so easy

All he has to do is draw my cartoon self; mock my accent; hunt down a single box of orange Tic Tacs; make a gift of a discarded, beat up old Chi-lites tape and I'm his. I've always wanted some adorable man to pay me this kind of random, kooky attention but now that one is, I can't help feeling that I'm way too easy, that I'm a house of cards in a hurricane.

Currently Listening Alas I Cannot Swim By Laura Marling see related

back in the saddle... again

Dang!

It's been time since I've been on Xanga. To be honest, I would've forgotten all about it if e_monkey hadn't sent a reminder. I'm signed up to facebook and MySpace, but I'm not comfortable writing about the more serious stuff that goes on in my life there. So here I go again (on my own - thanks White Snake!).

Let's see, what's happened since the last time I wrote an entry here... I've got a few new tattoos. I'm living with my mom's cousin (rent free! woo-hoo!). I had a massive emotional breakdown (Yeah, General Anxiety Disorder! Yeah, Cirpalex!) and ended up in Toronto for three months to sort myself out. I got dumped by text message two days before my 35 birthday (tosser). I realised that being a "spoken word artist" alone (i.e., mincing around, bigging myself up and talking shit with other pretentious twats) wasn't particularly fulfilling and decided that I'd train to become a secondary school teacher (heading back to Warwick to do a year long PGCE after which I'll be qualified to teach English and Drama). Applied for Indefinite Leave to Remain on this crazy island and am waiting (rather impatiently) to get my passport back so I can head off to Toronto for a three week visit in April. I'm liking the changes.

Of course, there are still more things about me that haven't changed. I still talk trash, spill my own secrets, stare at people on buses, get into arguments with assholes who talk shit, scare men away, alienate girlie girls, drop pop cultural references like what and develop crazy crushes on boys who will never love me the way I think I want to be loved. As they say in Jamaica, so it go.

Currently Listening Hounds of Love By Kate Bush see related

- Cloudbursting

I have a plan for world domination.

I have a partner in crime

I have a place to live (we move on 15 November).

Oh life is too too good.

Currently Listening Martha Wainwright By Martha Wainwright see related

- bloody mother fucking asshole

Yesterday I tossed a trunk full of emotional baggage into the ocean. Heaved it over the rail and watched it sink into the grey blue wet. Buh-bye. I saw G-Rock Wednesday afternoon in London town and we had a great talk about art and careers and our lives. And I realized that I don't want to be weighed down with all of P-Body's distress and sadness and moaniness. I'm happy and light and don't want to sit around constantly picking him up and dusting him off. He needs to learn how to do that on his own. Or not. But I'm bored with being the sunshine in his life. Yeah, yeah, he appreciates me, I know this - I just can't spend anymore time watching him be miserable over some fucking beeyatch who treats him horribly. He could have a really amazing life if he just let himself. Maybe this will change, you never know with me, but I can't imagine myself being with him - not the him he is now anyway (if you get what I mean). Besides! He doesn't even like dogs! I couldn't love a man who didn't like dogs!

Yesterday was our last show and I felt pretty emotional about it - it was the last time I'd hear everyone doing their poems and it was the last time we'd all be together in a room for some time. A great line up of my friends came to watch, which was so amazing - I'm only sorry that I didn't get to spend more time with each of them. To their credit, they were very understanding about my need to chat with everyone. It was so good to see Yogi again, I haven't seen him in ages and I missed him loads.We stayed at the mac bar until Jeet and Simon kicked us out, then headed over to Broad Street (yuck), 'cause that's where everyone was staying. Yogi came out with us and had already made this plan that he was staying over at my place afterwards, on the premise that I'd want the company home in the taxi later on. Right, okay. I'd planned on taking everyone to Zinc but wouldn't ya know it, it was closed for a private party. We found ourselves at Impanema in the end because there was no place else we could go with trainers on. Fucking fascists! It was salsa night, which initially I thought was a little ridiculous, but after awhile I really started to get into the music. We didn't stay that long, just long enough to have a drink each, then we headed over to Big Bite and ate waaaay too much food. After saying good-bye to everyone Yogi and I jumped in a taxi and went back to mine. He just followed me right up to my room and started getting undressed. I was like, "Uh, would you be more comfortable on the couch, or do you want to sleep here?" He said, "Are you cool with me sleeping here?" And I guess I was. I mean, we'd shared a bed before - he'd stayed in my room at the Travelodge when he came to see our show in Leicester. Like proper girls we stayed up for an hour and a half talking. It was cool I guess. When we got up this morning we decided to go and see the new Jim Jarmusch film and then we ended up just hanging out all day. Sometimes it's really hard being around him. Okay, most of the time it's hard being around him. Despite all my compartmentalizing he's awesome and I love him and he loves his pregnant girlfriend. I'll miss him, but God I can't WAIT until he moves to London in December. FUCK.

Currently Reading You're Not Singing Anymore By Niall O'Sullivan see related

Why am I awake? I should be sleeping. I'm beat. Unfortunately my brain continues to work overtime. Spent four days in the South West last week and it was AMAZING. The only downside was the 8 hour train ride home yesterday. Yikes. 8 HOURS! I could've gone back to Toronto in that time. Oh well, can't complain because Cornwall (and Devon) is magic. No really, it is. I've been having major IBS (irritable bowel syndrome for all of you who don't know what the hell I'm talking about) flare ups recently, but Friday afternoon when I stepped off the train from Exeter, I breathed in that salt air and shed 50 pounds of emotional baggage. Oh man. Penzance reminded me of Newfoundland and the west end of Negril (Jamaica) simultaneously, which made it two times home. We didn't have a show Friday, so we were free to caper about, which was AWESOME. Niall and I went to the beach across the street from The Slodge (the Guest Lodge, which was more slodge than lodge if you ken my meaning) and threw rocks into the sea. Niall was rubbish. Seriously, he had the worst throw I've EVER seen. We threw stones 'til our arms hurt. Saturday morning after breakfast found me at the beach again, listening to Emiliana Torrini and feeling dreamy. Niall showed up and we played with this funny little black dog who wanted us to throw stones for her to catch (not such a great idea really - rocks take weird bounces and bean cute little black dogs in their heads). Owen came and joined us and we continued our attempts to fill the Atlantic with stones. I found two perfect worry stones, one of which I'm going to give to Patrick (he has way more worry than I do). None of us wanted to leave Penzance for Truro, but we had no choice - that evening we were doing a show in Probus. Yes, Probus. We could not stop making jokes about the name of the town - I almost peed my pants when we got to the hotel in Truro and had the receptionist order us a taxi. When asked, he told the person on the other end that  "they are going to Probus". Sheer comedy, which only got worse after Gerry, our Apples&Snakes captain, told us that Probus was close to a town called Cocks - buah ha ha ha ha. Kill me, please. Sunday afternoon found us back in Penzance, which was a great relief. We went to an open mic at the Acorn Theatre (part of the wonderful "Tip of Your Tongue" festival weekend which we were the finale for) and acquited ourselves really well. I was SO tired though that I almost fell asleep at the lunch table. [I know there should be some paragraphs in here somewhere but I can't be bothered, okay?] We were staying at the Penzance Arts Club and my room was beautiful and cozy - it was all white with a tiny bit of blue for contrast. I could see the sea from my window. 

I want to marry a Cornish fisherman and live in that summer country forever, singing Cornish songs and mending nets until my fingertips are tough. 

The show we did Sunday night at the Acorn was the best show I've done this whole tour. The audience was lovely, as were the funny and excellent hostesses/organizers Anna Murphy, Emma Gibson and Sally Crabtree - salud to you ladies! I was speaking with two young women and a man from the audience after the show, telling them how much I was in love with Penzance. We finished talking, they left the theatre, and then one of the women came back with a small, round, smooth white stone in her hand. She said she'd found it on the beach that morning (I can't remember which one) and wanted me to have it. It was the fucking loveliest gesture and made me all teary. What a great night.

And now I'm back in Brum, worried about being approved for our new flat and despairing over the recent riots in Lozells/Handsworth. What the FUCK is going on? Asians and Blacks fighting each other? Killing each other? I repeat, what the FUCK is going on?