mum

locked
Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

wants to know if i'm seeing somebody. i tell her that due to circumstances outside my control, i have had to close the door, put twenty locks on, and dump the keys in the thames. now, all i need is a good locksmith. directory enquiries, anyone?

made me laugh

me mira con cara de perro degollado
estoy como títere sin cabeza
sapo de otro pozo
anda a cantarle a gardel

en gringo

every day it's getting closer

looming like the iceberg that sunk the titanic, only i can see it from miles and miles away.

what i learned one year on

you can edit your blog, but you can't edit real life

see: technology creep

sunday

cloudday
rainday
i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it, i can't do it any more.

experiment

in about 2 hours it will be the first time in two months that i have spent a full 24 hours without coffee, cigarettes or alcohol. i wonder what it will feel like when i wake up next morning. good night!

polaroids from a scavenger hunt (undocumented)

old billingsgate market
a girl and two boys sitting on a bench by old father thames, all glammed up / partied out at 5pm, drinking champagne, smoking a joint, sparkling in the clouds.

idol lane
an incredibly hot black girl, dressed in not very much, oiling her long legs in the deserted graveyard. an assistant comes just before you make the wrong assumption. a man on a mobile winks at you as he walks off stage left.

rotherhite station
three girls riding at the limit of the definition of good taste.

heyford avenue
a doorway spiderweb hiding explosions of laughter in the orange glow within.

see: scavenger hunt (documented)

miss simpatía

genious
goddess
gorgeous creature
tart

workaholic

hard at work paving the road to self-destruction

dull day

i woke up at 3am today, laughing at myself so hard my ribs nearly broke, but i must say it's been downhill since then. working from home it's not all it's cracked up to be. filling in forms doesn't provide a huge amount of thrills. twirling your hair as you read your email is not the most fun to be had in a room. and not even an interesting spam reading to get me through...

leave now and close the door behind you

this morning the last of the ducks quacked their way away from this godforsaken country. autumn is here.

not wild horses

and on the night itself, as anticipated, there were no horses crashing into the venue to pick up the princess and take her away...

tunng

they made the floor vibrate under our feet. they made our hearts beat in time. they made us smile and clap our hands. but they didn't get those f**king italians to shut the f**k up. still, we bought the CD.

tunng

superthriller

and when the elevator opened, of course, who should be there but the general himself, welcoming us into the show. and so i did what was best, which was to grab hold of a bottle of wine and dance like a lunatic until the end of the night. superthriller indeed.

life is like a pinball machine, no matter which way i bounce, no matter how crazy the patterns seem, i'm still stuck in this very very small glass cage. but it's fun!

confession II

ok, so i did remember, after picking up the dulce de leche from the supermarket shelf, that one of my dinner guests doesn't eat diary products, and i nearly did put it back on the shelf, nearly. but then i thought, nah...the american yanqui may want to try it. really, i did. which is why i can't exactly explain why there is a half-finished packet of crackers and a decimated dulce de leche jar on my lap right now.

spam reading

last night, i got the following SMS spam:

Don't Miss Use What You Got B/C You May Not Really Get To Ha

(to what? to what? tell me! Get To what?) and so not wishing to tempt my luck by disobeying the orders of the great spam-sender-in-the-sky i interpreted and reinterpreted and figured the best thing to do under the circumstances was to go out with a bunch of rioplatense nutters and dance and drink -- in my hopefully soon-to-be new 'hood -- until my body ached almost as much as my hea

confession

sometimes, when i'm on my own, i will say "fuck you" out loud, to no-one in particular.

all the world's a stage

once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a bubble. in the bubble there was a castle and some hills and probably a few rivers, although i can't remember at this present time. there may also have been a man on horseback in the distance, but if there was, he was always galloping away.

the girl often sat on the top branch of a tree, in the middle of her garden, talking to her invisible friend. her invisible friend happened to be a star. she knew how to find this star every night because it would always follow the moon. the girl was a little afraid of the moon, all too aware of the powerful influence it would have on her later on, so the fact that the star was always keeping an eye on the moon was very reassuring. this is probably why instead of inventing any old invisible friend, the girl chose to speak to the star instead. this, and some confusion as to the whereabouts of her grandparents.

in any case. this star knew all the girl's secrets, and never spoke back. this may explain subsequent unspoken conversations, but maybe not.

the girl would often run away from home at midnight, climb up on the tree and spend hours chatting to the star and smoking cigarettes. which is probably why the girl will always be addicted to cigarettes, as they are very closely linked to the fantasy world which she created at the time.

ramble, ramble. the point is that there is a girl, and a tree, and a star and lots of cigarettes. and that's what there will always be, even if, from time to time, there are additional cast members.

blimey

ok, so you think, this is the way it's going to be. i'll say this and they'll say that, and we'll speak over each other, agreeing. this is the way it's going to be. they'll say this and i'll say that, and we'll be quiet together hearing each other breathing over the line. and breathe in. and it'll be fine as ever. a fine lovely mess. breathe out. smile. tell a joke.

english breakfast

half-baked beans, runny eggs, burnt bacon, rubbery mushrooms, soggy toast.

resuming normal service

flat hunting is the most incredible way to see the city. you get to see how people live, you get to see london from different angles, you get to daydream about all the new ways in which your life can unfold in your possible new home. at the same time, it's the most frustrating way to see the city. you get to wander around getting lost in obscure estates, see the horrible places that some people try to flog you, the smells of a city you don't really live in and you never really will know. it's going to be an interesting journey. and one day i'll walk into a place and it will be home. the one i'll have been looking for forever.

family

the thing is family is now whatever you make of it, and so you have brothers and sisters and cousins and second-cousins-once-removed absolutely everywhere. and that's a good thing, but it comes not without its challenges.

otra vez de nuevo

en el omnibus 116 con el rubio, el milico y el punk. con 15 años y pocas ganas de darme por enterada. las viejas chasqueando la lengua. este mundo se esta yendo al demonio....

en gringo

wicked

dark lady. high heels. red mouth.

spam reading

stage. road.

dizzy spell

the room cartwheels around me and the meeting comes to a halt while people source chair, water, chocolate. head down, breathe.

mystery

i think in many languages but all the words are the same. they all spell out your name.

beautiful girl

i sit next to her and our knees are touching and i think: you are beautiful and i know it and i'll let you know just how beautiful you are. one day.

knitting

the thing about knots is that when you try to unravel them they just get tighter and tighter

6566400 seconds to go

109440 minutes
1824 hours
76 days

beep!

pining, panicking, picnic

chain smoking at 9.30 in the morning. four coffees by 1pm. sandwich stuck between heart and stomach. heart jumping. boing, boing, boing. back at work. back at work. reality. rain. check.

il n'y a pas des problèmes

my uruguayan friend walks with me down the river at dusk. lovely river. electric sitar. multitudes of cultures. open spaces. we come home, we have some wine, some talk, some more wine and more talk. my lovely neighbourhood friend comes round with a long haired man and lots of fun. and more wine and more talk and add some music and candles and ghostly autumnal skies. breakfast, more walks, london from the 17th floor, market, supermarket. talk and plans. off to wimbledon to see mad rabbit woman. sausages and mash. surly girl, grinning boy. sneaky fags. bus ride with barbarossa and sufjan and lady sovereign and low and more.

a while ago my friend who's in love told me that in french-speaking africa people will explain to you this simple equation: if there is a problem you have a solution to, why then there is no problem, you'll sort it out in time. and if there is a problem that has no solution, well then it's not a problem, it's just a fact of life.

life is good. il n'y a pas des problèmes.

spam reading

imbalance

just what the doctor ordered

home

home home home home home home!

lost in a book in washington sq park

in and out of new york not new york, thinking of you and not you, watching leaves swirling down in slow motion in an autumn that's not quite an autumn, feeling like me and not like me at all, here and not here, now, yesterday, tomorrow.

identity

my accent is amplified a million times against the nyc/latino twang. people ask, are you european? oh yes, yes i am. european, british, the queen.

as you do

sitting in a corner, eating a hot pepperoni pizza, watching the world go by, the question is begged: what do times sq, leicester sq and hell have in common?

but i did see them

Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

the black squirrel welcoming committee at inwood hill park got a serious case of stage fright and scooted off as soon as the cameras were out, leaving the welcome speech to the trees and the wind and the sparrows

against the tide

Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

a neat marching line of runners followed me around central park in reverse

bounce

now i know what it feels like to be a political football!

interview

tell me all about you and i'll tell you all about me and i don't really want to know any of this cos all i want is to go play outside. minor crisis of confidence. you're just a child why would you want to take on all that...

on the 34th floor of the empire state building

from the now tallest building in the city you can see giants sat here and there like pieces of a domino game that a crazy child started and now don't breathe cos it may all collapse in front of your wide open eyes.

greetings

four hours in, and I have:

• eaten a hotdog
• had three big black cwoffees
• gotten a haircut
• worked out the grid system
• checked out the shoe shops
• found myself a cute sushi place

new york city is right in my pocket.

farewell

london has given me as parting gifts: an amazing gig, a magically clear sky punctuated by a perfect, almost-full moon, messages from people that love me and whom i love.

perhaps i should leave more often. perhaps i shouldn't leave at all....

still

turquoise
Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

insects in the pond make up their own raindrop display while london speaks to me in its soft whisper of traffic, helicopters and human activity. in the distance, builders communicate with each other across the town in the ancient language of knock-knock - knock-knock-knock - knock - knock

dreaming of planes

planes wake me up every morning. planes don't let me sleep every night. planes i dream of jumping on or jumping off, depending of the direction of travel. wouldn't it be nice. to have a personal taxi service delivering you by plane to your bed every night. back from far away places, head full of colours and songs and exotic languages. dreaming in reverse. waking life fantastic and then sleep normality back on.

stuck on cloud nine without a rope

hoping the hunters will not shoot you down, duckie.

anxiety

raining exclamation marks hitting you over the head make you wonder what on earth was the world doing before now. what on earth. whatever was going on on this beautiful round pile of lava and oceans and mountains?

speed. again.

today i could just watch the clouds slowly travelling across my office window and daydream my life away. all day. and i might just do that.

spam reading

oh, you are not able to control your feeling!