KEEPROLLINROLLINROLLINUPKEEPROLLINROLLINROLLIN

I've been model scouted on a morning after a weekend of no sleep & self medication, I've had hour long conversations with a charity worker about physics & life & hair that resulted in bribing & him taking a photo of my tattoo on his phone, I've been talked into getting married (but obviously didn't actually) by old ladies at bus stops.

& today I was stopped in the center & interviewed by a woman for an X Factor magazine. Yes. Apparently it's to include style & music & when pressed for style inspiration from the music world the only thing she really picked up on was when I said that my sister had pointed out how like Frankie from the Saturday's my hair was. I don't really count that as a valid hair style inspiration, in fact barely a person who registers in my cerebral. But she liked that, so my vintage/meets-gap/meets-french-la-senza-oysho outfit will (if it appears at all) be accompanied by a picture of this non human no doubt. As my style inspiration. Ok.

The world is a strange & wonderful place.









Going to be doing a giveaway hopefully next post but can't decide what you lovely people would have to do to win. Would you be willing to take photos? Or is that too far? Hmm...I will work on something interesting, promise.

Also: apologies on the photo in the last post...my mother. & this one in fact, shows why I should never smile in photographs. But Reading was absolutely fanawtasmic, not able to be sufficiently expressed through words but comes close in what I screamed at my friend after the Libertines on Saturday night, "I think my heart just exploded."

Nuff said.



PS. On the Libertines front, I have to say that feeling of building yourself up for disappointment made me feel a little sick after they arrived on time & got through the first song. But having heard they had breaks in both legs of the R+L festival for "security reasons" & the fact that Pete had long sleeves on for both performances did nothing for my worry & sadness... I have to say though that at least he remembered the words correctly unlike Carl Barat. But nothing, not even Arctic Monkeys last year, beat that. My friend fainted & none of us wanted to haul over the barrier with her & leave the performance, that's how amazing it was. (she was fine, obviously!) I dunno, does anyone still care?

R.E.A.D.I.N.G

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Rucksacks packed with no clothes.
Shit where's my tent? You can sleep in mine.
I'm covered in mud or sunburn.
With a big fucking grin on my face.

POETRYTHURSDAY±11

Hüm (noun)
by Jen Hadfield

(For Bo)

Twilight, gloaming;
to walk blind
against the wind;

to be abject; lick snot
and rain from the top lip
like a sick calf.

To be blinded by rain
from the north.

To be blinded
by westerly rain.

To walk uphill
into a tarry peatcut
and bluster a deal
with the Trowes.

To cross the bull's field
in the dark.

To pass in the dark
a gate of hollow bars
inside which the wind is broaling.

To pass in the dark
a byre like a rotten walnut.

To not know the gate
till you run up against it.

This will be the last poetry Thursday for now. I never really liked it as much as I thought I would, but I will continue to post poetry because you know...some of it is actually pretty good!

I'MYOURWOMBAT

Today has been a funny day.

Last night I revisited some old habits & ended up the proud owner of this lovely green jumper.

I try not to make a habit of stealing other peoples clothes - anymore - but someone stole my rather lovely oversized t-shirt first so to hell with it.

Why won't it stop raining?

I'm in love with this nail varnish which I borrowed from Toby's little sister in NY. Now in search of my own version, any suggestions?

Me & Jesus walked home & were armed with so many plans:

Unfortunately though my Mother made off with both our pairs of car keys

So we made a rather lovely pistachio cake instead & I caught up on all your comments

Sorry for the disjointedness. I'm still on about GMT -3 rather than -5, so I'm getting there but I have heavy thoughts & Ida Maria on repeat so who knows what could happen.

Once photos are developed I will elaborate more on Paris & clothes (more importantly) but Camp America was a bit of a let down even though I picked up some lovely new friends I don't think I'll be repeating it.

Oh & I'm very happy with my first A Level after 2 years being an A* in Photography. I also gained 2 more B grade AS's from Physics (an improvement on last years D) and English Lit & I got a C in Maths - hells yes. Yes my education is fucked up & my AS count now stands at 7, I don't know what's wrong with me.

How did your summer/results go?

BACK IN BRISTOL

Two cities conquered.
Love will be my grave.
I started writing again.
He always used to say I should.

I can't wait to catch up with you all.

95% GO UNREPORTED::6.5% RESULT IN PROSECUTION

POETRYTHURSDAY±10

The Life of Fiction
by Thomas Lynch

Everything must, of course, advance the cause
of atmosphere or character or narrative:
the walk up the coast road, the sudden rain,
the stone shed at the sea's edge to shelter in,
the two of them waiting out the weather,
pressed into the corner, alone at last.
This is an old movie. It's Hollywood.
Each gets to tell the other everything –
old dreams and longings, slow regrets, how things
happen as they are supposed to happen,
or so they will console each other.
Of course, the usual embraces. They smile and weep.
They touch each others' faces wordlessly
then step out into the eventual sun,
each knowing what the other wanted known.
Or here's another possibility:
It doesn't rain. Or when it does,
a helpful pilgrim happens by and shouts,
"Hop in, you'll be perished, I'll get you home!"
And they get back safely, dry and comforted,
grateful for their dispensations. Life goes on.
The sea and the weather keep coming and going.

Good luck to everyone getting results today!

ASHORTINTRODUCTIONTOMYOBSESSIONWITHSHORTS

source

SUMMERSUMMERSUMMERO'CLOCK

source 1//source 2//source 3

POETRYTHURSDAY±9

Coloured

by an African child

When I born, I black.
When I grow up ,i black.
When I go in Sun, I black.
When I scared, I black.
When I sick, I black.
And when I die, Im still black.

And u white fella,
when u born, u pink.
When u grow up, u white.
When u go in sun, u red.
When u cold, u blue.
When u scared, u yellow.
When sick, u green.
And when u die, u gray……

And u calling ME coloured???