i am acquainted with sad misery, as the tann'd gally slave is with his oar... necessity makes me suffer constantly, and custom makes it easy.
whom do i look like now?

duchess, babe, i totally sympathise. they be callin' me crazy too.

flicking through my notebook whilst congestion has a tiny party in my nostrils, adhearing to the old cliche of burrowing senselessly into my bedsheets whilst coughing into tissues,
(day off college to-day)
i'm reading some of the things i've written.

fact?
fiction?

i try and concentrate on the gaps between your teeth, the salmon pink flesh under your eye as you pull on the tops of your cheeks. but you will always have those perfect slender fingers.

bottomless fiction.
that stupid letter
my warbling rants
extracts from poems written by people who probably appreciate the sophistication of munching on a good creme brulee a lot more than me.
i actually nearly puked.
notes on subjects i don't need to be studying
scribbled in italics because that way
it's easier to write faster
and i wish i didn't know that.

i may well burn this notebook!

my eyes are hot and uncomfortable inside my head right now
they may scurry off to france
to see the eiffle tower or some other beautiful cliche

fathoms

2010-02-04T06:27:00.001-08:00

i feel
at my lowest

surrounded by
plumes of smoke
and jabbering acid mouths
people enjoying
their stumpy fags.

i feel
at my highest

not filled up with pungent drugs
but in a nice
hot
bath.

dear you,

2010-02-03T00:25:00.000-08:00

you never listen to me anymore.
you're so irritating i feel crushed under the wheels of your hypocrisy.
try writing your fiction again, go on, i dare you

you'll get a sentance in and realise it's impossible.

stop trying to immerse yourself in Robert De Niro films,
you'll never shoot the mayor
you'll never grow a mohawk
you'll never be Johnny Boy
because you couldn't pull off a hat like that.

guess what?
nobody LIKES Sam Cooke anymore,
it's just you!

can't you feel
your progress and will power trickling away from you
as you sit around and waste your time
because that's really the only thing
you'll ever be an expert on.

your angry letters and poems and big scribbled rants
actually don't
constitute
"work".

contrary to your arrogant desires,
AS English students will not one day be spending money
on the collected works
of You.

crowding round a table with their pens
and scrawling annotations next to your clever linguistic techniques,
you twat.

i know, i know,
those little notes mean so much right now
one day you'll watch the way your pen was so desperate against that cheap paper
and want to vomit on your own messy words.

you're not a spoken word artist
just because a few of your friends have heard your blathering rhymes

you're not a poet.
you're not a writer.

you're just me.

and i'm you.

and it'd be nice if we could get along for once, alex.

...and this is it's positive cousin..

2010-01-14T13:48:00.000-08:00

i love:

the burning sensation of too much toothpaste under the tongue.
my father and his abbreviations,
my mother and her extensive collection of cabbage-themed pottery

and

your twinkling generosity and unconditional posession of wet wipes.
snow clinging stubbornly onto the fringes of the countryside, FUCK YOU WINTER SUN!

your silent laugh.
the way you suck your teeth when you're uncertain.

Cameron Diaz in The Last Supper,
it's a simple world.
her wide mouth and tugging the knife out of a dead woman's back

whilst talking about tomatoes.

frail old women who attentively pick up everybody elses litter with rich glowing smiles poking at their false teeth,
conversations with strangers on the train who make observations about my personality

your self-concious remarks and fear of becoming boring,
you won't.

your transparent decisions and fear of not making an impact,
you will.

your irrevocable innocence, your unambigiuous laughter and shaking limbs.
warm beer. cold toast.

my english teacher keeping her mobile phone in her shoe,
my drama teacher's continual swearing,
oh tim.
my film studies teacher's apologetic chortle

and

james. huggy bear. i have never been taught so much about wiggas. i love you.
The Biggest Loser and how it makes me feel better about myself.

useful 20p coins cuddling the corners of my purse.

this.

this is a pathetically blatant rip-off of "i wrote this in the computer lab at stanford university" by lars horris

2010-01-14T11:46:00.000-08:00

i hate:

my mother's reassuring words of "you'll never be good at maths, honey"
the feeling underneath my eyes after blinking the smoke,
my desire, and fufillment of that desire, to selfishly devour copious amounts of junk food,
the fact that i eat my feelings

and

the way your benighted lips stick to your teeth when you smile and whisper.
your unembellished beige existence
my maths teacher's long self-indulgent sighs,
his scrabbling hands and their insubstantial whiteboard marker pen

the way i've inherited your weak, addictive personality.

your disinterest in anything other than a possible job at marks and spencer.
peter doherty.
just fucking. peter doherty.

boys who take their shirts off at parties

my lack of compassion
your lack of compassion
dregs of pulp and squishy biscuit crumbs bouncing around under the sofa.

this.

where is my mind?

2010-01-11T12:57:00.000-08:00

holy shit, it's happened.
my belly is churning with so much excitement and apprehension it's hard to verbalise the vibrations in my brain right now, my fingers are fizzing and you think i'm going to tell you something astounding.

for me, this IS astounding.
i've got the twinge.

I'VE GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

not the twinge that DJ experiences in don juan in soho when he craves a hard fast shag with a mildly attractive woman. not that sort of twinge, oh no, i haven't had this twinge since summertime, and i didn't think it would ever flutter back to me, even with 101 subscribers i still didn't feel motivated.

and now
i want to start making videos again.
I WANT TO. I HAVE IDEAS. I HAVE THAT BUZZING FEELING IN MY THROAT WHERE I CAN'T WAIT FOR MY CAMERA BATTERY TO CHARGE. I HAVE NO LIFE. HOORAY!!!

of course, this will be a slow and gradual proccess. i started piecing something together this evening when i really honestly desperately needed to be working on my film studies essay which is due in on wednesday (!!!) and at the moment it's a big puddle of motions and sounds and thumbnails but i'm going to build it up. i have no idea what it's going to be yet but i'll store it in a happy plastic container from the chinese takeaway in my fridge and hope my mother doesn't gobble it with her lethargic morning mouth.

holy holy fuck, it is only video-making.
it won't go anywhere.
i'm not very good at it.
but it's happening.

how wonderfully unexpected!

2010-01-07T08:45:00.000-08:00

somebody who i have never actually met and therefore should not feel obliged to compliment me implied that she liked my blog!!!!
and AWARDED me
(that's where i drew the "liking" from!)
fuck yeah. let's do this shit.

Part 1: Answer questions with one word...

OKAY. I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT NOW THAT ALTHOUGH THIS MAY DEFEAT THE OBJECT OF THE QUIZ, THE BITS IN BRACKETS DO NOT COUNT AS PART OF MY "ONE WORD" ANSWER. i won't do it very often i promise! haha. i'm shit, right,

1. Where is your cell phone? POCKET :D

2. Your hair? bunned (!!!)

3. Your mother? great (and agitating)

4. Your father? inspirational (and agitating)

5. Your favorite food? edible

6. Your dream last night? unnoteworthy!

7. Your favorite drink? escapism.

8. Your dream/goal? clarity...

9. What room are you in? spare!

10. Your hobby? tryingtofindtheinuendoineverything

11. Your fear? commitment.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? self-acceptance

13. Where were you last night? inmyhead.

14. Something you aren't? ... adaptable?

15. Muffins? bluffin-with!

16. Wish list item? thelackofdesiretobeconstantlywishingforsomethingidontalreadyown.

17. Where did you grow up? unimportant

18. Last thing you did? :S breathed...

19. What are you wearing? (how to answer this with one word?)....clothes? (pfft)

20. Your TV? unnessecary

21. Your pets? self-loathing

22. Your friends? existent (?)

23. Your life? short

24. Your mood? hypocritical.

25. Missing someone? merty =(

26. Vehicle? vehicle.

27. Something you're not wearing? shoes!

28. Your favorite store? BORDERS (WAAAAAAAAAHHH)

29. Your favorite color? RAINBOW

30. When was the last time you laughed? to-day

31. Last time you cried? november :O

32. Your best friend? trudiemerty.

33. One place that I go over and over? ...bed? (it's a fairly repetitive process that rarely amounts to anything life-changing)

34. One person who emails me regularly? nobody D:

35. Favorite place to eat? inexpensive

Part 2: Pass the award on...

kay so like i mentioned, i'm shit,
therefore i completely have no idea how to...make peoples names go blue
hahah
so,

1. Trudie at smoke and mirrors. my best friend. an excellent writer. a rare quizzer... which is a biproduct of being an excellent writer.

2. Bippie at Teenage Scribblings. the only way i can access your deepest emotions, my darling, even if they are marginally cryptic and occasionally melancholy.

3. Jack at The Homunculus. i'll enjoy seeing if he'll even attempt to use one word answers, because he's a bit of a wordy bugger.

4. Natalie at it's not me it's just my face. how come it took you so long to start blogging? you're a NATURAL my dear!! i adore reading it.

5. Adam at Adam Keeps A Blog. because he so rarely does!!

and actually, as blogging about recent events goes,
i've come to realise that in truth
i completely got the best pick!
of people that is.
i don't know anybody else like my friend circle!

"let's go and paint the town some mutually visible colour"

the singer has a speaking voice!!

2009-12-29T02:51:00.001-08:00

we always assumed it was utterly impossible,
but there he was, on the bus,
getting the bus like a typical human being, jabbering mindlessly into his mobile phone the same way a business man or a teenage girl might. not the way that most of us perceive mr. singer. the shuddering crouching impossiblity that is the young slightly bald (but - undeniably - potentially handsome) man who resides in bournemouth square (occasionally in other places) and just.... sings.

he literally just sits and sings.
and as i boarded the bus
(SUDDEN THOUGHT WHY THE FUCK ARE SO MANY OF MY BLOGS BASED AROUND PUBLIC TRANSPORT ALSO I NEED TO STOP HAVING SO MANY UNEXPECTED UNRELATED UNIMPORTANT THOUGHTS BECAUSE THEN THE POOR SHIFT BUTTON COULD GET A BREAK AND STOP HAVING TO SUCK UP TO KEYS 9 AND 0)
ahem as i boarded the bus
i saw him get on in front of me
jog up the steps
take a seat
because like every other human being HUMAN BEING??? he sits. on buses.
the singer sits on buses and his phone rings
and his phone did ring
and with no apparent apprehension he answered it

ANDFUCKINGHELLHESOUNDSLIKEABURLEYESSEXSTAGDOORGANISER AAAAAHH
"yeah.. yea yurite. yeaaahh wuzgood. did that uh snow patrol song. yehh went well."

oh my god the singer talking about his singing on the phone BUT HE HAS A REAL ACTUAL PROPER EXISTENT SPEAKING VOICE, the same way that gordon "the tramp" has a house...

i appreciate that this was really really terrible, i just needed to get the ball rolling
hopefully this blog has aggressively crashed through the horrible dam which has been blocking my... RIVER of inspiration recently
fucking hell
errrrghhhh im not even going to proof read it

plot holes in ashputel?

2009-12-15T10:41:00.000-08:00

well for a start it's highly probable that there is somebody else with ashputel's shoe size in the kingdom.

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.
the man with the vodka bottle? the one i had sentimental thoughts about? the one with the heavy tongue?

HE SPOKE TO ME AGAIN.
i was alone,
waiting for my dad to pick me up,
on a bench,
sitting on my rolled up cardigen like a fat cushion bouncing up and down to keep me semi-warm, and tasting the cold.
up he came.
his trench coat swallowing him up again, i always remember how huge it is, but beige and suprisingly clean so from a distance he does look like a tired businessman.
maybe that's his hook. his gimmick.
The Drunken Businessman.

"excuse me love,
excuse me,
are there any.. any baaa.."

fucking hell. it really is him. such a big nose, i didn't notice before, massive brown eyes and is that hairgel? grease?

"any ba what? bags?"

he tuts at himself. forgetting to finish your words again, you silly twat. ho ho ho, jane will have a laugh about this. he comes over and sits next to me. oh god.
"no, not bags, BANKS."
"oh banks! urrrmm.." OH MY GOD THE VODKA MAN IS SAT NEXT TO ME WHAT IS A BANK AGAIN ARE THERE ANY AROUND HERE LIKE OH MY GOD HES RIGHT THERE HE'S SAT RIGHT THERE HE IS ACTUALLY THERE THAT'S HIM. "urrrmmm.." HE SMELLS OF IT, I CAN SMELL IT ON HIM, IT'S REALLY HIM AND HE'S SAT THERE AND I CAN SMELL HIM HE'S JUST SAT RIGHT THERE, LIKE RIGHT THERE "urrrmm.. urrrm.... urm OH yeah, i think there is one about ten minutes that way" way, way over there.. i point towards the highstreet.
"ten minutes?? TEN minutes..are you.. are you.."
are any of us? are any of us, REALLY? please don't make me think deeply as a direct result of our encounters, Drunken Businessman. it's already happened once. "are you..are you.. are you waiting..waiting for someone..to.." he gestures vaguely. pick me up? slap me? love me? hug me? hand me a life of fame and fortune on a platter? what DBM what?
after his useless gesticulating fails him, i assume he means "pick you up".
"yes, yes i am. my dad."
are parents threatening now? or is that boyfriends? or bodyguards.
"ohh look look,"
blink blink sigh.
"i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,"
up he gets.
"i'm not from round here...i moved...from the village.."
what fucking village, you alcoholic tycoon?
"i moved from the village and i need..need a bank.."
my teeth are gone.
they really have dissapeared. where are they?
it's very difficult to look accepting when you can't find your teeth.
"don't worry about it, it's fine."
i bet i look like a right smarmy bitch. a toothless one, at that.

he hobbles away slightly, then turns.
"if you ever need anything...don't hesitate to ask..."
"right. thankyou." i'll just dial your fax number shall i?
"you know what i mean don't you?"

fucking hell.
WHAT DOES HE MEAN?

DISORGANISED SCRABBLING UNHEALTHY FINGERTIPS TYPING SENSELESSLY

2009-12-13T01:59:00.000-08:00

blaaaaaah
okay,

this entire sporadic mishmash of thoughts and feelings and events and faces and voices and strange eating habits needs to be sorted out immediately. HERE ARE SOME THINGS.

> STOP EATING BADLY
> SOMEHOW ACQUIRE A SEMI-ENJOYABLE AND WELL-PAID JOB
> STOP USING SO MANY HYPHENS, THEY DO NOT REDEEM EVERYTHING ALEXANDRA.
> STOP BECOMING ANGRY WHEN PEOPLE FROM MY PRIMARY SCHOOL DO NOT REMEMBER ME / DO NOT RECOGNISE ME / SHUN ME / TELL ME I'M WEIRD
> BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO UNDERSTAND TRAINS
> gain some fucking sympathy and compassion.

(that list is to be continued...)

mm,
texts are too short, i wish i didn't feel the need to say so many words,
yesterday was enjoyable,
curry is enjoyable star trek is enjoyable and the company of good people and the occasional fly is also very enjoyable!!!!

and in the early afternoon the sea regurgitated some of the sun and left it floating clumsily on the surface. and the sand has goose bumps. and i think the big issue is wonderful.

facebook, i hate you!

2009-12-02T10:51:00.001-08:00

and i can barely hear your voice, one hundred thousand others are fighting beneath my ear drum, hitting it playfully with their eager fists and then laughing when their hands bleed.

my blistered tongue is hot with words i don't remember thinking, but now they mark the air like dirty sweat stains and drip lazily onto the floor for us to find and slip in later. clumsy children who forgot to put their shoes on. cold, wet socks.

your face when you laugh at yourself!! What-The-Hell-Am-I-Saying wrinkles scatter your eyelids.

your laughter is violently ripped from you as if a nasty school boy mistook it for somebody else's homework.

why do you laugh like that?
so academic.
your laughter could be drafted and redrafted on a spreadsheet until the numbers were aligned perfectly, one two three four ha ha ha.

..yeah..except i don't really have anything to write about do i?

2009-12-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

i live solely to see the way that the silhouettes of the trees cease to exist at 5 oclock in winter, because the darkness of the late afternoon sky swallows them up and spits them out,
and it's all just a mish mash of black and blue and spikes and angles.

cold. cold. cold.
so fucking freezing.

i did it again.
i screamed and i was by myself this time,
crossing the road and i was sweating even though it was so cold and my hands were being chomped on by the wind and i had mud on my coat but my other one was lost somewhere and i crossed the road and i thought if my mum had given me a lift to the station i could have been there by now AND
ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
i screamed, quite loudly, with accompanying hand gestures,
and i'm starting to think,
maybe this is a problem?
a man with half gloves (some say fingerless, i say half, they're probably not precisely HALF existent, but yeah, i say half) looked around and i don't think he realised that it was me.
and i crossed the road and i looked up and my old hairdressers sat all smug not open yet,
and i remembered the time before school started when he cut my hair wrong,
and i remembered the way my fringe didn't cover my forehead the way i wanted it to,
and argh argh fucking ARGH I REMEMBERED HOW,
IN MY OLD SCHOOL,
WHEN I GOT MY HAIR CUT,
AND IT WAS WRONG,
AND IN MY OLD SCHOOL
MY OLD SCHOOL
MY OLD SCHOOL
IN YEAR EIGHT, WHEN I WAS
TWELVE!!!!!!
SOMEBODY ASKED ME IF I HAD EVER HAD A BOYFRIEND
I WAS TWELVE
SHE WAS TWELVE
WE WERE. TWELVE!!!!!!!!!!
I SAID NO.
WE WERE TWELVE!!!!!!!!!
SHE SAID,
"ARE YOU A LESBIAN?"
WE WERE TWELVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so then i thought, fucking hell some people are shit,
then at the train station too late
and i think fuck it, the next train gets there just in time,
just in fucking time.
and i sit and it's cold and i read my book and it's cold and i shuffle my feet and it's cold and the numbers on the digital clock fold over themselves and time ticks by and it's cold and madonna you were right, so slowly!

but still.
some people AREN'T shit,
and some theatre troupes are so wonderful,
and some cakes taste so amazing,
and some people's eyes dissapear when they smile,
and sometimes people know all the stops from london waterloo to weymouth off by heart.

so it's okay, i suppose.

please stop it, you antisocial self-indulgent dick.

2009-11-22T08:58:00.000-08:00

sorry, sorry,
but it feels as like my tongue is expanding by about a centimetre with every swig of orange juice i take BLEEHHH.
plus i found this mildly humorous and was partially anticipating that you would aswell??

WORDS THAT I, ALEXANDRA SCARLETT MULLEN, ARROGANT BLOG-WRITER, NAAIVE TAKER OF AS LEVEL ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE, AND PROUD ADDICT OF THESAURUS.COM, HAVE HAD TO SPELL CHECK TO-DAY:

(i had to print-screen it from microsoft word because blogs do not allow copy and paste blablablabla)

yes, you would be correct in thinking that i had to spell check the word SAUNA. i mean really!! i feel a passionate hatred for myself AND my intellect at times like this. (hueeeuurrrr) < sigh.

train stations always bring up such bloggable characters.

2009-11-22T02:16:00.001-08:00

so fucking pissed off.
waiting for the train,
it's delayed,
again.

stamping my feet and scaring hoards of lazy college-goers sitting in clumps on the concrete.
screaming and screaming and, "this is what made lily scared of you before",
oh fucking hell.

trudie with her massive massive fluffy russian hat which gives her such remarkable head presence asking if it's something she's done.
no.
it isn't.
i wish i knew why i got in certain moods.
but i do not.
i do not know why sometimes i wake up and feel so ecstatic and then...
the next day i sit digging grooves in my hands with my fingernails as people's horrible voices make me flinch with anger and,
i wish
i had
a valid reason.
but i do not.

"i think i need to HIT something!!!!!!!!!!!!" trudie holds out her arm. no. i couldn't hit trudie. too. much. fucking. head presence. but i go and kick the wall hard and it really really hurts OW but i pretend it doesn't. "that made me feel better" and people are probably staring but who even cares when i feel this hot inside my head, a sauna in my brain i swear. ARGH.
"i don't know how to actually stop," i jiggle staring at trudies massive amazing hat.
i wish i could stop mentioning her hat
but really. it's such a big part of my life.

"i think you need a cigarette," says trudie, who smokes.
"yeah, i think i do!" says me, who doesn't.
i was of course
joking.

but this beautiful man with a slightly greasy face and a ponytail and a tiny beard and a traveller's shirt... that's how i will describe it, a traveller's shirt... came up to me with a cigarette (not a "rolly", which i have been told is significantly different and apparently better) between his knowledgeable fingers and he grins and says, "it's better than you damaging your feet."
and i tell him that his offer is so kind,
if not a little cancerous.
and trudie says,
"you should have taken it and given it to me."
although, she only likes the type you roll. the rollies.

the other day i heard a student call it "the smoking area"
instead of "smokers"
and i felt ridiculously pleased.

alex, stop blogging, it makes you look like you have no life.

2009-11-19T11:54:00.001-08:00

and you would NOT be wrong about that!!

but i keep forgetting to report an event i experienced yesterday when leaving the train station.

"bad day at the office," slurred a drunken nothing, buried in his scuffed brown coat and his eyes rolling around above deep ugly wrinkles. "it'sssss always a bad day."

silently (and used to it) trudie, brittany, nikki and i stood in all our Obviously-Just-Come-From-College-Clutching-Our-Meaningless-Folders-We-Are-Young-Please-Don't-Hurt-Us glory, staring at this man, as he delved inside his coat and said (i use that term very loosely) "weelll, ya know WOT?" here ("i thought he was going to pull out a gun, man" said nikki later) he withdrew a hefty, hefty bottle of vodka and swung it in front of our faces. "i don't FUCKINGGG caaree.." (when written down, i've come to realise that the way he talks is the way that most teenage girls write on facebook and MSN. is this worrying? does this invoke concern within you? most of you - yes, you, i have an "audience" dominated by females - write the same way that a 50 year old drunken man talks. doesn't it? concern you? no?) he took a long, napoleon-dynamite-esque swig from the bottle and stumbled forward.
"neither do i," i heard myself say, then, "what did you say that for, you fucking idiot" said my brain. "it was so quiet," i heard my brain say back to itself.

he turned to me, and i could see all the veins pulsating in his face, patches of pink and yellow scattered across his skin and cracks in his tired lips. "whhaat?"
..."i said... i don't.. i don't care either. about. me. not you." WHAT THE FUCK ALEX.
"..ohhh," was his witty reply, and he proceeded to follow nikki and trudie along the pavement as they walked away.
and watching his uninspired, uncared about and filthy back stumbling into the distance i thought,

somebody gave birth to him.
birth certificates. baby books. stretch marks.
somebody stroked their bulging belly and wondered if he would be a boy or a girl.
somebody got up at 3 oclock in the morning and rocked his restless body until they felt like screaming, but i bet they didn't scream.
somebody stared at the back of his head in primary school and thought about sending him a valentine. somebody kissed him.
maybe, possibly, at one point in his life, somebody loved him?

or maybe i'm just romanticising this entire event.
he's just a drunk at a train station, alex.

2009-11-19T10:58:00.001-08:00

(PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS BLOG ENTRY FOR AN EXPLINATION ETC)

ENGLISH COURSEWORK

MONOLOGUE

By Alexandra Scarlett Mullen.

(A teenage girl shuffles onstage. The first thing we notice is her body – it is clear that she is overweight for a girl of her age, although she has made an effort with her appearance. Her hair is painstakingly curled and glossy, embellished with hair clips. It is also apparent that she took a lot of time with her make-up and clothes. Although her shape is vast, her ample belly is covered with an expensive-looking silk smock and she wears loose trousers. She dresses in a way that translates she isn't happy with her body and wants it to be as concealed as possible, as if wishing to give us the illusion she may be skinny underneath the voluminous layers of material. She walks over to a large armchair next to a table piled with magazines in the centre of the stage, panting as she walks as if movement takes a great deal of effort. Once seated, she attempts to catch her breath, her hands on her knees and hanging her head whilst taking deep uneven breaths.)

I saw a lovely pair of jeans yesterday. (She stops short, as if she thinks she has caught her breath, but now needs to regain it. She laughs at herself, feebly.) Sorry. Just a minute. (She breathes in again, slowly.) Dear me. Yes. Jeans. Absolutely lovely, they were. That sort of acid-wash thing that's in at the minute, do you know what I mean? Actually… (As if an idea has just occurred to her, she reaches for a fashion magazine on the table next to her and clumsily flicks through until she finds the right page) These are the ones. TopShop! (She holds up the magazine, and a skeletal model is pictured wearing a pair of acid-wash skinny jeans. She turns the magazine towards herself, staring at the picture wistfully. She titters awkwardly.) Ha-ha…Just look at her! She looks awful… no meat on her bones at all… (She looks down at the picture) I can actually see the hunger in her eyes, (she looks up and smiles as she says this) she's saying, (she adopts a squeaky voice) "Feed me! Feed me! I want a double cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake!" (She becomes momentarily distracted) I could go for that right now. But not that McDonalds milkshake, they make them all watery. Not enough flavour.

(She puts the magazine down) Anyway, I was in TopShop with mum…. She loves the scarves they do, you see, although nothing else in there really takes her fancy. Not that she wouldn't be able to wear their clothes; she's got legs like little pins! (She demonstrates with her hands) absolutely tiny, too small, like she'll break… and we have arguments about that all
the time (she sighs) I say, "Mum, get some meat on your bones!" but she just munches on little salads and that. It gets on my nerves. And then she always says, "You'd be so pretty if you didn't eat so much, if you went on a diet…" like I'd want to be like her!! (Her voice rises towards the end of this sentence. She breathes out heavily.) We were in the jeans section. A wonderful display, you know, jeans all stuck in different positions with wire or something. It looks so clever… and I saw the acid wash jeans, and I showed mum. (Pause) "Look," I said, "Like the ones in my magazine." She just nodded all smug with herself; she gets this look like she's smelled something bad. "Yes," she went, "But do they have them in your size?" Well, I felt through the pile but the biggest I could find was a 14. And I'm not a 14… (A tiny, self-deprecating snort escapes her.) Yeah. So, mum grabs them from me, rude, and puts them against my legs. "Oh, they might fit," she goes, and I know she's trying to make me feel bad. "Just try them on, love; the fitting rooms are over there." I got annoyed then. (Frustrated) I'm not a 14!

One of them snooty shop assistant types saw us arguing, and she was wearing the jeans, (she laughs) ha-ha. Is that what they call irony? Anyway she came over in her high heels, clomping away, and said "Is there a problem? Anything I can help with?" My mum just rolls her eyes. "My daughter wants to try on these jeans," which is just stupid. Seeing as, you know, that was exactly what I didn't want to do… the reason we were arguing, in fact. The assistant made her eyes go big, confused, and she had on this glittery eye shadow... I'd like something a bit like that. She went, "the fitting rooms are over there" - which I already know, thank you - only mum goes, "Well, I suppose they're not quite her size."

Well, I went red then. I flapped about, "Oh it's fine, forget it!" Only she's got other ideas, this "Alyssa", her name tag says. "There are probably some larger sizes in the stock room." And off she trots. I just couldn't be bothered with it, it was all so embarrassing. I went, "mum, can we just go?" but she was having none of it! "You need new jeans." Oh God. (She rubs her forehead) I knew we were making a bit of a scene… and then I saw a couple of girls from my class. (She winces, recalling the moment) Eurgh. They laughed at me… in that way they have where only I can notice that they are. I just stormed out of there.

It should be easy, you know? (Her voice sounds shaky, as if she might cry.) It should be easy!!! (She stands up) to buy a pair of jeans! (She becomes louder, more desperate) Girls my age can do it ALL THE TIME without all this fuss!! Sometimes I wish… (She sighs) It sounds funny but I wish I could escape from myself, do you know what I mean?? (She whimpers) just escape from my stupid body, it holds me back! (She sighs, turns around and sits down.)

I'm all out of breath now.

ENGLISH COURSEWORK PARTLY COMPLETED!!!

2009-11-19T10:19:00.001-08:00

i still have to write a commentary, but whatever, above (i.e the next post on this blog) is the monologue that i had to write for english and if anybody with fingers and a semi-intelligent brain is reading this i'd really like some feedback please thankyou :) there is a fabulous comment box below this post, write it there!!! it will reach my eyes shortly after!! i will be appreciative! :D

basically, we had to write a speech or a monologue based on the theme of entrapment and somehow link it to the collector by john fowels. i chose to write about an obese teenage girl who feels trapped inside her own body and wants to be able to, uh, look pretty and stuff (my actual commentary will hopefully be better than this). i've linked it to the collector by saying it uses "increased desperation", the same as how miranda felt when she was trapped by clegg (these are characters in the collector although the second one also happens to be ma dadas last name!! ^_^) we had to give our character a distinctive idiolect, so, hahahah.. urmmmm, i chose to give my character an idiolect consisting of basic sentances and mundane vocabulary because I AM A BIG FAT SLACKER. :D so yes, read the monologue (the next post). I WILL EAT YOUR FEEDBACK, INGEST IT AND LOVE IT INSIDE MY TUMMY.

please read my next post for the monologue itself :D

the ghost of corperate future.

2009-11-18T13:02:00.000-08:00

i can remember the day i before i bought my new phone and it rained and i saw you.

your anorak (i remember thinking, an anorak, that's beautiful) slicked with rain, your hair stubbornly plastered to your damp forehead and driplets running off your smiling face.

of course you were there, of course it was you, of course it was lovely and of course i felt sick. why would you say anything about the weather? why? wouldn't that be an utterly fruitless exercise? haha, of course it would. it made no difference to you, and you didn't even mention it. that's amazing. it could have been boiling hot sun, but no, you stood there dripping wet in your beautiful anorak with your beautiful smile and said nothing.

and you squinted at me as i talked too quickly, asking questions with my hands instead of my mouth and becoming increasingly aware of my cold damp clothes. my incongruous denim shorts (i thought it would be sunny) and my t-shirt and you didn't bat an eyelid. "no," you said, when i asked you a question that had been on my mind all day. and i just replied with, "oh," and i can't pretend to feel a certain way. i was obviously dissapointed. and you obviously didn't notice. i suppose we both need to work on our people skills.

and now the phone i got the next day has broken.

and it's been raining an awful lot, hasnt it.

and you're gone.

johnny cash invades my upper-torso.

2009-11-14T09:53:00.000-08:00

FINALLY!!!! within my posession, the beautiful beautiful JOHNNY CASH T-SHIRT, which i have officially wanted for longer than is healthy, ever since i saw it advertised in NME magazine! IT SAID THE RELEASE DATE, WHEN IT WOULD BE IN STOCK IN HMV.

however, when i ventured into HMV at least 3 days after said release date, i was very snootily told that, "no, we don't carry that in our range.." as if i had asked if please may i have a mangled pig carcuss that plays madonna when you stamp on it if that's alright thankyou.

AND YET WHEN I WENT IN THERE TO-DAY, WHAT SHOULD BE SAT THERE IN ALL IT'S FULLY PACKAGED, TIGHTLY WRAPPED, MIDDLE-FINGER-STICKING-UP GLORY... but the johnny cash t-shirt.

i feel incredibly dissatisfied with my life when i read my blogs sometimes.

3 paragraphs about a t shirt embellished with a popular folk singer.

never mind.

so the maths exam, alex? how did that go?

just lovely. i assure you. i sat right at the back, gazed out on everybody's adolescent and disinterested hands scrawling wrong answers onto dotted lines, had a wobbly table, admired the girl's face sat opposite me (she looked so much like cameron diaz and also maybe a duck) and enjoyed the general Maths Exam atmosphere..which WE ALL KNOW we would much like to bottle and pour into pubs across england, it is just so lively and fun.

oh right.. the content of the exam.

the exam itself.

the maths.

yes.

well.

top heavy fractions can relate to Pamela Anderson, and sometimes i do maths.

2009-11-12T12:32:00.000-08:00

The Maths Exam is to-morrow.

are you excited?

i feel oddly calm about the whole thing - I KNOW i won't do very well, but for some reason i was just lying there (in the bath) thinking,

i musn't forget to tie my hair back.
everyone has to tie their hair back,
and i wonder what her ears look like?
i should wear a cardigen so i can take it off and sit on it.
plastic chairs distract me immensly.
the cardigen could act as a cushion?
and i can concentrate on fractions and decimals and indices and percentages.
and i hope it doesn't rain.

there's nothing worse than a maths exam dripping with condensation and smelling of dirty grass.
but usually there are panic-stricken, 2cm tall maths teachers running around inside my brain, poking me with their easy-fold rulers and screaming and screaming and telling me i'm going to fail because i need to revise revise now alex poke poke scream scream!!!!

they have gone away on holiday for a bit.

i expect they'll sit inside contemplating their sad existence whilst the rest of the world suns themselves and they will hunch over their beaten textbooks wishing they could poke my brain some more.

but i won't let them.
my friends,
the best friends,
the best friends who i love,
have been so incredible.

bippie has such a pretty teacher smile and says, "sorry if i've confused you" and draws her eights like snowmen and i want her to become a professional tutor who tutors people professionally in a professional manner and recieves money and all that.

people who i don't know have been helping me.
trudie helped me a lot, thankyou love.
and i love her.
and i LOVE HER!!! (8)
the beatles express the way i feel for my friends better than i do.

and thankyou, everyone. :D
monumental speech over.

oh i've become so fantastically addicted to typing out every ramble which rambles inside my head, as they barge past the maths teachers and laugh uncontrollably when they land on their unco-ordinated arses and grab eachothers hands to share the joke.

i just can't keep them inside my head anymore and my fingers just furiously molest every key on this keyboard until i've got another few blog posts and i'm starting to like it actually.
not necessarily the blog itself but typing out everything i think, i think everything and type it out. everything is typed out as i think it. i thought it. i thought it and now it is yours!

maths. maths now.

attractive headgear dominates my life.

2009-11-09T13:43:00.001-08:00

oh my wow wow wow.
it is so absoloutely amazingly chilly weather!!
on the way home from the train station walking like an old man with no shoes and my sleeves are too big and the wind's giving me goosebumps and it's wonderful.

and i have a magical new hat.
red.
a magical red hat. and i'm going to wear it. outside. and in.

4 exact whole days until The Maths Exam.
i realised that most people who keep these blogs are aiming for something, or working towards something, or pushing against something.. a lot of the time it's to record their progress, i think.
i think, anyway.

i'm working towards not failing maths, and i can't help but feel amazingly unmotivated. why are you re-taking it? to get into university. why do you want to go to university?

and i don't know.
and i'm thinking.
and i'm thinking it's because i don't want to miss out.
and i'm thinking, i should stop doing things purely because i don't want to miss out.

and i'm thinking about university. and i'm thinking campus dorm rooms people with folders and coffee cups and auditoriums with podiums and lecturers with beards and i'm thinking why.

i want to be a writer. why do i need to go to university?
and i don't. not really. except the vast majority of the world claim it's something that you absoloutely have to do in order to find yourself and jon richardson said, "i went to uni and found out i'm a twat."
and maybe i'm a twat.

why is that the place where people say you find yourself? is it because you're away and coping alone and cupboards stacked with cans of baked beans dominate your evening meal and "oh god those ruddy students" and smoking outside book shops and brown and beige and white.
that's what i think of. hats and jackets with hoods and pointy shoes and so many things and why do i want to be in this category?

20% off in HMV? 2 pizzas for the price of 1? an ugly I.D card i can flash at bus drivers like an undercover cop and select a seat next to the window, and later an old woman will wedge her pull-along tartan trolly in the seat beside me while she stands up and holds tightly onto the bar above my head and why doesn't she just sit down?

when you're trying not to think about integers.
when you're trying not to think about integers.
when you're trying not to think about integers.

i never even realised how sexy Claudia Winkleman is!

2009-11-08T03:58:00.000-08:00

i am so lucky.

you are so great. you are so tolerant. you are so selfless.

fantastic mr. fox seems somewhat adult seeing as it's based on a book primarily aimed at children. a chubby toddler darted out of the cinema half way through the film, past my seat and waddling along the sticky floor. restless or afraid of animated animals and angry farmers? i'd say restless, although his cretinous mother barely moved after his escape. i shouldn't be poking my nose in.

press conferences with the cast and director of the film.

"wes, i am wondering whether you intentionally envoked czech filmmakers like jan svankmajer, who used it for politically subversive ends?"

...."that's the kind of question we've been hoping for, lady. that's why we flew over here."

pretentious journalists. bill murray is brilliant. contradiction is fantastic... empire magazine with a bad review of "taking woodstock" inside and then an advertisement for it on the back cover.
winter sun!! i feel so excited. evening in the morning. an excuse to cover up. i hope it snows this year. last year mr. shapcott huddled in his padded jacket and wooly hat, "it's closed to-day," as if our school were a shop. my agitated dad indignantly driving away from school as i tried to stop my knee bobbing. dancing to mark ronson when i got home because nothing was mandatory. trudie and dvds and snowball fights. me myself and irene at 2 oclock on a tuesday and who needs education when you have jim carrey?

to-day, somebody in my AS-Level english class asked me if shakespeare was a writer. tears welled.

2009-11-06T10:32:00.000-08:00

two blogs in one day?
within about five minutes of each other?
i'm thinking maybe alex needs to get herself a lovely little life.
and my keyboard is acting like a dickhead, ignore multiple/missing letters or typos.
it's another one of them self-indulgent quiz thingies that nobody reads..

-What is your best friends name?

matilda beatrice moonface clarke.

trudie angelica ruth carter-pavelin.

i love the fact my friends have amazing names :):)

-What color underwear/boxers wearing now?

black and pink!! it's just so incredibly clever because they HAVE A BOW ON THEM, except it's PRINTED on... so it looks like a real bow, but they saved on material BECAUSE ITS NOT!!!

-What are you listening to right now?

absoloutely nothing, the speakers on this computer are broken. the sound of my weary enervated fingers smacking away at my damaged keyboard is unfortunately all i can hear right now..

-Whats your favorite number?

i have incredible admiration for whole numbers such as 20 or 30. we all know which number i DO NOT appreciate......

-What was the last thing you ate?

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUP. hooray for prolonged vowels!

-If you were a crayon what color would you be?

well thinking about it logically, i'd want to be a colour that nobody liked in order to prevent getting my head smushed viciously against a piece of paper by an enthusiastic toddler..

so probably sort of a sludgy browny green. i definitely wouldn't be a black crayon because that's the one that everybody snaps up first to draw the outline-- jesus.. i think i need a job..

-How is the weather right now?

DARK!!!!!! <3

-Who was the last person you talked 2 on the phone?

*two, baby, not 2.

and it was the mothership. she phoned up in order to discuss trivial matters!

-The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?

THIS QUESTION CONFUSES ME. i do not notice individual parts of their body one by one according to what attracts me to them the most.. i take it all in at once unless they have a particularly distinctive and unique feature such as a massive afro or a tattoo on their forehead or something!!

-Do you have a significant other?

everybody is my significant other :)

-Favorite TV show?

THERE ARE TOO MANY BUT I WILL LIST A TINY AMOUNT.

doctor who. black books. spaced. the IT crowd. jonathan creek.

-Siblings?

no siblings for me!!

-Height?

just tall enough to rest my chin on the edge of my porthole window, not so tall that people always ask me for piggy back rides in order to make them feel like they're flying on the wings of a giant. with wings.

-Hair color?

good question!

-Eye Color?

some say grey, some say blue, i say the colour of a puddle!!

-Month?

NOVEMBERMYEXAMISINAWEEKIAMGOINGTOCRY.

-Have you ever cried for no reason?

yes!! all the time!

-What was the last movie you watched?

all the way through?? wow isn't that terrible. i don't remember the last film i watched all the way through because of all the tiny clips we watch in film studies and media...

-Favorite Day of the Year?

my birthday (YES, I LIKE MY BIRTHDAY!!! I SWEAR NOBODY ENJOYS THIS DAY!) and CHRISTMAS and halloween!! :D:D

-Can you do a headstand (not using the wall)?

NO! THIS DOES NOT AMUSE ME.

-Hugs or Kisses?

it honestly depends who from!! i'd prefer a hug if we're talking about complete strangers, i probably wouldn't be too thrilled if somebody i didn't know engaged in a meeting of mouths with me..

-Chocolate or Vanilla?

CHOCOLATE!

-Do you want your friends to respond to this?

it does not particularly throw me into a state of angst, i'll be honest.

-Who is most likely to respond?

nobody will respond!

-Who is least likely to respond?

nobody will respond!

-What books are you reading?

i'm lacking in literature at the moment. recommendations??

-Piercings?

NONE!! ohhh no!

-Favorite movies?

let's not. there are a fair few.

-Favorite football Team?

yes. definitely. i have one of those.

-What were you doing before this?

writing my previous blog..... -bangs head against metephorical wall of dissapointment-

(hey, it's almost like T.I.C but not as good!! hhhahahaha)

-Butter, Plain or Salted popcorn?

all at once please, or is that not done?? actually, plain, you can get out. the other two i'm down with.

-Dogs or cats?

CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATS.

me and prolonged vowels = bestfriends???

-Favorite flower?

hahahaha i don't fucking know.

-Been caught doing something you weren't supposed to do?

LOL, this DOESN'T count, but that just reminds me of the time when me and merty were laughing about the jumper and then...... haaaa.

-Have you ever loved someone?

i love everyone!

well, i love most people.

but i've never been IN love.

if such a thing exists..

-Who would you like to see right now?

MERTY. <3

-Are you still friends with people from kindergarten?

paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

no. i'm only close with one person from my primary school and we weren't even friends during said period of time.. because i was a massive LOSER. and i still am! yayyy!

-Have you ever fired a gun?

ye muthafucka bitch i will mess u up dnt diss!

CAN YOU IMAGINE ME WITH A GUN. i'd drop it. i'd drop it good.

-Do you like to travel by plane?

it is a neutral feeling of I-Dont-Really-Care-ness!!!

-How many pillows do you sleep with?

one regularly, two on the bed of death.. but not on top of each other. one under my head and the other acts as a sort of punching bag for my frustration when i cannot sleep.

-Are you missing someone?

YES. MERTY. IN MY LIFE PLEASE THANKYOU.

-Do you have a Tattoo?

noo not at the moment but joe's music note tempts me. it tempts me greatly.

-Anybody on myspace that you'd go on a date with?

mc lars? he counts, right? i have him on myspace.. and people only use it for music now therefore he's probably one of the only people that's properly ON myspace apart from that popular, popular tom fellow. he had his time.

yes.

y = mcwhat?

2009-11-06T10:12:00.000-08:00

okay, so i've come to realise something.

it's not me that's wrong. it's maths.
I'M COMPLETELY SERIOUS!!!! i'm not the one who doesn't understand MATHS, it's just that MATHS is actually fundamentaly STUPID. i read some of the questions and i just think.. i just think.. I JUST THINK "SURELY FUCKING NOT???"

sometimes when i'm flicking through my vomit-inducing book of practice papers i will come across a question that makes me feel certain that math is actually INANE, and WRONG, and cannot articulate it's problems properly!!! BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT IS. a ridiculous amalgamation of pointless, unsolvable problems that ARE NOT. NEEDED.

i will never, ever EVER need to know how much money debbie has saved by using her holiday membership to pay for a meal!! i will never, ever EVER need to know how much change lucy has from her shopping trip on which she bought 5 dvds, 3 dresses and a bag (which dvds? why 5? who goes out and buys 5 dvds at a time? i've never done that. i'd like to. i would if i had enough money. lucy had 100 pounds, did you know that? so how much change does she have?) and i will never, ever EVER NEED TO FUCKING KNOW ABOUT ANY OF THE SITUATIONS WHICH HYPOTHETICAL CHILDREN NAMED IQBAL OR MANISH WHO YOU THREW IN TO ILLUSTRATE RACIAL EQUALITY FIND THEMSELVES IN!!! look, why doesn't manish just give iqbal ALL HIS MARBLES, so that i don't need to work out the percentage that he has left after they share them out???? why won't the bus just arrive on time so i don't have to calculate how long Liz waits at the bus stop if she leaves her house at 08:04???? AND WHY THE FUCK IS PAT STANDING ON WEIGHING SCALES HOLDING THREE IDENTICAL PARCELS, MAKING A TOTAL WEIGHT OF 64.3 KILOGRAMS?? HOW DOES THIS BENEFIT HIM???

holy shit. i'm going to fail.

are you going to put that in a poem or set it as your facebook status?

2009-11-04T12:39:00.000-08:00

What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
does energy drink count? i think it does. it entered the terrifying realms of my mouth area in order for me to digest it so.. i'm going to say that counts. energy drink. :D my pathetic attempt at perking myself up when i feel like smashing unsmashable things over my head..

Have you ever kissed anyone named Matthew?
non. no matthew for me!

Where was your default picture taken? (i got this quiz from facebook but lets apply it to my picture that i have on here)
in abi's garden.. when - i think - katie was trying to teach me guitar and bev just captured the moment in all it's glory thus making me look like an incredible musician instead of what i really am... a dirty dirty poser!

Last person you rode in a car with under the age of 20?
my beautiful bippie ^_^

Name someone that made you laugh today?
BIPPIE WHEN WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THE PUFF BOOK. THE BOOK OF PUFF.... IM SO FRIGGIN EXCITED ABOUT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How late did you stay up last night and why?
NOT LATE AT ALL. i literally went to bed at ABOUT HALF TEN!!!!!!! BUT I'M STILL REALLY REALLY FRIGGIN TIRED???????

If you could move somewhere else, would you?
Not right now, but when I've finished college, yep!!!!!

Ever been kissed under fireworks?
i do not believe so..!

Which of your friends lives closest to you?
The bipmister..... ;) <3

Do you believe ex's can be friends?
i honestly do, yes, although i seem to be a living breathing exeption to this rule?? having only had 2 "boyfriends" (hardehar) i cannot really talk, though. and one of them wasnt really. oh anyway.

Calling or texting?
at the moment, texting because the "calling" function on my PHONE (THE THING THAT THE PHONE WAS ORIGINALLY INVENTED FOR, BY THE WAY, JUST SAYING) doesn't work...

When was the last time you cried really hard?
ohhhh, i watched karen alloy's video about the death of her father and i geniunely started sobbing when she talked about how he donated his kidneys to somebody, and she is so gorgeous and i feel terrible for her because she only met him 5 years ago and he sounds so fantastic!! i know she won't read this but karen i love you and i think you're dealing amazingly with it!! <3

Where is your biological father right now?
in the living room!! ingesting indian food. but my adoptive korean father is out putting fishing gear into the back of our truck for when we head up to the lake at 5 am to catch some mighty fine ........... (im lying.....)

Where are you at right now?
inside my head banging my fists against my skull trying to get out and failing! :D

What bed did you sleep in last night?
the one situated within my mother's abode. however...to-night brings me.. THE BED OF DEATH. it is impossible to sleep in the bed at this house especially for somebody such as myself who has a massive difficulty sleeping anyway!

What was the last thing someone bought for you?
well....... lily bought me a small portion of the yorkie bar i purchased to-day because she gave me 10p towards it?? if not, THEN THE BOOK OF POEMS BY MC LARS THAT ADAM BOUGHT FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEE :D

Who took your profile picture?
bev the smev!! :D

Who was the last person you took a picture of?
oooo i dont even remember : i think it was at tammy's so probably joe dying on the floor or something?

Was yesterday better than today?
NO, TO-DAY I WAS KNOCKED OVER THE HEAD WITH THE SAUCEPAN OF RELIEF!!!!!!... and i had a spell binding shopping trip on which i purchased a NEON necklace for saturday's "rave" (i passionately and feircely despise that word!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Can you live a day without TV?
i believe so. :) i have not watched any to-day apart from the clips we had to watch in film studies... THERE WAS SUCH A SEXY ACTION SCENE OHHH MY GOD -drool- in "desperado", the remake of the independant spanish film, not...the independant spanish film itself (that scene isnt sexy) when he pulls the guns out of his sleeves and then fucking BLOWS THAT GUYS BRAINS OUTTTTT :D and when tarantino gets his head blown off but you don't see that in a lot of detail and how he keeps changing the guns ohhhh my god, i love the sound of people loading their guns up.... mmmmmmmmmmmmmm anyway. i could survive without that!

Are you mad about anything?
yeah i'm frustrated with my college work :(

Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
hahhaa. don't say relationship. i am 16. i don't think they are really worth much but i'm not saying you shouldn't GO OUT with people. you should do it purely because you like them though!! and to have fun!!! don't stay in a "relationship" and teach it like a massive adult responsibility if you argue all the time or whatever. just. yeah....have..fun :D

When was the last time you were extremely disappointed?
WHEN I FOUND OUT JAMES WAS OFF SICK. MY HEART SANK TO THE FLOOR AND EVERYBODY IN THE CORRIDOR TRIPPED ON IT AND IT WAS EMBARRASING FOR ALL INVOLVED!!!!

Are you a bad influence?
aaaahhahhahaa apparently i am on bippie?? she was saying that after she's been with me a while she starts making a dick of herself on the street and people tell her to be quiet >_< so apparently i make people make twats of themselves??? (that was my rephrasing of what she said by the way, she put it a lot nicer than that... AWKWARD PHRASING.)

Night out or night in?
out please!!!! unless i'm bleeding from my eyes or my legs are coming out of my ears or something equally attractive......

What items could you not go without during the day?
clothes, limbs, brain......... phone?

Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?
my father dearest. on my birthday too, hahha. yayy...

What does the last text message in your inbox say?
"Aaaah, i am a 32 E! Lol, why? Lol, your dad!! Love you!" (sorry alice)
okay. i know how this looks. but alice's bra size and my dad are totally unrelated topics, I SWEAR. and i also swear that i don't regularly enquire about the size of my friend's breasts. I WAS PRESENT SHOPPING. i PROMISE.

How do you feel about your life right now?
it's pretty alrightishly good-like thankyou.

Do you hate anyone, right now?
yes. :) i will always hate her for being a disgusting, ignorant racist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
cheerful alex cheerful.
but whatever, she deserves it.

If we were to look in your inbox, what would we find?
WHICH INBOX???????? if my email inbox, then... EMAILS. and if my text inbox...then....... TEXTS!!!!!!!!! :D

Can you easily tell if someones fake?
i think it's absoloutely obvious!!!!! but heyyyyy sometimes i'm not a very good judge of character because, ive descovered, i really don't know that much about humans or their emotions and i don't know how to deal with them. so evidently i might not be the best person to ask....

Say you were given a drug test right now, Would you pass?
NNHAHHAHHHH. SUCH A SUSPICIOUS TONE. TRUDIE WILL UNDERSTAND.

Has anyone called you perfect before?
oh my god, suprisingly YES!!! i have actually been called perfect but i geniunely think i am the biggest mess ever :D i don't know WHERE he got that from.. probably the fact that he was quite lonely

What song is stuck in your head?
BABY I CAN SEE YOUR HALO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BEYONCE YOU ARE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL GODDESS.

Someone knocks on your window at 2am, who do you want it to be?
there are so. many. things. i can put.

Wanna have kids before you’re 30?
nonononononononono

Name something you have to do tomorrow?
catch a lovely train!!

Can you whistle?
IM DA KING OF DA WHISTLAZ.
not really.
i can whistle okay, if needed ;)
WHY THE SLEAZY WINK ALEX??

Do you sleep on your side, stomach, or back?
this is so important to my life.

Do you think too much or too little?
i guarantee you, if you ask 10 teenage girls this question, they will ALL say too much. even if they never think beyond the necessary thoughts.. even if they completely run away from their thoughts, THEY WILL ALL SAY TOO MUCH. :D

Do you smile a lot?
yesssss because i am surrounded by people who make me smile!!!!!

Who was your last missed call on your Mobile
"mam mob"
oh wow, my social life is stunning.

What was the last book you read?
the collector by john fowels. :D

Honestly, who was the last person to tell you that they love you?
hahahhaa. OH IT HAS TO BE JAWSON. we have a special bond, me an' him. he always hugs for just a BIT too long though. work on that, Jaws baby. <3

Have you ever crawled through a window?
yessss ive done many a window crawlin in my time!!!!!! not as bad as when trudie JUMPED through my window and destroyed my pit of slumber (my bed)

Have you ever dyed your hair?
yes. a lot. i get bored of things!!!!

Are you wearing a necklace?
no no and this is a rarity, a barenaked neck makes for a disgruntled alex.

Are you an emotional person?
YES. >_<

What's something that can always make you feel better?
food!!!!!!!!!! television!!!!! mindless senseless panel shows and comedies starring up and coming british actors. musicmusicmusic. dancing up and down. things!! things!! things!!!

What do you want right now?
for the day to be a little longer so i can get more done / more sleep!!!!

Have you ever worn the opposite sex's clothing?
HA i probably wear an item of men's clothing about once a week!!!
so, yes. definitely yes.

Have you ever worked in a food place?
A FOOD PLACE. thats mind numbingly fantastic vocabulary....
no, and it would be hell hell hell if i did. i would drop something every single day and stains and broken legs would occur left right and center. people would get injured and mops would be salvaged from the back of unused cupboards. people would cry including me. i will stick to fantasizing about working in GAME and blockbuster and never actually handing in my CV :D

What would you name your future daughter?
BONSUELA FANDAGO THE TRABANDALA SAJ RAJ POOTNIZ THE THIRD.

whenever i turn on my hairdryer, i feel compelled to sing.

2009-11-03T09:35:00.000-08:00

it's because it drowns out my voice. maths is hard. difficult difficult should be revising. maths problems. "if lauren subscribes to a magazine that costs 2.75 a month for a year, how much does she pay for the year?"
what magazine is lauren subscribing to. why is she subscribing for just one year. is it a music magazine. she's a musician. i wonder what she plays. bass. definitely bass. she's one of those bass players with long hair. hipster jeans. she should change her name. lauren isn't a bass player's name. she must be in a band. i wonder what they're called. HOW MUCH WILL SHE PAY FOR THE YEAR ALEX???????????

dropped the lid of my orange juice inside my glass. my life is average. delayed trains. red snacks.. kit kat. doctor pepper. matching. chipped nails. wet shoes. rain. i never ever get interesting texts. talk to me. talk to me. talk to me. found my keys. so so very behind on coursework. baths toothpaste skin wash. i keep looking up at the same time as this girl in my english class and it always looks like i've been staring at her. john fowels created a complex character in frederick clegg. he's aggressive when it's needed but has a non-voilent disposition. he's fragile. he's virginal. he's twenty-five years old. miranda is only twenty. he won't have sex with her because he can't but he wants her as his guest. the collector. sore elbows. my jeans are too big. dad yelling at the television.

i miss you.

just how important is maths to you, alex?

2009-11-02T13:59:00.001-08:00

Tire marks that look like bruises.

Unhealthy laughter jerks and oozes.

Her tongue trips you up like a delicate rug

Roll it off your shoulders with a sickening shrug.

Your heart-warming children with their hungry pot bellies

Call you by your first name and work in the deli.

Stop chewing on Big Brother, your lips are getting sore.

Wipe reality from your mouth,

because fiction is the cure.

have you ever...

2009-11-01T02:56:00.001-08:00

have you ever woken up after something bad has happened, and in your bleary-eyed state of barely awake you only remember half the details, thus fooling yourself - unintentionally - into thinking "oh my god!! what was i worried about..it's not even that bad!!"

until you slowly slide back into consciousness and everything starts to slot straight back to where it was before you fell asleep. you remember everything again.

and it's like sinking into an ice cold bath.

Paralysed with shock.

2009-10-31T03:51:00.001-07:00

i'll admit i have recovered now, slightly..well, i'll never FULLY recover.. a few days ago i nearly posted a blog about how i couldn't go to MC Lars' concert sorry GIG which was being held in bournemouth even though i'd been offered a free ticket. however, i came to the conclusion that i would not post it as it was a pile of shit and just about my self-pity, basically..oh wait.. the theme of a lot of blogs, much? haha. anyway.

the person who i was going to attend said concert sorry GIG with happened to GET ME MC LARS' AUTOGRAPH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

with with with withththth LIKE A MESSAGE THINGIE THAT SAID HE FELT ME IN SPIRIT. OKAY. LET'S JUST REVIEW THE SITUATION. MC LARS. MY GOD. MY HERO. THE MAN BEHIND HIPSTER GIRL, INTERNET RELATIONSHIPS AND MR. RAVEN.......... FELT. MY. SPIRIT.

i wasn't aware that i had one.
i wasn't even AWARE THAT I HAD ONE BUT HE FELT IT!!!!!

yeah i'm totally chilled out and laid back about this. my foot isn't doing this weird jiggly thing as i type. not at all. in the slighest.
anyway, to anybody reading this who may have talked to me last night, sorry i responded with a fountain of inarticulate ramble. because i definitely did. and if i said anything that sounded like it didn't make sense, it was because i couldn't think. some may call it overreacting but no, i'm just.berhieurhuihruiew

anyway if he's reading this i want to say thankyou so much to adam for getting it for me!!!! it's the best thing i've ever recieved in my life AND HOW COULD I NOT MAKE A BLOG ABOUT THE FACT THAT MC LARS' HANDWRITING IS CURRENTLY ON A PIECE OF PAPER INSIDE MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER???????????????????????????????? (yeah, i keep important things in my underwear drawer. don't judge.) it will probably be on my wall soon.......IHWEIUHIUWQH

anyway, last night i attended ...And the Magical 8-Ball Band's concert sorry GIG (http://www.myspace.com/welike8balls) at a place which i have forgotten the name of. i think it was something to do with stars? i used to have such a good memory.

i think you should go and let their beautiful music caress your ear lobes in a slightly innapropriate but pleasurable manner.

"have you ever actually been to Stockholm, Lars?"

"...no, but my family on my mom's side is Swedish American!"

oh, dear.

2009-10-29T14:02:00.000-07:00

it has become apparent to me that i am really not very good at blogging.

when i say this, i don't mean i am bad at keeping up to date, i mean i physically cannot actually write. i cannot write well. it's a disability. and yet i keep a blog? it's sort of like somebody with no legs becoming an olympic runner. OH MY GOD ALEX, NO IT ISN'T!! What the hell is WRONG with me?? it is NOTHING like that, because for starters, there would be preconcieved problems before he even "became" a runner, thus preventing this from actually happening in the first place! i mean i'm not very good at blogging but it's not as if i physically.... do you know what i am good at?? mindless, senseless rambling. i'm fucking amazing at it. i could do it for hours.

so, i am "better" now. the reason i squidge this word between quotation marks is because.. well... it's quite a massive lie. i'm in denial. except i'm aware of my denial, so perhaps this renders it redundant?? i'm not sure, anyway, i'm at the point where i can just about manage to stifle my cough to convince my mum that i am "99.9 percent better!! i swear!!" and then my eyes start watering so i pretend that i'm thinking about that poignant episode of Fraiser where Niles gets a heart transplant! oh my god, when Daphne smashes the vending machine!!!!!!!!!!!

it concerns me that this made my cry, whereas i came out of My Sister's Keeper not wet-eyed because of the innocent girl's battle with cancer, but extremely disgruntled (word of the week?) that £5 of my money had been taken from me in order to sit me in front of what i can only describe as a battle of dramatic monologues interspersed with cameron diaz acting like an ugg-boot-clad psycho. i distinctly remember she was wearing this particular type of footwear because her legs are extraordinarily skinny and the fatness of the ugg boot only accentuated this. whatever. i wanted to see the Hangover.

i cannot watch "girlie" movies.

...actually, what a collosal fib, i adore Mean Girls!
Lindsay Lohan when she still had a bit of meat on her bones and wasn't going out with Mark Ronson's sister.

there's something really perverted about that sentance... but i'm having trouble deciphering where the pervertedness is most prominent... perhaps the phrase "meat on her bones"? this seems slightly innapropriate when describing a sought-after Hollywood...... nothing. she is actually nothing. in the words of John Green, do not make Lindsay Lohan your silver-backed gorilla.

"is butter a carb?"

current TV

2009-10-25T07:51:00.001-07:00

this morning, whilst huddled beneath the makeshift cave i have created on my sofa, i descovered a brand new channel. this arose as i was flicking back and forth between MTV and E! Entertainment. yes, intellectually stimulating i know. and wonderfully helpful with my maths. anyway, the latest installment of "Kourtney and Khloe take Miami" was just starting on E!, so that was out of the question. I don't know about anyone else but watching a pair of sexually-driven hedonistic sisters with no real career paths and a disability to spell their own names doesn't actually entertain me. at all. in the slightest. although i love the announcer guys voice, he sounds so completely convinced that these girls WILL take miami - and like he gargles with pencil sharpenings every morning. and to be honest, maybe it's just the fame thing but even boys in clubs seem interested in the fat one.. maybe there's just something about them.

what was my point?

ah yes. Current TV. i think the reason for it's title is derived from its "weirdness", which it can only get away with if it claims that it's unflinchingly post modern... in the words of MC Lars, "i'm so post modern i don't even exist". maybe this is what they were aiming for.
anyway, they showed this short film by someone named "moon_junior" (i forget his real name). welcome to my new favourite channel.

here is the link.

http://current.com/items/89199963_sexy-girls-have-it-easy.htm

i hope it provokes some thought, if nothing else.
and i am not claiming, by the way, that this is some massive surprise. we all know that sexy girls get free cake.
i just found it entertaining.

i find a lot of things entertaining.

a fresh start.

2009-10-24T12:15:00.001-07:00

i honestly cannot read my old blogs without feeling an overwhelming desire to throw up - although i still saved them all in a Word document just in case one day i actually descover they are the most incredible and revoloutionary thing i've ever written - and so, i'm starting all over again. i love how i'm addressing this like it's really important when i only have 2 followers!! i'm sure their guts will churn with dissapointment when they read that the old blog is gone forever!

so it's back to the maths. the lovely, perpetually despicable maths.. (can i just say, while i was writing this, kanye west's "school spirit skit 2" came on my itunes shuffle, a song which starts with the line "now, you roll, man... you read those books full of things you're never guna remember.." thank you very much for that, kanye. i'll just slice this GCSE maths text book into various bite sized pieces and toss it up with tomatoes to make some kind of numerical garden salad, shall i?) anyway. i suppose this year is slightly different because i'm not lodged against the back wall as far away from the rest of the class as possible. i have 2 FRIENDS in this class! which is 2 more than last year!!! it'll probably make it harder, not easier, but whatever. the other day i flew into a raging fit of panic when i realised my maths exam is on the 13th of next month and i've been too ill to revise.

hahaha, yes, swine flu jokes aren't worn out at all... please, continue to hurl them at me as if we're both part of some fantastic revelation stuffed full of hilarity!
i've been off college all week and now it's half term, about 3 essays have been set while i've been off, i'm not joking, i must have missed so much! it would be gorgeously lovely not to fail my A Levels. seeing as that plan didn't really unfold too sweetly with my GCSE's.

my legs are freezing. winter is beautiful. my back hurts. cough cough.