Having read over my blog posts from beginning to end, I can come to only one conclusion, I am completely full of shit. Sorry about that.

In the Dark

The world is sometimes a very big, scary place. I’ve thought this before, mostly in those times where nothing, no matter how well planned or timed, seems to go right, but that is the kind of fear is different, the controlled kind of panic you feel before a big, unstudied-for exam, or a sudden firing. This kind of fear is entirely different.

The streets are empty at this time of night, and the trees sway and seem to talk and in some kind of Narnia-esque nightmare, they bend over me, running their fingers through my hair and grasping at my clothes. The dimly lit road stretches away before me, and the cold permeates my clothes, my skin, my very breath as it rises away from me in clouds of steam. Back there, in the light and the noise I had felt so brave. No, I had said, I’ll just get a cab, you stay there, I’ll see you tomorrow. I didn’t feel brave now. A little way out of town a taxi had stopped beside me, but I waved him on. The night had been too beautiful for meaningless chitchat with a bored shift worker and my shoeless feet had led me down along the highways, listening to the cars whine, with only the occasional shout or whistle from a carful of passing strangers. High heels dangling from my hand I had felt light as air and beautiful, like the night, not caring as the asphalt cut my feet to leave them smudging blood along the pavement.

I never knew before that wind could truly whisper. It whispered now in my ears, nasty secrets in the cold murmurs of a man who sneaks up behind you in the dark. And here I am, indeed, in the dark and alone, but for the feeling hands of the branches. It is too much, I think, and run.

reality hits hard

its late at night and here i am again, a good 2 years after i last came here for some kind of comfort or absolution.

a few days ago i found a recording i'd made of a tape my parents had made for me as a baby of my astrological charts. i remember finding the tape at 15 and listening to it thinking that if i was something even close to the person it talked about i'd be alright.

for a bunch of reasons tonight, and every other, i am not alright.

and all i really have to say here is this. i am a writer, writer of fictions, i am the heart that you call home



and i've written pages upon pages

trying to rid you from my bones

on the subject of wholeness, or, i have 14 contact hrs per wk

arthur took my shoes from from the chair and with the carving knife shredded the canvas into uneven strips. he didnt look at me, or seem aware that i was still there, still existant. with every tear his knuckles were white with effort. when he wasfinished he took the other shoe and with one sharp jerk caught it clean in half. the steel on rubber on wood shook me, and never left the room.
"which is more whole, lucy?"
i stared at the dying shoes, but neither spoke.
"one is shredded, but has all its parts intact. the other loses half of its material but thehalf that remains is undamaged. which is whole? which is more whole?

hello again.

i just visited my blog after a week or so to find i seem to have created a bit of a furore. its all rather exciting really, isnt it.

i think what i liked most was how personally some of you took a post that was a rant at the world at large. it was pretty typical really. some ignored. some philosophised. some took umbridge and offence. some used it as an excuse to bag me and jeffries used it to bring up his deep disgust with me and issues which i'm not concerned about and dont really want to hear.
so i came away from it thinking pretty much as i did before.

the one thing i am a little worried about is how many of you took this to be a personal attack. there are a few of you who really wouldnt be concerned if i fell off the planet tomorrow, and hell why not? all i'm saying is, dont have the arrogance to beleive i'm going to write about people in my blog who really dont figure in my life at all.

i dont usually feel up for a big bitter winge at you all, but i really do tonight after many many hours of work and it feels right to get this said.

my thoughts are valid.
if you feel like judging me for my morals, my actions, because you dont like things ive done, havent done, or the colour of my hair, go for it.sure i'd prefer you did it privately, but you cant always get what you want, so sure, go for it. just dont expect me to care.

in just a few short weeks i will be out this narrow fetid circle, and you will be free of my presence. there is nothing i am looking forward to more. to those of you i love, you mean the world to me, and i will miss you like something has been cut out of me. i'd say my heart but... well i'll let you finish that one.

i truly beleive that in life it is the little things that matter. its the little things in my life that bring richness, and life and create moments we can remember for the rest of our lives. i truly beleive that each person lives for him or herself, and that life should not be dictated by others. i truly beleive that social conditioning in the present society is unhealthy, that the society itself lacks openess and the ability to allow individuals to act on their own conviction. i truly beleive we live in a modern utopia of binding judgements and false gods.

i also believe that in life you can only make yourself happy, and thats all that matters. if you choose to make yourself happy there is nothing in the world that can stop you. i choose to be happy.

you choose your path, i choose mine. just dont think you have the right to tell me what path i should consider right.

its specific tonight. get bent.

the litte things that matter

in my life it is the little things that matter. i have no respect for big things, big things are dangerous. big things steal something from you, that you can never regain, that you will most likely never miss, or if you do you will write it off as the fallout of growing up. its not innocence of which i speak, its that indefinable sense of wonder in the world, lost as things become commonplace. when the big and important comes up, the little things seem less valid somehow. its all overtaken in guilt, or remorse, or joy, or those emotionswe feel we cant escape from.

dear reader, if in fact you exist, can you join me in the appreciation of the wonder that was? i think not. not unless you too are like me, trapped in an inner cannister of glass from which i look out and fake emotions. im a good faker, better even than that guy who pretended to be stanley kubrick. it is this which only the damaged, like me, can appreciate. or even want to understand. this may seem somewhat self indulgent, or self pitying, or just generally wallowing, but i dont care. you can all take your opinions and get f***ed. those of you who get what im talking about, its you im talking to, noone else. the rest of you can get bent

mine

i wanted to be so sure. i wanted to be so certain and so right. bu i fell as lucifer fell, i tumbled to earth, a a grinning, burning body. the charm faded, and left the skull.

i want to blame you all. you ruined me, you blighted me, you expected and refused and ditched me. you left me bruised you confused you disorriented.

i want perspective on my life. i want to watch it in a movie, where the dramatic irony hurts but instructs. i want to watch me on a screen and say 'that girl is in trouble'. above all i dont want to be the girl left screaming 'how could i be so stupid, why me?'

i love to hurt, but i hate to feel hurt. i love to cry, but i hate to feel that i have to.

i would love to leave, and leave i will, but i will hate myself for doing it.

dont comment on this one, please dont, i have my own thoughts here, i dont need yours