it was my little rabbit birthday this week.

sorry i’m so late with the entry.

i’ve been moving back and forth and back and forth. i’ve spent 10 or more hours this week travelling between my old apartment and new. i’m in the back of a cab right now, in fact. it’s mostly been on snakes of teal, snakes of two thin stripe, snakes of royal purple. but today is a little cabbier.

oh yes, i got the keys to my new apartment! on my birthday. now i only have to remember one date when i’m filling in forms. is that too much information to put in public? you wouldn’t identity theef me would you? i’m so kind and you look so good right now. absolutely your colour.

my birthday was marked by several specific extremely potent messages from a few exceedingly specific people. one of them in particular has made me cry at least once a day since then. very wet eyes about the whole thing. very wet eyes girl. feeling cherished. and cherishing.

yes and so that was monday. and we are in a new season. of course my birthday is the first day of spring as everyone agrees. rabbit season. tenderstem broccoli season, so says prufrock. and i walked to prufrock after getting the keys. it’s real nearby now, hopping distance. scoot scoot scoot. and then i sat in prufrock with a smile on my face and i a little wet eyes and a smile and ate the tenderstem brocolli. the eggs benny with seasonal veg is great, though i think it could do with 2 or 3 flakes of maldon in the sauce to take a little edge off the bitter of the mustard. but that’s just me, a little rabbit. a simple rabbit with big ideas.

and i was so excited that i slept in the apartment that night without bed nor blanket — though i did bring a pillow and i wrapped myself up in a rug. the next day i learned my green overnight can hold a whole double duvet and i no longer trust my ability to spatially reason. and later that night i went to the github next thing at granola and saw max and ben and mimi. good event. cherry dash. there’s a bunch of stuff to say. but i’m not quite ready to pull these entries into that part world yet. that world where it is the computer, and politic, and the future, and the darkness, and the light and the beep boop and the sober reflection on the state of it. i don’t know why. there was a time, i suppose, when the only people i knew who read my blog would have been bored to death by that. and maybe once i was afraid. neither of these things are true anymore i think, because those people stopped reading a long time ago. and i know what i believe now so i am not afraid.

hmm. maybe next time. maybe next time. but, here’s the thing. you gotta put it in the execution environment. like Squeak. and, like… here’s the other thing. you know? like. keep it cute. soft. and, like, you know… it’s hard to find your way to user power if you pay your rent with monopoly money. anyway, it’s none of my business. it’s really fun to attend these sorts of things with someone you run one of these sorts of things with.

and then on the way home to my cute meeting my phone died and i got lost because i don’t know where i live because i just moved there yesterday and i was a little scared and late and lost and then out of nowhere mimi appeared and gave me directions and that was lovely and it’s so nice when everything just works out all magic. the cute meeting was also magic. but i don’t know how to talk about that here yet either.

and wednesday was nice, close and cozy. and back and forth and back and forth.

and thursday, back over again. and up all night with the boxes, fall asleep on a sofa cushion balled up like doggy does. and in the morning dear sweet kind kara came and gave me her van driving powers and her ankle and we put all of the boxes in the back of a van and the sofa and the tables and then to shoreditch and unloaded it all and it was exhausting and i am so grateful to her for that.

and on saturday back and forth more, and wander around town, and write a few little songs. i think i’m working on a quiet party album/e.p.? maybe it’s something like fieldisturbance. i certainly feel there’s something in all these little disconnected pieces, maybe lots of little pieces. it has a working title and a cover that i’m not ready to share. :))

and yes and so it’s sunday and i’m back in CHURCHUTCH and there is the EOT cleaning in the morning. i had two men come and take all the trash bags away today, and they took apart the desk and took many things away. i’ve really not, in my time on this earth, taken enough advantage of the feature of life where you can give people $200 and then they do things you don’t want to do.

i’ve made some cool things recently that im not yet able to share. hopefully soon. instead, mimi invites you to ski over here: ski together. and you should come ski because it is gentle. one of my favourite computer feelings is two people together in a place where they have a form, but have no text, no speech. and the two of you will find a way to say “i am here” to one another. and more. and there’s something about the silent, faraway-type feeling, where we are together but apart… and then we excavate connection… and find away to play. idk, it feels so near and whisper, little breath and quiet. i’ve felt that computer feeling acutely several times over the past four months or so, and i feel drawn to that computer feeling like one might a vocation.

now i will take advantage of the tall ceilings and empty rooms and windows that look out over the graveyard and the cherry blossoms across the road and try to capture some vocals with the haunting crisp beautiful acoustics of this room that once was mine. and ours. and ours.

i am calm and happy, and bursting with excitement. and sleepy. and ready for the next next few months. i have no idea what they hold, but i think that i know who and where.

hey baby

it’s my birthday tomorrow

i’m in my extraordinarily late twenties

talking full refund on uber eats type late

talking [formal] (of a person) no longer alive type late

hey babe

i got an apartment

i’m getting the keys tomorrow

i think my life is about to change completely

uber eats game crazy

1 tube from everywhere

30 minute walk from prufrock

yeah

let’s get matching tattoos that say “it’s sad but it’s true” and under that “⬛︎⬛︎⬛︎” and a canada goose in a paddling pool

i mean

wait, wait. i was gonna say something nope, it’s gone. it’s gone.

oh yeah. so i took a few days off to pack, put my life into boxes (this is my last resort). stayed up late and “helped” beano with her homework. she is a lightsource and the owner of many good brush pens and very funny and good. afterwards i sat down between two towers of boxes and thought about how i’ve not had a vacation since 2024, and now the year ends in the number six. i dyed the front leaves of my hair orange. that brought back a rush of memories; i cried for a while which is good. i’ve been holding onto some stuff for a manufacturer of quality soups that’s gonna land me in a pickle, which i do not relish. it’s been a long year since christmas three christmases ago, and i’ve got to take some time to wring it out of myself and into the radio. feel like i’ve been having, in a personal capacity, a week where decades happen twice a week for half a year.

sometimes you’re just waiting around for someone to have a dream they can’t explain.

wait, wait. i was gonna say something — nope, it’s gone. it’s gone.

oh yeah, .

foc was really special. again. i fucking love this event. all the people are so great, and i love stomping around and having silly little chitter-chatters with everyone. and telling everybody how amazing their demos were (they were) and thanking them. and telling everybody how i’m so happy they came and thank you and listening to their ideas about the computer and saying “pleeeeease submit a demo for next time!!!!!!” because they are all so cute and excited and interesting. and i love running it with lu and with mimi and i just can’t imagine a better setup. like 3⁄4 of the people were first time this time and it still felt like FoC, it was charged up and the air was vibrating and there was too much pizza.

and now i’m moving apartments to just a few minutes run from there. i know it’s just a few minutes run because i got to the event just as the drinks were arriving, and then i ran to the viewing, took the place, and ran back for setup and pizza. might be the first time i’ve run in a decade. oh! i almost forgot. another of my dreams came true. i stepped out in front of somebody’s car and they shouted “fucking bitch!” out the window. isn’t that wonderful? they wanted to hurt my feelings, but they did it on my terms. you feel me? i’m so cute and popular.

you think i’m never lonely because i’m so cute and popular?

okay so today we transition from the Wheel of Fortune to the Page of Swords and do you know what queen? maybe!

i’d had this rule with heroin ever since i was a teenager. i’d try it, but only ever in one v. specific scenario: somehow i’d come into posession of it, but had no idea how to acquire any more.

later on i’m twenty something. the summerhouse with nothing but a piano and a bed. but then fiancee, inevitable, and the leaving suddenly in the dark of night with grandfather’s whiskey. but there’s a party in the big house with the girls from the charity. i’m working my way through a line of coke and that extremely tall loud software engineer that josie likes comes in the room and tells me amy winehouse died.

at the end post wind down, there’s josie out on the steps leading up to the door. we sit beside each other for a while and look up at the stars. we kiss a little and say “this feels terrible” and “can we not do this again?”. i tell her i have nowhere to live and she invites me to stay in the room above her mother’s kitchen with nothing but a cello and a bed.

and i walk through the city as the sun starts to rise. “can i borrow your phone mate?” a guy on the corner of the street. he tells me im tryna call a guy to see if his wife’s gone so i can drop by. so i asked what he was buying? heroin. how much does that cost? he makes the call. took my cash, up the street and back with a bag and some advice: don’t take it.

and back to josie’s house and it’s a small room but warm and sometimes her mother comes in and teaches me a little cello. here’s how to hold a bow, how to turn it when you pull. i like the cello. i spent a few days snorting h, making websites for my first real web dev job, reading books and playing cello. i gathered my things and got on a plane to chicago where i would embark involuntarily upon the dark quinquennium. but yes, i can see the appeal. no pain, no anxiety, no world around at all, no fear, in heaven phasing through memories and imaginary worlds and always where you are, but chitter chatter with little sepia ghostlies as you maybe-here-maybe-don’t and all the while it’s like she’s holding you. at some point i threw up in a pizza box. papa john’s.

this week, though… i worked a lot. talked to some people. wrote little bits of songs i can never commit to record at least until they aren’t true anymore. i’m taking the next few days off to get every little thing in boxes. the kitchen’s pretty much done now. just need to trash one cupboard of trash. i am gonna have a lot of boxes. most of the apartments i’ve found so far may be too small to fit the boxes. i said, she said. eyes wet, cheeks red. goosebumps, deep breath. scruffy angel on, yes, the chopping block. bless her cotton socks. get the coffee pot, set your pocket watch, let a bottle rocket off. unless you lost a lot, i guess you walk it off. skyyyyrockets in flight, afternoon delight. of course that’s your contention you’re a first year hospitality student just got through eating some gastronomical schnitzel, cordon bleu probably. thrift store hunting, little driver seat, cooper, self preservation society, like homecoming, eurostar “get it?” like quantum physics (in your window). like quiet party, jerry springer messy— black and white, under water, up in the sky. jack up, rose up, car crash, hook line and sink and a day later, weak forty eight, two hours and forty drenched, but we’ll be okay, we can wait, eighty-eight and twenty-three (and three), ADH and LSD and R-QP. an hour a day five days a week keeps the doctor at bay, silent, asleep. quiet and sweet. try it and see. i’d like to be under the sea in an octopus’s garden in the summerhouse with nothing but a piano and a bed.

the rest of sunday, after publish, i stayed up late talking to the girlies. someone said “it’s so obvious” and i thought about that. i’m still thinking ‘bout that. we hugged goodbye. too much, not enough. bade farewell at the locked chang-chang metal in the doorway. thanks for welcoming me in.

early monday marcel and me and mimi jump into a taxi. hello madrid and we put marcel on a train. hello madrid and we have our breakfast. mimi says “Oh. My. God.” when i take the first bite of the whole mozarella ball at the exit of the lidl. a few minutes later she inquires, with a certain amount of trepidation, where is the cheese? eyes darting at my pockets in desperation. with a still face and a minute shake of the head i express the cheese is gone, it has been eaten, please don’t ask any further questions about the cheese. she says “Wow.” with a tone that does not entirely convey approval.

a coffee shop fix up. information hierarchy. tostada, salad. nice place. good beans. and gently so gently, and back to the station and we put mimi on a train.

and i against the wall, on the floor, write down on the computer about this and about that. and off to the upstairs platform, and i put chee on a train.

marcel missed his connection by a minute.

his new train is tomorrow. same train as me and mimi. he gets a room at the hotel on top of the station. i’m nearby, the two of us meet up and eat tacos.

a man in the street tells me that i am looking beautiful, and tells me to lick my lips. i say no thank you. he calls me a bitch, and tells me i’m a man, and calls me a bitch, and tells me i’m a man.

back at my hotel (the moxy where the pillow casings say “i woke up like this”), i make arrangements with cherene to have breakfast in the morning.

sunset.

daybreak.

i wake up in my boots.

i don’t remember ever falling asleep in my boots before 2025, but since september i’ve woken up in a bed in my boots three times or more.

yes, it’s the morning. birds are chirping, i presume. i find cherene and we wander around talking until the coffee shops open. he’s going to be a father. after an iced latte, he takes me to his favourite pastry shop where i acquire a pair of xuxos (also spelt chuchos), a sort of cannoncini or corone made of croissant. they look delicious, greasy, i’d like one but it would kill me. one for each of my trainmates is almost just as satisfying. xuxo means mutt. a sparkly eyed dog of mixed ancestry. we have a wonderful chat about arts and theatre and libraries and research, weirdos, alchemy, identity, and promise. and, of course, the computer.

goodbye cherene, and through security. send platform and gate info to my colleagues to lower the background radiation of stress. + marcel arrives, + is issued a pastry and receives it quite gladly. mimi arrives, and is issued pastry, and receives it with a certain amount of trepidation due to the fact she is currently constructed almost entirely from a chocolate cake with no raising agent that lives in the belly like a foot tall brownie.

we board. seated dispersed assorted amongst the two carriages either side of the cafe car. i meet some dogs for a while; they poke their little noses round the corner in front and i boop. the first class cars have little telephone calls booths. i go there and sit and i make a little music for a while. a little later i visit mimi in the coffee queue in the cafe car and we have a little coffee and then we spend thirty or forty. mimi’s pointing out the window and telling me about the birds. i love to hear about all the different birds and how to recognize the different birds by stance and colour. there are a lot of flamingos who don’t migrate anymore because france is warm enough these days all year. instead they stand around getting pale near rice.

marcel comes up to the cafe from the lower 13 and we all have an early lunch. mine is a salad of two eggs on the gratings of a single carrot, soaked in what appears to be the juice of 9 whole lemons. we split up back to our seats, but the aisle seat beside my seat contains a sleeping passenger that i feel no desire to disturb. it’s clear to see, to me, that she needs the sleep more than i need my seat. i return to the first class telephone calls booth and make a little music for a while and write down on the computer about this and about that.

and we arrive in Paris. or, as the French call it, “Lille”. and we find the moisturizer. and we find a late lunch. and we find our tickets and they are miraculously next to one other. you know, we were meant to be in different carriages. and the journey is easy. and quiet. and i make a little music for a while. and chunnel. and goodbye. and home. and meet harry in the hallway. and “the longest week of my life” and “yes in a good way”. and unlock the door and see boxes and boxes and boxes. and fall asleep in my boots.

wake up.

follow the rabbit.

knock knock.

on wednesday i work, unexpectedly. tighten it up, throw things together. hop on a call.

on thursday i work, unexpectedly. loosen up. throw some things together. hop on a call. at night i go out to newspeak house to see agnes cameron and join a group converting psychic damage about the arms industry into wikipedia edits. afterwards i see orion and gamithra and i talk too much about nothing and drain me too. i find myself in that hallway so many now.

on friday i work, and show some of the things off that i’ve been making and it goes quite well. i’m excited about the conversations in the sidebar. the chat had many messages of people saying things that i’ve been trying to say, but they said them much better than i could. several other people demo’d and each one of them was really fucking good. and i hop on a call. and a story i’ve been since 25/46 shows finale, renewed for two more seasons.

the apartment i wanted went to somebody else. i don’t have anywhere lined up yet. might end up putting everything in storage and living as a vagabond. i’m packing it (my life) in boxes. open a cupboard, touch something, flood of memories of who touched it once before—what kind of love led it here to my hand. and all that love is dead now. and all so far away. i don’t remember even being the kind of person who would feel it. thank god i’ll never have to go through all that again. learning someone. being learned.

but for now i’ll be touching a box of pegs in the kitchen and crying. because of the meaning of the pegs. or the chopping board, cassette tape, spiralizer, envelope, little flag, deck of cards, water bottle matching water bottle isn’t here, power cable, saddam hussein tshirt, knock-off danish jenga set, empty camera case, cardboard box with label maker label, vape juice (mango), eye shadow, broken glasses, vases, talavera pussy cat, baseball cap, single sock, tampons, pads, painkillers, gaming mouse, washi tape, masking tape, instant pot (does anyone want a free instant pot? for free, instant pot, barely used?), little wooden animals, whistle, train ticket receipt, magnetic e-ink screen, ladybird egg shaker, thin blue raincoat, cherries sticker, high heel shoe strap. you know, rich and relentless. need rest and recuperation. sentimental convalescence.

a good thing to learn is how to be uncomfortable. to maintain your connection to yourself when the vibes are all the way off. i don’t know any way other than practice. and it’s gonna suck for a while. and you’ll spend some time like the wax a lot. but there are few things that can make you more secure than knowing you’ll be okay when nothing is. and relax, don’t pull, like a finger trap. accept the worst and plan for it and then go for the gold.

cupknight,
wheel of fortune,
page of swords,
ace of wands,
judgement,
ace of pentacles.

almost too vibrant.

i’m living canadian hours this week, packing boxes after nightfall. happy international ladybird day week to those who celebrate.