yo

feeling gloopy

i was right and wrong, last week

this week was crashy but great, and good, and beautiful actually and occasionally <???>???

my ex called me a few times this week to explain all my flaws.

hieroglyphic missingno glitch battle wrapped up in bubblewrap.

on tuesday we worked at the tonk office which was sick. goblin’s a wonderful creature. pretty swell. i lost my keys, stayed in a hotel in Bethnal Green. got new keys in the morning. tipped a man £20 and he teared up and then asked me why i don’t have any friends.

on thursday rosie walker taught us to use a knitting machine. i love the knitting machine. i love that everything has to have just the right amount of tension i love that all the mechanisms are so strange and slight and all of it only works when everything is there, and the yarn plays an essential part in the operation of machinery of its own knitting. it is so meditative, and careful, and shunk-shunk the carriage shunk-shunk. and on the bus. and on the overground a man recited for us a poem about sunshine and love he wrote when he was in prison. saw some people from the FT that night. the next night we went through foc submissions with *checks watch* Reese.

on saturday grjte had a family day at her home. it was really wonderful. i arrived late and left early.

met up with andromeda:> on sunday, who is a star. hopefully coming to demo at foc on thursday. prufrock. bright light.

i’m very tired. and the tazmanian devil. and that little mexican mouse. maybe i should listen to the stoat when it says press the red button. your smile ignites my pilot light. EPS26. tear up thinking about the corner. silent fight. now i’m in bed though, surrounded by yoghurt. tomorrow i’ll make a casserole in the vintage pyrex. all kinds of mushrooms and all kinds of cheese. need a chest of drawers put all these fabrics. and a cunty little curtain to keep the kitchen away.

with the amount that happened this post should really be 400 paragraphs long like portugal. embed my chat logs in my tombstone so it’s all out when i’m long gone to my new home. another guessing game.

judgement came fast. but first, i accidentally melted a plastic-handled knife in a frying pan and set off the fire alarms in the whole building. the carbon monoxide alarm started beeping. fire alarms started going off in the whole building. up i ran to the little box in the hall. i said “silence” and it asked for a security code. i typed two two two two and there was quiet. nobody stirred from their quarters.

when was it that i was cooking every day and making casseroles in the vintage pyrex? feels recent. but i haven’t been at that for a while. breakups, and business. i don’t have any pots or pans at all right now. it’s strange not to cook. i wish to make some soup. where’s that book lb recommended? maybe i put it on the kitchen cupboard with the other books.

“excuse me, i don’t want to interupt you, but where did you get those mary janes?” the stuff of dreams

but that was all on sunday. the week was really hard. i think this week will be even harder. i can’t even write about it. sometimes a week feels like hormones went away. that scratchy feeling on the inside of the skin, like the plasma is trying to escape.

3 of swords. the tower.

i spent saturday in the pit. at 11pm i walked up to a bar and had a lucky saint.

sunday i had a long phone call about all my flaws. then i fell asleep. i woke up at midnight and put my new bed together.

i didn’t think i would be going back to the pit. i thought i’d left that behind. it’s okay, though. if i’m going to be destroyed and rebuilt. but i miss being happy. that was a good wee run.