February 2, 2009

school's cancelled

+stuck at home in lovely warm London house with cat

-not seeing the girl one fancies in Brighton

+good wine, thanks pa

-why did we open the worst wine, and where the hell is the brandy?

+Johnny Cash

-Handel’s Messiah. I try, but I can’t get along with Baroque music. Haydn plz

+sledge

-going over a ridge on the sledge and hitting one’s face on the snow

+The Oxford Companion To English Literature, The New Oxford Book of English Verse, My Love Affair With The State of Maine

-Mansfield Park

I’d rather be here than not.

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January 28, 2009

This evening was spent in Stepney with italo disco, Roxy Music and Weather Report; serrano ham, olives and pitta bread; white wine and cups of tea; borrowing Shakespeare’s sonnets and reading Vice’s Do’s and Don’ts; twitter and girls.

Wonderful. Comfort and laughter x

The usual anxiety on making it in time for the train back to Brighton. Some nights, I think, it’s just money. It doesn’t really matter.

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January 23, 2009
tomorrow i am going to say sod the bank balance - there’s invoices to write next week anyway, aren’t there? healthy. - and go and spend too much money on secondhand records and a shoulder of lamb. i want to listen to sad songs. results of my ryan adams amazon binge have begun to arrive in the post.

tomorrow i am going to say sod the bank balance - there’s invoices to write next week anyway, aren’t there? healthy. - and go and spend too much money on secondhand records and a shoulder of lamb. i want to listen to sad songs.

results of my ryan adams amazon binge have begun to arrive in the post.

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so hard not to be wistful. -my life was 100 times better when we were in love.

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January 22, 2009
“ if you flatten the geography all you can join up is lines
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January 14, 2009
“ Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.
T.S. Eliot •

simple things i'd like in life.

i would be happy with friends to cook for; a girl to fall asleep next to and make tea for in the mornings; a record player.

1/3 in this town. one of three.

-one presumes this is what happens when one does not put the work in.

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January 13, 2009

the beautiful girl in the library today - top 10 in the world ever? possibly - was the best thing to happen to me since saturday.

i don’t see beautiful girls very often.

i wonder what the next good thing to happen will be.

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January 12, 2009
“do you know what I love the most?” -this is exit 2. I normally leave by the exit on the other side of the station, exit 7, the ramp going up to these dark blue reflective buildings and leading to grey grey buildings and the “last pub before the tube!”, the Indian restaurant that no one is ever in, the newsagent which never orders enough copies of the Evening Standard because it’s always sold out by about 5pm. When you leave through exit 2 you go past the fire station and there’s no pavement, just driveway, for about twenty metres. This is what I miss when I leave. The chicken shops and the Vietnamese restaurants and the Strongroom Bar and the off licence on Curtain Road and the Rivington Grill and Foxtons on the corner and the newspapers all over the pavements. The junction between Old Street itself and Great Eastern Street, three lanes splitting into two, cars careering up towards the roundabout from the A10 going far too fast. A10. A11. A406. A312. A1000. it’s not cool, this homesickness. When it reduces one to thinking about road numbers, it is merely sad. It saddens me so.

“do you know what I love the most?”

-this is exit 2. I normally leave by the exit on the other side of the station, exit 7, the ramp going up to these dark blue reflective buildings and leading to grey grey buildings and the “last pub before the tube!”, the Indian restaurant that no one is ever in, the newsagent which never orders enough copies of the Evening Standard because it’s always sold out by about 5pm. When you leave through exit 2 you go past the fire station and there’s no pavement, just driveway, for about twenty metres.

This is what I miss when I leave. The chicken shops and the Vietnamese restaurants and the Strongroom Bar and the off licence on Curtain Road and the Rivington Grill and Foxtons on the corner and the newspapers all over the pavements. The junction between Old Street itself and Great Eastern Street, three lanes splitting into two, cars careering up towards the roundabout from the A10 going far too fast.

A10. A11. A406. A312. A1000.

it’s not cool, this homesickness. When it reduces one to thinking about road numbers, it is merely sad. It saddens me so.

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the bookshop at Old Street station

the bookshop at Old Street station

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