"Get the ick" sounds like something went inside, but in those moments it feels like something went out. Fell out of me, belly dropped, soul fell out of me.

dog biscuits

you’re not eating the dog biscuits are you?

awww yuck... i mean, the boneos are alright. but not them shiny ones they have here

They talked for a while about the best dog treats

i used to eat the charcoal ones

my dog'd look at me like i had nine heads but

well he wouldn’t eat them…

so i'd eat them

rats don’t taste too bad… but rat piss?

(That's a big red man with a bald head)

you wouldn’t want to upset that newfoundland.
you got a lab, or a retriever?

a shot of rum please

• a splash of coke
• a little more
• a little more

Twinkish guy, with a tough energy like he’s tired of living

Keeps asking for a little splash more until she's got a cuba libre for him

there’s a rumor that there’s gonna be hairdresser here.

but it’s not true. it’s a fierce rumour.

there’s gonna be a pool room here.

and then

i find myself in Eataly yet again. Fascinated by this place. It has so many restaurants, and cafes, and a school. Where am i? A kind of designer department store for spaghetti and cured meats. They have their own cola. And then i happened upon that skinny escalator elsewhere and through the dark tunnel and the sign "Follow the stairs to ███████" duct tape over the wordless horror of where we would end up, and then at the end of threatening building site escher forms and turns a garden? A little garden, and everybody is having little drinks and there that young man is holding that young woman by the jowls and locking forever in her eyes* and the sign says "Eataly Ice Cream" and am i still here? In this place? It's everywhere?

*i know some forget-me-nots. i've forgotten lots. and then with absolutely zero prior notice: i forgot my oath, the magnum opus (silent focus);. transiens dissocians (like the migratory locust) onto solitaire and then we're lying on the grass, like after malaga, "ay, ¡que simpatica!", looking at the flowers growing (myosotis sylvatica). and how they are against the rhodochrosite, against the silver in the dusty charcoal. sounding out the vowels, open sesame, a little cube with false impressions there to make you feel better.

And May and i, we went for dinner in the place upstairs from my apartment. It's good having dinner there, because whenever we've agreed to meet I get off my chair.

hair event

And the next day i cut off all my hair. Sally did. i watched. i enjoyed her thoroughly, an absolute treasure. and she knows agnes. we had in-jokes by the end of the short journey we took to my new hair. i may have gone too short and boy'd myself and the only solution might be to make some of it even shorter on the sides just for contrast.

and then i went to an event where the software felt like white feminism but it was nice to see Marie. my social battery 🪫 and i should not have gone, but it was nice to see Marie. anyway it all seems cozy nice but too cathedral and not like love. spoiled by FoC where mean girl energy dissipates on contact with the air.

other notes

i can see around your mouth you used to be like that all the time. Your eyes have all that stormy in them and you're fighting with her now. i hope that you can learn to love her and forgive her, she deserves it and she's worth it. Some day she'll give way to you; some day she'll be you. You're fighting with her, and i get it. i mean, she seems like a proper little prick. But she's clearly very loveable and needs a little patience. i bet it pissed her right off that she's so loveable, the poor thing, just look at her.

this time next week

next sunday i will be writing after the zoo where i will go with beano. ivy and me and beano are going to the zoo. and then i'll go vancouver, maybe take a boat to a cove? and then to gatineau to ring bell and see wed my friend. and then to montreal, where i will see some other things. and then to kingston to a new friend. and then toronto to an old friend. and to play a show at the rivoli.

On Friday evening there was a girl outside my window crying. And then she started to sing. The people in the street started cheering and clapping, and then everyone began to scream.

But, yes, i'm nervous. i could have had a baby by now. Every day, when i wake up. every night, before i sleep. and 🗣️ in 🙊 on 🎭 in 🗺️. . But it's been helpful having time to learn.

The lads are out today. Hollering and shouting. Dropping bottles, screaming. i love it here, it's unhinged. They were a little scary, the boys.

i'm so honoured that you thought of me when there was something beautiful and ineffable about a mechanical night beast.

jersey

has to be xxxx AND meaningful. can’t be either, must be both.

i bought a bottle, another one. i think i was just so surprised. and there it was up there in Superdrug on the shelf behind the counter, where i knew it was. top shelf, leftmost. i knew it was there, but then "oh look there it is," i tricked myself. 4 eyeliner pencils and the wavy girl.

anyway.

i'll dump it on everything before i leave, like kate moss did for the united states. like treasa did for parkas that would be left in the back of a taxi. taxi sped off before i got in, (bitter about it, but on reflection probably the driver said so) and that nice couple brings you in and sits you at their old hard wood table that must be older than their marriage. and they telephone your family, and the parka's never seen again. of course, you get a new one. Fred Perry, years later. you can tell by the look on Chuck's face that she isn't impressed. and that big fluffy hood that zipped right off. it could fit three of me now. was the blue bag in there too? and the bmo wallet in the outermost pocket. and not for the last time, an act like that. a purchase from fred perry "you disgust me" and then walk into the pond.

i never really understood it: the staring, the hollering, the hooting. but now i guess i see that certain shapes are like a piece of music. played well, played live, spontaneous. bones, i mean. silver in dusty charcoal. lying on the grass looking up at the sunflowers growing. how they are against the sky. it's real money, thousands in today's, and it'd be a wealthy titled lady wearing furs like that. not to mention the fentanyl. α-sentimentanyl. rhodochrosite, raspberry ripple, "an extraordinary mineral here to help you let go and release anguish, pain, and trauma weighing on your mind and heart". you could get taken apart, you could even take part!

yes. all mad. all sickness, hormones, dietary. indiana jones with the endocrine system, and the distribution of vitamins. and "i'm so sick of being strong, keeping on and keeping on" and nothing in this world makes you feel like that.

there's a thought i had yesterday that made me bawl with tears, and i have another one for oxytocin. it's safer to. in a way they're the same. like the speckled limestone is the violin. the way it plays with your brain. you could say that they... it could maybe explain... well if they ever make a medicine for the state of you i'll take it too. i'm bathed in sunshine: blood red, ice cold, dusky days. and there's no need, always, for all of it. i can zip right up, shut up, buckle up, giddy up.

but you, you little pint of collagen water shaken smooth in a metal bottle, you could accept your inconsistency. i mean, you can stop trying to know everything (or anything) about yourself. it's okay, that's what i'm trying to say.

life is long, it'll be here when you get back. you can let go. and, i hope i'm not speaking out of turn to say that you are spectacular and deserve to feel like they're so fucking lucky sometimes. all the time, really.

it’s kara’s birthday. happy birthday kara.

and: hello again, little one.

you know, you gotta learn to judge your own work the way you do other people’s. getting feedback is important, that’s part of it: true. but you gotta learn to sharpen your eye against your heart because that’s what your voice is.

yeah, you know. read it through, check where the feelings are. fix em up. nothing you don’t already know.

this weekend has been very zero. but before that, the start of the week, i missed my aeroplane. i ended up for a lil time still in berlin all by myself. it was nice. i got home sick. miss my girlies, miss my little life. but then i found myself at the gate. dimples at the gate. not this time, but thank you. and once again a metal tube, and once again a smaller tube capable of slow teleportation. “coffee? rarely. a cup every two to three weeks”. you remind me of someone. everything does.

and i’m smelling quite fascinating, and seemingly an article of interest worthy of inspection. pale, pink, crinkle cut. “semi-skimmed??? yeah! two semi-skimmed!! both of them!!!”. yes, yes. silent Y. every single little detail.it’s all [tktktk] right in (scratched but with intent, engraved? there’s a word with a pointed metal object looks like a mouse nose… it’s like that in my bones. like they’re signed or awarded to the top player.) and inside my chest, in the blood, the colour all diffuse like espresso over ice into milk (like marble) dark and stormy. and you’re like that. you have weather. sunny, stormy. and you warned me “sunny, stormy”. turbulence. the pool around the heart. suspended, kind of, (heart). everything is still except the “clonk clonk” machinery, the pipes, it’s like a ghibli. pictures and music. moving pictures. lights and cameras. danger, achtung, rumbling little wheels along the floor. roll zero, zero yaw, platform pitch and pierce aurora landing with an hour made up in air. and there’s nothing left to give! they’d know exactly who they aren’t, that’s not something i can do! and i can’t give up on myself, and i can’t let go of goo. i don’t think i’ve ever been home sick before. not that i can recall ever in my life. and i was so excited, in the airport, to be getting on a plane towards Heathrow.

and i got home and a dream where i was ███████ at ████‘s ███████ and i looked out the window down into the car and we ████ ███ ███████. i should have said something, but it was always the wrong time until it was too late. of course, Gil didn’t like watching the women’s tennis because of the sounds they make. and there’s the easyhotel old street, i stayed here after the breakup. all night drunk talking to nick, listening to cumbia. (peruvian.)

lmao remember that time sid called miss coulter a dozy cunt and got sent to the principal, and as he was leaving under protest he said it’s not even a fucking swear. nextistential fight or flightless birdy tap the window come on in your cracked up legs i know what’s next my box your nest you rest and nestle convalesce in darkness later acquiesce the window’s open i accept one day it’s empty no protest. from me, i mean. the window’s open. 2am. a spot right here. forgive the mess. barely had a moment, either coming in or going. but at 8am on monday, 5pm on tuesday, something happened beneath my bed and i’m not straight now (horizontal) je serais ton corneille

and this weekend has been very zero. at 7pm yesterday i finally left my bed after laying in one spot deathly hungry for a day. a couple came up to me outside spitalfields, told me that they warm to my energy, that i am a unicorn, that i’m sitting by myself on the wrong side of town. i got misgendered a lot and then i went home. it’s harrowing; we’re breaking up. that’s a soil joke. that’s a weather and gardening reference. then new things grow but the ecosystem is destroyed, think of all the worm holes. it’s a last resort. try planting a big long white radish first. today it’s Sunday, my big ambitions reach as far as Superdrug to buy the wavy hair conditioner (smells like passionfruit and coconuts) and maybe redye my hair and maybe i’ll veet my body til it’s dolphins, and repair my biome. need a week where i eat only what rabbits eat like lettuce, carrots, water, beets — sorry, thinking out loud.

oh i’m going to canada next month. like this:

🛫 -> calgary 🏩
🐯🫛 🦓 🧀 🍃 🏩
✈️ -> vancouver 🏩
🚣? 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰?
🚣? 🏩
✈️ -> ottowa 🚍 -> gatineau 🏩
🏩 + 👯‍♀️
👰‍♀️ + 🏩
🏩
🚘 -> montreal 🏩
🏩
🏩
🚍 -> kingston 🏩
🚍 -> toronto 🏩
🏩
🛬 -> london (real london, in england)

let me know if you want to hang out. especially on those days when i’m only in a love hotel or hospital towards the end of the month.

and … what else what else what

elsewhither

hello

it’s me

the same rabbit as before

first day, second day. it’s okay that you don’t just because i do, and it’s okay that you don’t, because i do. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.

lights off, machine talk, night space, pre-watch. not raedy, not ready, not ready, not ready. midnight, one-two. testing, want to. sleeping, waking, all day, working, round and round and round and round. and it’s good now, quick dips and repair on the go. bipedal repair kit.

get up there and tell them. they ought to know. little naughty animals. next year, next year, next year, next year. who knows. sometimes. scraps from the table. this land, your land. pickled blood. i’ve a reason. a little salt. and not just that, but every day. potassium.

everything down on paper. paper is plastic, acrylic and pens. i’ll keep standing up, i guess. everything down. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too. that would help. fusion, vision, future, fission. not because of that, but independently in response to that. like end of winter. pickled blood. a little nitrate. leafy grebes. starling, shrike. murderous shrike, head on a spike. painting of a warbler impaled on a thorn by an iberian shrike in the winter.

“whose side are you fucking on”

“oh my god i am so sorry”

don’t you apologize to this man, tell him he’s a cunt, tell keith he’s a cunt!

✅ highlight mentions

✅ highlight moments

✅ highlight breakfasts

radiate. or, i guess, emanate. waves. light, pouring out. rippling through. glow, shiver. doing okay? good, thanks. everything out on the table. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too, it could help. nobody wants it? i’m partially undone. take it slow. break for lunch. queens. space. good thing. close up shop. nap time. dinner, trapped. happy. glad to be. share a secret, just a moment. building tension, walking bass. blood like apricots. washing faces, locked in place, softer, weaker, seventh seal or those are only there to make you feel better. have you seen this bird? that’s… a… cocktail tastes like popcorn paste the sun sets orange misty dark and hazy lilac crescent moon and darkened windows leaning back like overground and lower stakes and higher spirits churches basements jazz piano. and, it’s the fortnight after one piece torn and red and yellow tearing. string lightly held between the teeth. but not that, eactly. just, “tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts”, snare drum rattling, cow bell. i mean, it’s the story, all these strands over and over. that’s how, is what i mean. yes, just like that with leaves and trees. just like that. each one is all the other ones.

rar, but did i remember to write it down? thank god for the morning. and all those little parts. red september, red october. and, like we always do. and, the cheese. plenty of times. i didn’t mean it to be that way, all one register. we’ll work on that. i mean that i will. i mean, not exactly. i wasn’t on the plane when the plane went in the sky. but thank god for in the morning.

and the notebook making station. and that little corner where the memories come from. and es, the whole thing has been for three quarters of a year. nearly a ear. i feel a tickle in my chest and i sneezed twice. i’m out of estrogen. i’ll be home later in the week. maybe my lungs are tired from cigarettes.

but especially… there’s something there in the space between.

sorry if there’s anything missing.

okay.

what’s the next part? when did i fly?

on friday.

what week was it? monday, tuesday, wednesday. oh i remember i went to ilana’s workshop with agnes and bea and mimi and felt so lucky to be with all these incredibly cool smart funny women, and these strange machines.

and, then me and agnes went to termite and i met sam spike. spittle of the moon, milk of the fig, and then home to where my phone and glasses would be.

on Thursday i held a little baby. thought of all the pain and joy in this little animal’s future and right now with just small feet and tiny claws and alarmed to be born. AND i dropped my laptop down a concrete staircase cutting home through the Barbie.

and then i got up, and got on a plane with mimi. and then there was berlin. and there is a lot of busy. and i’m in a terrible mood because i’m being misgendered and having a terrible skin day and also another thing with july. but i’ll get through this month.

and then me and simon legg went to watch my match and i near but lost my voice singing vindaloo surrounded by norweigens.

several other important and beautiful things happened but i’m late and too busy to write.

awright gal, love ya.