askygoneonfire: Cartoon character lying terrified and awake in bed (insomnia)
Thanks to the unspeakable, inexplicable, wondrous generosity of [personal profile] forthwritten I have some paid time, I thought it was only right to celebrate with a post.

The other night, much like tonight really, I drank a heroic amount of vodka, and finished reading Albert Camus' The Fall. The book I finished a day before that was Martin Power's Nailed to History: the story of Manic Street Preachers. Being a massive CoR, I cried as much as I laughed at the story of the Valley boys and found myself obsessed/intrigued with Richey all over again. In that sense, The Fall couldn't have been a better 'next read' - the protagonist's words and Richey's lyrics are a marriage made in heaven/plagiarism made in hell.

The combination of the tail end of mania, vodka and Camus resulted in me being able to 'understand' some of the lyrics on The Holy Bible in what I felt was a new way. Before I passed out into a semi-paralytic sleep, I recorded my thoughts on Open Office on my phone. I record them below for 'posterity' (aka 'what the fuck?).

Much needed explanations can be found for some of this in '[]' brackets.

Dead eyed...fish? )

It's a lot like when I watched The Man Who Fell to Earth when I was drunk on rum to the point I couldn't remember my own name, but for the first time that film made sense.  Or when I go really stoned and understood 'Motown Junk' in a way no person ever had before and insisted everyone I knew listen to it *right now*.  A week of fucked up sleeping habits and a night of heavy drinking with a bit of mania thrown in for good measure makes for some entertaining reading.

I hope to contribute something intelligent to Dreamwidth in the next two weeks. although don't hold your breath as I'm currently reading 1984 and the last 249839 times I read that it gave me paranoia-based nightmares....
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
So the other night I was having a normal dream, eating moondust, dancing with a charming polar bear, walking from my bedroom onto the surface of a quaint planet of cheese, the usual stuff. Suddenly my friend turns to me and says 'hey! Have you seen my new iPad?' I shrug and go over, not wanting to be impolite. "I hear they aren't very good" I say. Almost immediately I am overwhelmed by how much I like using it. "what a great invention this is!"I exclaim "I know!" says the friend. "And they aren't too expensive"

The following night I dreamt about hula hoops. They were tasty. So the next day when I was looking for an afternoon snack guess what I bought?

So, er, dream product placement. When did that happen?
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (conor)
You could be happy and I won't know...

Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur...

For the tiniest moment it's all not true
Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do.

 
It's funny really, the way songs can make everything come rushing at you. I've written about this before, I know. And tomorrow I am starting another NaBloPoMo which this month means I'll be writing to prompts, so you can at least be assured I'm unlikely to write about it again, but I wanted to do a bit of a free writing blog post, working from an audio prompt*. So here we go...

And miles from where you are
I lay down in the cold ground
and I pray that something picks me up.

That's where I arrive, after that first lyric. Pick me, oh god please let something come and pick me up and return me to that place. Make the line "you could be happy and I won't know" a lie, make it something I create not respond to.

Increasingly though it's not her arms I want to be delivered back to - just someone. I miss that intimacy. Indeed I miss it so much I had a very confusing evening with my ex on Saturday where we fell back into a coupley-intimacy we rarely shared when we were actually going out. But then copious amounts of wine spritzers (yes, really. And no, I've never drunk one before) will do that for you.

In my dreams I keep saying "I love you" and then turning around to find out who I have said it to. Not once has it been Ali. Friends, family, acquaintances, strangers. But not once has it been her.

All of this is probably particularly confusing because the last week has been spent in a manic haze. The end of this period of nervous activity was bookmarked in the usual manner - I slept for an inordinate amount of time. Saturday night I went to bed at 1am, slept until 3pm, got up for 2 hours, napped for an hour and a half and then went to bed at 11pm - bringing the grand total of hours I was awake on Sunday to 6 and a half. An unremarkable 11 waking hours continues the trend today.

with a name I've never chosen
I can make my first steps as a child of 25....
just because I'm sorry
doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it at the tim
e

It's coming to that - I'm none of the things I wanted to be - would have chosen to be, but it's time to try and dismiss that nagging feeling of being some how displaced from my own life and attempt to forge ahead with what I have. I have contradictory feelings of regret (I regret I regret things I regret I regret anything, I regret nothing...)but there simply isn't time to sort through them. Somehow I need to just step out of the place I have been in for the last year and a half.

I realised the other day that I really do want to stay in Brighton and the move back to the East Mids if I don't get a job by September is a second choice, not a first one. But part of taking this step as who I am not who I want to be is going to be sucking it up and doing that if that is what is required to move closer to some of my longer term ambitions.

I've waited here my whole damn life
And I've forgotten what I wanted
Maybe I can do it
If I put my back into it

I am so saturated in regrets these days that I find it near impossible to look forward. But increasingly I am recognising that is what is holding me back. Or at least, I think it is a big component.

I've got one thing coming up next month - the ArtFor Pride exhibition - and I really want that to go well. I've got one painting sketched out to do on Wednesday and I'm hoping to get a couple of others done in the next few days as I have some holiday from work and apparently the weather is going to be shit so holing up in my attic room and getting on with it is a really appealing prospect.

It's the longer term which it remains difficult to envision. I need to let go of how things ended with Ali - no amount of self flagellation, soul searching or in depth analysis of the dynamics of our relationship is going to provide me the answers I was once convinced I would eventually find.

In slow motion the blast is beautiful

I think my Romantic inclinations are at least partly responsible for turning what was, in the end, a disastrous relationship, into something tragically beautiful. I rewrite my own history as some sort of tortured artist who creates the apotheosis of her academic career as the defining, life-giving relationship crumbles unacknowledged around her ears. Falling into a pit of alcoholism and despair in the face of a betrayal she rewrites as a refutation of everything good and pure in the world.

Except it wasn't that.  It was mundane, and yes, hurtful and distressing, but mundane.  Why is it that I can only understand my own history by writing it down and translating it into something more than the sum of its parts?  I need to learn how to make my life and my actions worth more because of their objective value rather than because of the value I can impress upon them through the smokescreen of forcing them into a neat narrative.


* Snow Patrol's Final Straw and Eyes Open.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (conor)
Determined. To find the place in the world that rightfully belonged to me. Carve it into my shape.
Believed that love was special and unique but could be found in more than one place.
That love was beautiful because it hurt and was messy and ugly.
Young. Conscious of and reveling in my youth.
Believed in the inherent goodness of people and my ability to see people for who they were.
Fearless... Of the big things. Terrified of the minutae of life.
With a sense of belonging. Alienated at times, but always surrounded and integrated with the world; my friends, my family close by.
Glorious in sleep. Painfully productive and invigorated by insomnia.

I left little pauses, so you could repeat after me.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
Prompted by a recent post by someone on my livejournal friendslist I have decided I want to write a post which could most accurately be categorised as autobiography. I intend this to be an overview of one aspect of my life this past year. I'm hoping it bookends things for me just by forcing it into a narrative form. I need it to be public, which is why I'm posting it, but I am also aware it has limited appeal, which is why it's below a cut.

Read more... )
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (conor)
...when I have thoughts like these I wait until they form a coherent whole and I then post the considered, occasionally articulate, contemplation. Tonight, however, I just want to get it out.

Right now I am fearful of an unspecified *something* that looms at the back of my mind. It seems to whisper that my anticipation of what next week will bring is misplaced. That the unformed hopes I have will never achieve a clear shape. It will be unconsummated optimism.

And the fear, the dark cloud whispers, is not of a tangible thing but it is instinctive and well placed. You know what you fear and you should. Because tinsel and champagne will never eradicate the cause. Nothing you await with baited breath ever has or ever will.

You see now why I don't post this? I understand my expression perfectly, it is as solid and exhaustively descriptive as it is possible to be about the solid reality of the emotion which doesn't let me sleep.
askygoneonfire: scribbled 'fuck you richey' over the concentric circles of hell (fuck you richey)
I had a nightmare last night.  Except it wasn't a nightmare in the normal way.

I dreamt I was at my parent house, except it wasn't their house.  It was the house I was living in with Ali and her girlfriend.  They had [what is in reality] my room and I was in the smaller room next door.  Ali was at work, the girlfriend was in the shower but the door to their room was ajar, so I ran in and grabbed the handwritten letter from Ali which was resting on the pillow on the bed.  I hid it inside my pillow case and went downstairs - I didn't want them to know I had stolen it.  In the dream I knew reading the letter would be a bad idea because it would just make me angry/sad that she was saying the things she used to say to me to the girlfriend.

In that non-linear way dreams have, I was next, and quite logically, in the room with the girlfriend and she was sitting quite calmly as I was ripping out chunks of her hair.  I was calling her all the names under the sun and telling her how ugly her hair was and that was why I was pulling it out.  No matter what I did she didn't appear to have any pain and she didn't get angry.  Her failure to respond just prompted me to get angrier and angrier; ripping larger and larger chunks out of her hair.  Ali walked in and looked casually at me.  She took in the scene, shrugged and carried on with what she was doing.  

The anger, the hurt, the pure unadulterated rage, my own impotence to alter what was around me despite phenomenal attempts to elicit change and/or a response; that' s what made this a nightmare and woke me up in fear and upset.

What caused this nightmare? A text message;
"Hi lizzie, sorry to disturb you.  Just wanted to let you know I have *finally* had a letter from the deposit scheme to say all sorted and clear....I hope you're ok. Ali"
 
 
And what was my first response to this text message? Recollection of another text she sent me back in September;
" I am due 2 move + when i do will giv u bit more from deposit "
 
 
This 'bit more' is also known as the money she owes me.

Profile

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
a sky gone on fire

June 2017

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
2526 27282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios