British Summer Time GMT+1
it gets late so early in london when i first moved here, i hated that it gets late so early in london. i'd be out, wild, flapping around on the floor, throw my phone out of my pocket and down beside me, scrape it closer to me with my little penny-pin eyes peering to see the time feels like 5, like 4:00 like 3:41a.m. but i'd tap tap and it's 21:09. now i love it, though. you can have an entire NIGHT, and then another little mini extra night, and then you can get home at 1am and get up for work. but i still don't _understand_ it. like, how does it work? it isn't that far from places that aren't like this. in Belfast nights starts at 10pm. they don't end. in Liverpool nights start late morning and last until late morning too. Dublin nights start at 6 and finish at 2. But in London nights start at 8pm, go on for nine hours and then stop at eleven.
British Summer Time GMT+1

week 27; 2023

i don't know if there is a way to write this without sounding arrogant, but i think there's just too much of me. i get so excited when i get to spend the whole of one part of me with someone, i lose myself in it. then i remember about all the other parts of me, the "let's watch every nicholas cage movie without stopping for a break" or the "let's spend 4 days in the woods with no plans" or the "let's eat only yoghurt for an entire day" or the "i don't want to go outside anymore" or the "i hate myself i hate myself i hate myself" or the "let's go to venezuela tomorrow" or the "how tall can a stack of pennies be without falling over don't google it" or the "i want to make a song entirely from your vowel sounds" or "let's go to the theatre" or the ones that aren't available right now because any moment in life is a veil around all the parts of yourself who aren't present. i remember those and then somebody's heart gets broken. usually mine, which i'm fine with. but sometimes it's another heart and that i just cannot abide.

this week was kind of a light week. it was lovely, though. on monday i went to work. on the way home i met a colleague of mine i'd never met before. really a very fantastic and interesting individual who is unexpectedly up for living, and who i hope i will spend many more hours with before we both die. after that i stopped by this particular bar near cannon street that i enjoy ordering the worst drinks in the world from. this time i ordered a pretty good drink. a big tom, two shots of tequila, and as many chopped limes as they were willing to fork over. they forked over 5 wedges, i mixed the drinks and added the juice of a whole lime and a furniture wedge and took to drinking. needs salt. checked a table. no salt. asked two ladies as the next table if their table had salt. not only did ellis provide me with salt, she also provided me with the skills to get salt from what i'd previously understood to be a pepper shaker.

ellis and caroline were exceedingly lovely. only in London for the week. their phones had died, both, at the previous bar. they had 1 iPhone and 1 android. i had a battery and a usb-c cable and a lightning cable. i stayed with them while they charged their phones. we chatted and got on very well. caroline's hands were cold. my hands were warm. they're from that town that has that oldest sausage kitchen. we all left together and walked over towards borough market. they wanted something cheap but good to eat. i brought them to a kebab place that i favour before they took the jubilee line back home. caroline and i held hands. it was, ,, very nice. we agreed to hang out again. we never did.

a big project at work started to wrap up. on Thursday evening i headed out to the warehouse to see dear Val. it was so nice to see her and remember who i am. and then to forget who and where i was. it was nice to spend an evening with adele, too, who will be leaving soon. she is very kind and i wish i could travel to her memory of her home, which seems like a place i could have a good time. it was good to meet Val's beau and to see Damian (as always). it's a good place there and one of which i will always be a part, and that will always be a part of me, no matter what. i believe in it, in what is happening there. i was asked two questions last week that i was in no position to answer due to the negative manner in which ketamine affects my comprehension and vocabulary and to which i have much clearer answers now.

i tidied my apartment. it's still a mess. but it's so much better than it's been in a long time and i feel like a whole different capybara. i learned that in venezuela they call a capybara "chigüile" which has my name in it. chee is short for chigüile now. chigüile achiote valentina conejita is my full name. please update your records.

on friday night i went to windsor to see the babe Duckie Hughes in a 60s musical. it was really, really good. i loved it. 60s music, 60s make-up, duckie hughes. so many of my favourite things in one place. i wept repeatedly and openly right there in the front row. small theatre is so kinetic. they open an umbrella and you feel it clack against your bones. afterwards i got stuck in windsor. another one of those dazes where i went to do a thing and then afterwards suddenly "fuck, i'm here". forgot they don't have public transport at night. took me until 7am to get home. slept all day. woke up and stuck on an ivicore set. good day. lots of tequila. lots of sleeping. lots of television. redyed my hair. used uv dye. excited about portugal. can't believe i'm flying in a week. i think i'm the only person out of the people i'm going with who have a ticket yet. jaja. hope that's normal.

anyway, i love you, you, you, you and you. you, i like.

also, 🥨.

also, goodbye.

British Summer Time GMT+1
does anyone wanna go to that tequila bar that's hidden as a speakeasy through the kitchen of the breakfast club outside borough market?
British Summer Time GMT+1
currently dying of a brand of anxiety which can only be treated by taking cute selfies with props and facepaint
British Summer Time GMT+1
oh u thought this was a rabbit? they thought this was a rabbit that’s fucking funny bitch it’s fucking winnie the fucking pooh yeah yeah fuck fourth of july