Today; what a day. The last few weeks have blurred into one insignificant haze of college, work and coursework. Exceptional, are the weekends, which are an oasis of sitting in our corner of the pub and drinking and talking. Just doing what we do.
I am the baby. Everyone's baby.
Fresh eighteen and not sure what to do with myself except down as many pints as I can convince other's to buy me every evening there's nothing to get up for the next morning, except plan the next night out and relish just how much it means to be there, together, and not have to worry.
Almost finished Dennis Cooper's novel 'Try' and almost, probably already did, spoil the ending by half dropping the book and it flicking to the last page by mistake. The last line is the most important part of the whole book, along with the opening one, and I saw it. Six pages to go and it's all over, almost. It's taken me forever to get through, not something I usually struggle with when it comes to good books, but I honestly haven't had the time beyond that which results in falling asleep over the pages.
Today: College, a visit to the bookshop and half an hour in the children's section feeling nostalgic about Hairy McClairy and The Hungry Caterpillar, stylish wrapping with pink ribbon, visit to see Baby Ellie & drop off the books I have my fingers crossed she'll have read to her when she's a bit bigger, college, work, MSN, marmite munch, MSN, and once this scrawl is over, passed out between the sheets smelling of Romance but not getting any.
In a world of my own making, entirely. Most of my lessons were spent day dreaming; there was a moment on Saturday that seemed infinite and I couldn't get it out of my head. Ten seconds? That's how long I was sure for. A good few minutes we drifted in possibility, but those ten seconds have been giving me spaced out headaches all day.
More importantly, perhaps, this month's i-D looks good; Frank Carter (Gallows) and some other really exquisite shots in the preview on their MySpace. Aren't I the lucky one having a 12 month subscription? My voyeristic tendancies are questionable. I get way too involved with thought processes that are intended for the page and nothing more, yet I build them up into something they are not and it drives me crazy that however hard I try they remain what they were made to be; 2D beauty. Jimmy and I were discussing this a few days ago, how we both fall for making more out of something than what it is. Character wise, we both tend to become over involved. I don't know about Jim, but I can only explain it this way, which is also my excuse for being so anti-social:
To withdraw yourself from a person allows you to imagine them in perfection, you may know them but never know them. Chances are that when a person is at arms length what you feel for them is doubled, tripled, and imagination runs away with itself. To then delve into their 'reality' and learn that they are flesh and blood like the rest of us, crumbles the facade. So to keep that image of the person you want them to be and not who they might really be, the arm stays outstretched and it is left to an over active imagination to fill in the gaps. If they were here, they would be immense and intense, but they are not so there is never a chance for them to not be those things.
All very well, it's worked a treat for me since I discovered the hard way that nobody can ever really know anyone, but living in a semi-real existence leaves you tired and with too much unspent affection and emotion to handle sensibly. The answer therefore: to become over involved with the words and pictures and portrayals that make up something that could be someone all that, love, could be unleashed upon. It happens too much to make sense, other than this confused explanation. My head is more of a mess than previously estimated.
The prospect of another night too short to sleep away how weary I feel is calling me to cut this short and get some shut eye. Slowdive and Air will sing me to somewhere my brain can switch off for a while.
When I was much younger, life after death made me angry because I didn't want to exist forever, I wanted to reach a point where I could simply, rest.
I don't know how I feel about that now.
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