harrow and wealdstone II

what's a harrow? what's a weald stone?



curiosity satisfied

regressive

today at the supermarket a man kept following me around...heli, don't touch that, heli, stop running, heli, leave those sweets alone, heli, come here, heli, be a good girl...took me a long time to realise he wasn't the voice of my conscience made flesh, but the father of a little ellie who was very naughty indeed...

speed of travel. revised.

a little girl playing in her brother's bedroom spins and spins and spins and spins. her new skirt floating around her. giggles spilling out in all directions. spins and spins and bang. table edge. chin. blood. hospital. stitches. new skirt now with reddish pattern. scar still there. slow down, baby.

harrow and wealdstone

isabella and harry or alistair and lucia or harry and lucia or alistair and harry or lucia and isabella or...twin-a and twin-b jostle for comfortable positions. all elbows and legs and tiny bums. like a magical experiment in contortionism happening behind the smooth curtain of your friend's beautiful tummy. beautiful. beautiful. twice.

vain

sometimes you get the sneaky suspicion that even round emails are specifically designed to speak to...you!

ouch

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5 ways in which to render a human being completely incapable of work

• give them so many work tasks that all they can do is waste their time wondering what to do first
• offer them stupid amounts of money for their flat at very short notice, therefore making them spend extraordinary amounts of time thinking about what happens next
• send them on a lovely holiday in only a week's time, resulting in more time spent wondering what to do, what to wear, what to see
• make them organize a party this weekend, even more time will go into looking forward to hanging out with friends
• tickle them
  

comfortable travelling speed

everything fast, everything now, everything at once, everything. all the time.

oh hell

daddy-long-legs has once again made its way into my house. only the second one this summer. but this time i know they're lethal. i'm going to go hatch a plan. if i don't blog again in the next 24 hours, it's been a pleasure to be read by you. farewell.

well there you go (irresistible)

a "Schrödinger's Date" is a meeting between two people that may or may not be a date, and whose status cannot be determined. only the odds of it being one or the other can be estimated.
from wikipedia

smooth

smooth
smooth
smooth
smooth
smooth

a good spot

the most beautiful girl in the city sits in my stoop in the morning. fag in hand. clean knickers on. low in the background. sun in our faces. adventures ahead of us. life beautifully gentle. the stoop is, today, the most perfect stoop.

battle of hastings

pondering the meaning of it all, the nature of identity, the pain of distance, the truth of performance. queen, bride, beautiful woman.

i will tell you all about it

the mad rabbit mother and the chief officer inadvertently feed me noodles for the third time in a week. but better. and then they let me babble on and on about my nonsense. and i love them both very much.

sneaky

one day, the girl bought a whole lot of chocolate bars. and she put them somewhere safe. and later she ate them all. and then the sun came out.

another short story

once there was a boy who looked down an abyss from the edge of a precipice on the top of a vulcano. and he decided not to fall down.

red heads are taking over the world

red heads. fiery red. coppery red. autumnal red. carroty red. tomato red. purpley red. red.

minas

a girl scrunched up into a ball hiding in the towel shelf in the hotel bathroom. shower running to hide her tears. she cries because she knows her lover doesn't want her anymore. he doesn't know this. he brings her down gently, uncomprehending. and then she forgets she knows what he doesn't know.

general custer's one night stand

the native american had the upper hand. general custer was surrounded and had no more weapons. his powers were spent. his crew disappeared. his culture disabled him. the native american surrounded him and he was got. but there are reports that he enjoyed it after all.

rainy night

a bolt of lightning fell right on my bed and my heart lost its rhythm. sitting up, out of breath, i listen to the sounds in the darkness. tip-tap, rain, beat, tip-tap, thunder, beat, tip-tap, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat...

5 things that cheered me up today

• wrapping up a present in the morning
• thinking "i'm off to a festival!" every 5 minutes
• shep: "you're worth getting out of bed for"
• confirming flights to new york, new york
• sparking an explosion of hollering and engine revving as i walked past a mini-traffic-jam of white vans on my way home

burglary

they came past security, into the door, through the window, up the drainpipe, into the flat. cat-fucking-burglars. don't worry honey, you've still got all the things that make you you.

spam reading

to overhear bombard with a navy, aware of the tide of course.

scotch beef

tv says it's better than english. i'm not so sure. but ultimately it's not an issue, because obviously uruguayan's best.

nazareno navarro, maltese anguila bandido

Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

nazareno navarro walks up and down, checking the lines on the thames, waiting for eel.

if he finds a little time to talk to you, he'll tell you about guido, roberto, giovanni, luigi, veronica, arabella... there used to be 17 of them, but now there's only 9. all the girls went. probably married, i think. "married women have a lower life expectancy than married men" (why does this fact pop into my head?) veronica, he'll explain, comes from "vera unica" this means "really a one", truly unique. arabella is from the arameic, "behold the beautiful one". i make a wish for a girl i can call arabella.

if you stick around long enough he'll show you how to check the lines. tugs in rhythmic succession means an eel, anything else is probably seaweed. riverweed? londonweed? i wait and wait but the eels are not stupid. they know all i'm after is a picture, they won't die for such a cause.

nazareno's mate is more of a carp man. carp he explains are more intelligent creatures. they live for longer through the generations, so they have time to pass on knowledge to the young.

"beware of those lines," they say to the young carp, "there are men out there, patient men, waiting to catch you if you're not awake."

i should know.

observation

kissing with the whole of your body is just more fun.

surprising

the daddy-long-legs is the most poisonous creature to humans in the whole of the british isles. daddy-long-legs, however, don't have a long enough tongue to get their poison into the deeper layer of our skin. so we get away with it, by a hair's breadth.

in love with being in love

it's all about the journey. as we concluded over a lovely meal at the polish club.

mythologies

this is how it was. i told the story many times. it was like this. and then that happened. leading to the well known conclusion. but afterwards it became like so. this is what i thought at the time. and those were the things we said. in that place over there. but they never really understood any of it. i was a hero. we were insane. it was all incredibly complicated. but it happened. and it all started once again. remember?

SMS Post

344 bus, am. so this is where all the cute boys where hiding...

still

your head on my stomach. just resting there. listening to the beat of my heart through my veins.

that night i believed in ghost stories

the summer had gone past full of mysteries and riddles. there was much gazing at the moon and telling stories round the fires at the beach. owls would provide the soundtrack to our scares. the waves rolling up towards us with the tide, framing the crescendo of our fears. i walked up to the garden gate and called out to my friend up ahead of me. he turned round and waved, but didn't come. instead, he tapped me on the shoulder from behind and gave me the biggest fright of my life. turns out his grandad -- also long-haired, also tall, also handsome -- had died in the house. he hung out by the gate, in the evening, to watch his grandson's pretty girls go by.

unreasonable behaviour

irrational
thoughtless
selfish
destructive
tempting

domestic bliss

waking up at 7am and cooking a fry-up naked from the waist down.

why i like arm-wrestling

as soon as the bell goes off, all the girls rush out to the playground. in the playground they get up to the usual things that girls get up to. girls skip. girls sing. girls gossip. girls dare each other to talk to the boys. girls eat sweets. girls are girls during break-time.

i don't go out with the girls. i stay in the classroom. i don't skip, i don't sing, i don't gossip. i sit at the teacher's desk. the boys pile around. one by one they come and arm-wrestle with me. i beat them all. even the one i know i shouldn't beat. then we slap each other on the back. i'm one of them.

this only lasts a few years. then the wrestling goes all metaphorical on me.

voltage

in summer nights long ago, after a long hard night of clubbing, i would walk the 2 or 3 kilometers back from atlantida to la floresta. magical places, full of ghosts.

every time, around 5am, still dark and freezing cold, the residual energy from all the dancing would spark off my shimmering skin, making all the street lights pop off as i walked past.

weird. spooky. surprising even to the owls, who would who-who their puzzled disapproval, and fly off to kill some mice.

communication

a man on a roof dances around the huge satellite dishes. in amongst the airwaves, which gently sway them this way and that.