Are you alive?

Now call me crazy...

...Actually don't.

But anyway - where are you people? Everyone's disappeared from my blog. Ok so I know it's a leetle bit shite just now - well always. But, but. You used to humour me!

Tell you what you tell me what you want to read, and I'll write it.

Well whadda you know?

This is crazy. Today my horrible 12-year-old sister gave me a book. You wanna know what it's called? "Life's Little Instruction Book"

Sure it's a little lame, it's not so great but my sister gave me a book with '511 suggestions, observations and reminders on how to live a happy and rewarding life'

I am in shock.

xxx


Of course she tried to sit on my head two hours later but mneh...

Kings Crossing

The King's crossing was the main attraction
Dominoes falling in a chain reaction
The scraping subject ruled by fear told me
Whiskey works better than beer
The judge is on vinyl, decisions aren't final
And nobody gets a reprieve
And every wave is tidal If you hang around you're going to get wet
I can't prepare for death any more than I already have
All you can do now is watch the shells
The game looks easy, that's why it sells

Frustrated fireworks inside your head
Are going to stand and deliver dark instead
The method acting that pays my bills
Keeps the fat man feeding in Beverly Hills
I got a heavy metal mouth, it hurls obscenity
And I get my check from the trash treasury Because I took my own insides out

It don't matter cause I have no sex life
And all I wanna do now is inject my ex-wife I've seen the movie
And I know what happens
It's Christmas time
And the needle's on the tree
A skinny Santa is bringing something to me
His voice is overwhelming
But his speech is slurred
And I only understand every other word

Open your parachute and grab your gun
Float down like an omen, a setting sun
Read the part and return at five
It's a hell of a role if you can keep it alive
But I don't care if I fuck up
I'm going on a date
With a rich white lady
Ain't life great?
Gi'me one good reason not to do it(Because I love you)
So do it.

This is the place where time reverses
And dead men talk to all the pretty nurses
Instruments shine on a silver tray
Don't let me get carried away
Don't let me get carried away
Don't let me be carried away


Elliott Smith
From A Basement On A Hill

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

Can't I study? I mean I'm doing anything and everything to avoid it - I've watched AWFUL movies, tidied the garage, washed my hair again, eaten chocolate, eaten disgusting microwave food and written a lot of rubbish in a notebook.

I am fucked.

An Ode To Poets

This was written by a guy on a site I visit, it made me giggle - and poets around it's really not meant to offend. As I say I thought it was funny and you know what I'm like with poetry...

Cliché after cliché
And rhyming to make it breezy
Writing poetry is easy
Especially like this about feelings, not cheesy.
Keeping on writing,
About how I’m fighting,
It’s narrative, derivative and delighting
All of you, because it’s “powerful”,“Lovely”,
“I can so relate”,“Myself too I do so hate”.
Life is so black,
life is so bleak,
Knives are fun and cool and sleek;
I’m feeling so bad, so I’ll write it down,
And on my head a poetry achievement will crown.
Because I write well,
About my personal hell,
And it’s so sad,
So mad,
So beautiful, so bad,
When I write poetry about feelings and shit.

So here comes the noose,
Tighter, it will not loose,
My feelings are so sad,
So sad, so sad,
I feel so bad,
So bad, so bad.
So won’t you relate,
To these overly familiar statements of hate,
These overly sentimentalised, cliché and third rate
Poems about feelings
And shit.

A Check-Up

Did I ever mention that I love you guys? All of you who visit here. I just wanted to make sure you knew. Take care of yourselves always.
xxx

A Rest

Do not stand at my blog and weep
I am still here;
I'm only asleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my blog and cry,
I am still here;
I did not die.

x

Self Discovery? Honesty?

Not my idea I assure you, but I thought I'd give it a crack - feel free to dispute or add your own...

I love the way that I...

like to help other people out
can make people smile
stick by what I believe no matter what
stay faithful
always keep secrets
am trustworthy
keep things neat and tidy
know how to wire a plug

I hate the way that I...

am always moaning about something
pester people constantly
am paranoid
treat myself sometimes
can be too needy
am rarely true to myself
get so easily influenced by others
let people do things I'm not happy with
have no strength when I need it
sat down to actually write this...

Postcard from the edge

GCSE Coursework coming up folks, a dramatic monologue. Well a boring drivel - but hey I can do pretentious...

* A girl, about 18, sits in the corner of a bright bedroom *

School was the same, the same as usual. I sat and people talked, occaisionally to me but when I don't reply the questions cease. They're fed up of me I know it, that's why I can't tell them - not all of them, not all of it. I wouldn't expect them to understand, they've not been through the same as me, I've seen enough to kill.

I do get up every morning though, I don't sleep. I was deprived of that basic need months ago, but I lie in bed for hours. They complain how tired they are, but they have nothing on my inpenetratable tiredness.

My grades are good enough, not as good as they used to be but still good - apparantly. I'm not sure how since I've the attention span of a three-year-old and I'm usually totally oblivious to what's going on around me, not that I'm complaining.

I write a lot, I write poetry and short stories and I keep a journal into which I write every thought, every bout of tears and every slip-up, of which there are many.
Saw a boy I used to know today, a boy who knew me. But he left long ago, not that I blame him - maybe he thought I liked having my heart stamped on, maybe he thought that was why people seem to do it to me so often.

* Fade to black *

* The girl sits with red eyes on a beach, it is midday and drizzling*

I went to see him today, just like he asked, just as I should have. I'm not sure why I booked the appointment, talking just seems to make me worse, not that I can get much worse.
He said I was angry, said how sad it was for a girl of my age to be so angry, well - that made me angry, being called angry. I'm not angry anyway, not as much as I am sad, anyway.

I didn't say much, I never do. It's easier to let him smile his pitying smile at me and tell me how I'm feeling. I told him about my poetry and he recited a quote, 'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance'. I feigned indifference but actually, I kinda liked it.

The appointment triggered me off of course, I knew it would, I did it again. Made a terrible mess all over my pink top, but I felt better afterwards. Not so lonely while it was in my hand, not so alone.

I have a headache, I think I'll take some asprin, washed down with something to make me sleep, for a while.

* Fade to black *

* The girl sits in the corner of a bare white room, dressed in a grey gown, pale-faced *

They found me. Lying there in that disgusting state. I didn't want to be found, I wrote poems for them all to read. I only wanted the headache to end, the pain to end, the end.

* The girl sits on a sunny beach surrounded by friends *

It ended, of course. They still don't know. Anything. But I do, I know an awful lot more than I thought I did.
I talk now, too.

Nikita

Hey Nikita is it cold
In your little corner of the world
You could roll around the globe
And never find a warmer soul to know
Oh I saw you by the wall
Ten of your tin soldiers in a row
With eyes that looked like ice on fire
The human heart a captive in the snow
Oh Nikita
You will never know anything about my home
I'll never know how good it feels to hold you
Nikita I need you so
Oh Nikita is the other side of any given line in time
Counting ten tin soldiers in a row
Oh no, Nikita you'll never know
Do you ever dream of me
Do you ever see the letters that I write
When you look up through the wire
Nikita do you count the stars at night
And if there comes a time
Guns and gates no longer hold you in
And if you're free to make a choice
Just look towards the west and find a friend


Ok so I don't like Elton John. I am not a pretty russian girl. But I am called Nikita...