the stoop

this stoop has seen
kisses in the night
drunken laughter
heavy gardening
friendly embraces
lonely tears
lunch and dinner
growing pains
a million cigarettes
moonlit conversations
crazy dancing
screaming rows
cooking bonanzas
leisurely manicures
sunbathing marathons
silent hugs
imaginative planning
an excited entrance
many many stays
and a final, painful, incredibly heartwrenching goodbye

goodbye palm tree, goodbye gooseberry, red currant, thorny bush, japanese tree, rosemary from ravensbourne, crocuses planted anyoldhow, roses from sainsbury's, hydrangea, and that plant that never quite survived but is still there hidden away behind the lovely bay tree. goodbye vauxhall. goodbye heyford avenue. goodbye.

and the trickiest dilemma of them all is...

where do i keep my cufflinkshandcuffs?

guilty pleasures, last time

bath
coffee
not one, but two portuguese custard tarts
oh yes

spam reading

room by. emotional.

questions

do they need to be answered? maybe. maybe. maybe. maybe. in the meantime, more packing, more wine, more fags, more life.

saturation point

once all the boxes are filled there is nowhere else for stuff to go so it comes out of me, sweat blood and tears.

optical illusions

while one eye sees the ever expanding bits and pieces coming out of their hiding holes, the other eye sees the stuff contracting into boxes, neatly tucked in a corner, reducing 8 years of inhabitance to a 2x2x2 chunk of space.

yeah, right, you fuckers!

ok, so maybe having "cash in the attic" on, as i trawl through the mountains of junk that have accumulated totally unbeknownst to me in parts of the flat i didn't even know existed, is not such a good idea.

i've run out of coffee

call the emergency services!!!

dilemma

my friend wishes me a man who will 'know you're fabulous and will truly indulge in you'
with friends like this, though, who needs a man?

folding

the last time i packed all my stuff. ALL my stuff. my stuff was contained within a single room in my parents' house. the trickiest decisions concerned which shoes to take, what tops to leave, whether i would miss the guns'n'roses poster or the soft toys. my little sister came into the room as i was packing my suitcase, which once again i am packing now, and showed me how to fold my clothes so i could pack more in. she's always been more suited to clothes and travelling, that one. one day, she'll come.

steve

he stops for me in his black cab. reading my mind. i'm not going to walk all the way from tower bridge to vauxhall, no sir, not in my heels. and he says as i get on, don't matter if you only have ten pounds but when we get there i'll ask you a question and i say that's ok and so we ride and we say the usual things. i'm from uruguay. the knowledge. london dangerous. suburban living. and when we get home i'm one pound short and he says well i wanted to show you my watercolours and he shows me in his digital camera and then he says i want to paint you, would you like to model. and i say. i'll be honest with you, i've modelled before and would love to, but i don't do nudes and he says that's great cos i don't paint nudes and then we chat about my sabbatical and logistics. and if i want a cab all i have to do is call him so long as i give him 25 minutes' notice and thankyou you're so great. no i won't shake you're hand, i'll kiss your cheek when you get off. let me do my taxi driver thing and, oh you had more than a tenner so what were you worried about. peck on the cheek and walk to the door and calls me back and says helena, and i walk back and say what? when you have your beauty sleep tonight, yeah. yeah? well, just make sure you don't have too much cos you've already got enough, leave some for us ugly guys.

boxes

while the time has come to put a lot of stuff into boxes, the time has also come to put other stuff out of the very tightly shut boxes it's been sitting on for months and months and dust it off.

arm warmers

men across the land will be sporting lovingly made bits of wool round their arms. ladelentes-fashion-setter.

reverse

one day i came back from work and the walls were a white shade of pink. or a pink shade of white. brother and sister sat exhausted in the middle of it all. i liked it. here it is again.

where does ladelentes end and helena begin?

and how many other creatures are lurking under the surface?

flashback

i used to have a pair of white jeans, with a strawberries or apples print and a kind of cord stitched down the sides. i'm pretty sure i had a pink top to go with them. and a pair of LA Gear trainers which i knew to be the trendiest thing in the world only that brand didn't exist in uruguay, so i may as well have been wearing championes marca perro. one day as i was walking back from my karate evening lessons a group of arseholes surrounded me and touched me. i karate kicked them but i must say if you're a very skinny (they used to say i looked like a coat hanger) 11-year-old then all you manage to do is make them laugh some more, rough you up some more and upset you some more. when i got home my grandparents were at the door, saying goodbye. they saw the rage and tears in my eyes and gave me a big hug. but still i don't think i ever wore those jeans again anymore.

i'm so upset my heart has walked out from my body in disgust. i'm staring at it right now. it looks shrivelled and pathetic, writhing on the floor, going nowhere

nosebleed

choked up

how hard can this be

inveterate liar. this is how my parents would describe me throughout my childhood.

and it was true. i would lie and lie and lie. and spin stories and intricate webs. and then i would believe them myself so much that i would lie without missing a beat. where have you been? at my friends'. where did you spend your holiday? in brazil, surfing. what did you do with him? i can't remember. did you hit your brother? no.

now, though, i have to write a fictional story about myself and i can't for my life think of anything to write about. maybe because who would believe any of it anyway?

emmy the great

i didn't really have a very good reason not to have suggested it except, i didn't know... nevermind. so it still happened which was a very good thing indeed. emmy thinks she may be coming across all lesbian tonight, but i can tell you i would have fallen in love with her either way.

emmy the great

pleasant, thoughtful

time spent with a friend. talking, grazing, smoking. time well spent.

notes

a stressful phonecall
a potential pervert on the tube
an intriguing class
a short dinner
a funky brazilian drink
a stylish carry-on bag exit
a peruvian woman who wants her (english) man to be more machista
a helpful hand
a sleepless night
notes and more notes

stand up, sir...

ahhhh, it's a good thing there are always going to be one or two knights in shining armour out there for the ocassionally distressed princess.

glowing

taxi ride home, london upside down on the thames. blue trees, towering gherking, stratospheric domes. shimmering in the pinklight. a full working night. last night. bag of presents. pink frog. maybe a prince or two. pints in the champion with bristol girl. bounce back for tapas. phone phone phone glow. flowery measuring tape so innocent and yet leading to such a dirty conversation that janet street porter blushes on the table next to us. brandy in cafe kick, newly painted flags shining underfoot. a hat so so so so fetching. bus ride home. no, stop at guanabara for last minute birthday kiss. walk to the aldwich. wonder at last day non-last day feeling. taxi ride. london upside down on the thames. everything upside down. everything glowing. glowing.

last day

i have absolutely nothing to say about it. but there you go. no doubt things will be said one time or another.

spam reading

poem. be artistic.

questions

how many women round the world are awaiting a text message at this very minute?
was that scuttling i heard under my bed the mice coming back?
why has david beckham decided to move to LA?
is going to sleep right now a good idea?
when?
where?
what?

sick

a for the record post.

i'm sick in bed, i'm bored. the wind is blowing outside. it's been blowing like this for days. relentlessly. like the wind in that novel i can't remember which, which would drive people mad. the rubber plant fell over a few days ago, but there really is no point picking it up again for the 100th time.

there's also been a lot of sirens. all night through, from 2am, coming and going. actually coming into my street, into my bed. or maybe that was just a dream. the planes seem incredibly loud, while everything else is muted. i can't hear anything but the noises in my head, the (again, incredibly loud) clacking of the keyboard and the planes. there was also a helicopter coming and going around 5am.

from time to time, my tinnitus moves from one ear to the other. this is its party trick. i usually hear it at the front of my head, but for special occassions it grows louder and more specifically located. today it's doing something which reminds me of the THX promos in cinemas, where you can hear cows on one side of the cinema, then the other. only it isn't cows, it's like feedback when the guitarist moves to the wrong side of the speakers.

oh yeah.

there was a minor crisis at work, but i think this was solved. go do something worthwhile if you're not too busy.

there was a minor crisis with a friend, but i hope this is also solved.

i had a breakfast with yoghurt and blueberries, but i am told i should not have dairy products when i'm sick. how would i know? i'm hardly ever sick. it's a real novelty. a little holiday.

there is naff all on the telly, i can't read because my eyes hurt, i can't knit for the very same reasons. so all i can do is sit up in bed, daydreaming (very very strange thoughts come and visit me, i shoo them away, but they come back, with pictures!)

and so here i am, inflicting this on my poor unsuspecting blog because, well, i am bored. did i say that already?

BBC E-mail: Morrissey in talks for Eurovision

helena saw this story on the BBC News website and thought you should see it.

** Message **
can only be a good thing...

** Morrissey in talks for Eurovision **
Former Smiths singer Morrissey is in talks to write the UK's entry for this year's Eurovision Song Contest.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/1/hi/entertainment/6244153.stm

what do you get for hanging around people that are ill?

ill.

spam reading

moon is. her in diffusion.

the drunken phone call

this is the one where you dial the number, and you hang up. and you dial again. and you hang up. and you dial again. and say let the god of alcohol dictate what i shall say. and you say. hello. and then you mumble a few things. and you don't let the gods dictate anything because what the hell do the gods know? they've been stuck on mount olympus for so long, and baccus is now middle aged and has three kids to look after, and venus is all wrinkled in spite of the botox, and artemis became a vegetarian long ago and is not hunting any more "because of her principles" and the vestal virgins...well, you know, that was a long time ago and the flesh is weak. so instead you say something about the football scores and the phone lines being down -- which they are! you haven't made that bit up! -- and so the drunken call goes on, nicely and easily just as it's meant to do. and the gods are all watching it from their sofa. nodding in approval. oh we're all so grown up aren't we now. how much more grown up than two seconds ago, when we dialled the number and we were feeling at least oh six years of age. which was a good age. when you learned to skip. you found a rhyme. you learned to ride a bycicle. do you remember? up and down luiz franzini, the little wheels off. the dogs barking on the side, but you ignored them oh you're so grown up, and boosh! you went...no little wheels, on your mock-chopper-bike. cycling away, all grown up, ready to go.

advisory

the new barbarossa CD should come labelled:

WARNING!
THIS CD WILL MAKE YOU CRY NO MATTER WHAT YOUR CURRENT STATE OF HAPPINESS.
AVOID ENTIRELY WHEN ON SLIGHTLY SHAKEY GROUND.

god damn them all!

i recently said to someone: we all have problems, and it's all relative to your life. don't minimize or maximize your problems as compared to others, they are only big or small in the context of your own life.

and now i've heard this line in a bloody US sit-com and i'm such a cliche that i will probably vanish into a puff of smoke just after i finish this line

puff!

1,000 reasons women go on benders

because they.........can?

and from now on, i won't worry anymore about what i'll do when i grow up

great lake swimmers - see you on the moon

timing

Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

if you had looked round the tree two minutes ago you would have seen a little frog sitting under it. circumspectly.

this frog is terrified of women. because women just can't stop themselves from picking him up and planting wet, disgusting kisses on his mouth. silly women. and they keep giving him cold sores and all sorts of horrible cross-species diseases. it's only a few days ago he got rid of that nasty, nasty...well, better not to mention it here, really.

he's only a frog. that's it. plain and simple. a frog. nothing more, nothing less.

and i know that. of course. after all, i'm not the kind of woman who goes around kissing frogs, am i?

but the frog can't risk it these days, so as soon as i started to get close (just to take my picture, naturally), it jumped off in a panic, ran straight into the serpentine and i never saw him again.

spam reading

back. no agree.

outside the station (still)

a girl sat in the bus stop shelter, quietly singing to herself. the big issue vendors walked up and down lying to the punters. women shot out of the supermarket laden with processed shopping. besuited lads joshed their way past the singing girl. who. just. kept. singing. quietly. to herself.

the pocket

i put my hand in the pocket and dug deep and found: a broken earring, a piece of wool, an old matchbox (wet), some playing cards, a spider, two oranges, a lottery ticket. your heart, all mangled up.

on the 344 from liverpool street to vauxhall

it didn't occur to me until much later that that was the very same spot where i had decided to make up my mind about it all. i had sat there and thought to myself. yes. this is what i feel about this. this is definitely how it feels to me. it had been a fleeting, momentary decision, but it was made and there it was. sitting in front of me. named. dressed. made up. ready to go. hello, my name is decision and i have been made. who are you? hello, my name is ladelentes and i have been unmade. like a bed. all crumpled. a little bit whiffy. full of breadcrumbs from yesterday's breakfast. where are we going? well, i don't know where you, my decision, are going, but i'm just on my way to vauxhall, with my fresh pasta and my tins of soup and listening to corazon for the third time today, although really it's guard your heart you want to put in your ipod and make yours forevermore.

watch out it's behind you

but soon it will come in front of you and then run you over and there will be a lot of blood spilling all over the place and noone will be there to mop it up so you'd better get out of the way you stupid fucking idiot

this is what they told her

they pushed her against the wall and crowded round her. they told her to come with them and she did. she did. she did. and down they went all the way to the beach. the moon was shining but noone was looking at it. the other girl ran off in disgust. how can you not look at the moon when it is shining. how can you be so unromantic on the beach. oh you can be. it's just her and the boys and the moon that noone is looking at and noone's looking at her and she's far away on some other beach where there are no boys. how annoying they are. asking for things, go on then just get off. just fucking do it, she just wants to be on the beach with the moon and the sand and the sound of the waves crashing in and the only way she'll get there is if she stops looking at them and starts looking at herself. from a distance. far away. detached. and later they are gone, and she's blind. and cold and noone's going to give her their jacket because knights died a long time ago and there are no white horses and, let's face it, she's not a princess no more. or at least that's what they told her.

to-do list

flowers & questions
a crumble
withnail and i script
'shrooms
the chair
that other thing

cheering

nothing like coming home to a fresh bunch of flowers. thanks mr c.

end on a high note, start as you mean to go on

i can hear my own heart beat throbbing in my ears. if you look very carefully, you can see it through my belly. breathe in. breathe out. one of the biggest problems i'm going to have in the next year is to try to make it more exciting and amazing than the last. boy, will it take some effort! all the things i'll have to do in order to keep the current standards, and not repeat myself like a damn old bore. friendships, journeys, discoveries, art, music...even the weather. it's all been too fucking amazing (which is why this blog is often so cryptic: it's not always intentional, sometimes i just really can't find the words). pause. ok, that's it. that's as much of an insight as i can have 14 minutes into the second day of the 2007th year since the death of mr JC.

new year's resolutions

physical energy
Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

to be more brave
to be more honest
to be more simple