saintadatha

since last we spoke i have:

handed in my notice at the bar;

failed to find a new job - probably through lack of looking;

painted half of my flat, including staining the bloody floorboards;

spent an entire day sanding the rather nice wooden floors that i was lucky enough to find lurking under the manky carpet;

pissed off my new landlord and neighbours (see above);

pissed off the girl that i keep pissing off (she really is never going to speak to me again, I suspect...);

seen both sin city and batman begins;

had a drink with someone and rainwolfkin in which we discussed the pros and cons of professional academia;

got told that that shitty/cute little community glossy have dedicated (ha!) three pages to my (mediocre) photos that i took for them;

discovered that i am more broke than i thought (so the above 120 will help tremendously);

realised that i don't have any real crushes at the moment... or a sex-life... which is forcing me (forcing me?!) to go through my phonebook in search of past acquaintances/conquests/failures/hot-friends/bed-pals;

begun to take deep breaths again.

**** **** **** ****

here are some old words that seem to (kinda) fit:

Why this feeling of what is right and what is not'?

Again and again.
Sometimes months will pass.
Sometimes I bury myself in the mundane world.
And then my head surfaces.
I remember to breathe.

But it is hard.
The mundane is oily.
It pools, and sticks,
And clings in films and fingers.
It is not fond of goodbye.

And yet goodbye.

The thrill of freedom grips:
In wax and wane, and wax, and wane.

The formality of this sickens me.

Fuck off.