Sunday, 19 February 2012


Missing Falmouth.
As usual.
Playlists lasting for days.
Songs reminding of minutes.

  • Trains and tracks
  • 4am
  • Dawn
  • Pots of crab and wooden forks
  • Quayside drinks
  • Sea swim
  • Rock jumps
  • Fishing fails
  • Wet car seats
  • Dripping hair
  • Goosebumps
  • Scavenged scallops
  • Sun kissed skin
  • Tequila sting
  • Farm house raves
  • Spinning poi
  • Roads that wind
  • Stranded by tides
  • Draughts through doorways
  • Firework fancies
  • Sticky basement floors
  • Wet denim
  • Holes in knees
  • Sand and toes
  • Freckle face
  • Cheese in Cider
  • Spontaneous parties

I'm not sure I can go on.
If i do, the overwhelming temptation to get in the car and drive becomes too strong.
I'm going back soon.

Fuck it.

I'm gone.

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Days with lovers.


Work has obvious downsides. Always. Where ever you work. Whatever the routine. The daily grind is named that for a reason. Sometimes you have to drag your feet.
Upsides are never really far behind.
You just have to look to your left and your right.
Up instead of down.
Should all else fail.
Peek over your shoulder.

Time spent in work takes away days. Whole days.
There are few hours in which I can see loves.
Mary. Steve. Chloe. Whitney. I have seen you mostly.

I'm not wasting the money I earn in my wasted time in an office.
I am eating out. Drinking out. Company enjoyed and plans fitting seamlessly together.

Yes valentines.
A day of either love or despair.
I cooked for two of whom I care. We sipped with unkissed lips. Our own little lonely hearts club.
I was by no means alone. And I never am.
Loneliness only ever comes when I remember other times of happiness. Intimacy and privacy.

The unloved are loved.

Chloe. Little munchkin.
It is bitter-sweet that I work so far from home. Maybe not even far. But it feels so.
A decent wage. Two hours plus of daily travel. Bitter.
Easy work. Near Chloƫ. Pretty little town. Sweet.

Lovely lunchin's.
Like we do.

The near future.
It will be busy.
And i will have my little treats.


I have been productive.
Creative for once.
No time.
Gives me time.


Making to music.
A lost pleasure.

More pretty things.
They fill my days.


Lana Del Rey's face is nice to draw.
Wavy hair and gleaming eyes.
Sketching sketching.

Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Eye. Telephone.

A few things have happened. A few insignificant things. Materialistic happenings.
I have a iPhone. You may have guessed. I have a new car. Dexter. The mini beast.
In a nutshell. My job may not be the most interesting in the world. It is however, giving me money.
My goodness. I am finding ways to spend it.
Tiring yes. I may complain. But ultimately my job is getting me up and out if the house everyday. Taking me away from the pretty things that I want to see. Making me more inclined to search them out.
There has been a dramatic increase in picture taking. Ease of the iPhone.

I am excited for my weekends. For future plans. For recent happenings. Pipe dreams and day wishes.
They look more likely.

Pictures make me motivated.
I will snap.
Bend the light to my lens.

Thursday, 2 February 2012


That's it. That's where i am. What I am doing.
I am sat in an office.
It's where I work.
The same company as my mother. The same office as her too.
I am a temp. From part time to full time. Only in one week.
The printer. The poster. The tea girl, sometimes.

It is easy work. Largely unfulfilling. Setting myself tiny and insignificant goals.
- Make ten manuals in one day.
I make training manuals. I print out 363 pages for each. The printer tattooing the poor dead trees.
Sat in this posture friendly chair. I am uninspired. And left with no time to become so.

5:45am - My first alarm sounds.
5:45am - I press snooze.
5:55am - Second alarm.
5:55am - Snooze once more.
6:05am - Crawl reluctantly from my warm bed. Into the freezing cold of my room I step.
6:06am - Space heater, full blast. Laptop, on.
6:07am - Bathroom. Shower. Teeth. Freshness through grogginess.
6:30am - Relaxed music. Makeup. Clothing selection. Black trousers. Smart top. Hair dried. Coat on.
7:10am - Shoes on. Out the door. Defrost Dexter.
7:15am - No later than this, or I get stuck, more so than I do already. Select music. Drive.
8:30am - Arrive at work. After tedious driving. Bad drivers. Roundabout queues. Nightmare.
8:35am - Flasher card. Access. Ecspresso. 2 or 3 sugars. Thankyou very much. Stir it please.
8:45am - Start manuals. Rondezvous with manager. Every day is the same thing.
11:00am - Stomach starts to grumble.
11:30am - Drink copious amounts of tea. Delay the lunch hour. Delay. Delay. Delay.
1:00pm - Lunch time. Walk into the town. Take pictures. Paninis. Sandwiches. Deli lust. Plume of smoke? Perhaps. Apreciate the sun.
2:00pm - Walk ever so slowly back to the office. A large clostrophobic space.
2:15pm - After delaying some more. Coffee. Tea. Chai. Manuals. Snap. Print. Snap. Compile.
5:00pm - Intend to leave. On the dot. Most of the time. There is ONE more thing to do.
5:20pm - Actually leave. Stubble bumble to the car. Frost in my nose. Sunsets looking pretty. Picture snap. A happy reminder, the sun does exist. Car heat. Full blast. Thawing feet and fingers and cheeks.
5:25pm - Drive. Repeat previous journey. In reverse.
6:30pm - Arrive home. Shoes off. Cracking knees, ankles and hips. Stomp up the stairs. Back to my freezing room.
7:00pm - Eat. Somthing. Anything. Warming? Cooling? I am not fussy. Feed the grumbling in my belly.
8:30pm - After meals. Short catchups with the father. My room has been warmed. Trusted space heater. Sparks. Music. Episodes. Uploads.
9:00pm - Intend to go to bed, within the next hour.
10:30pm - Make hot water bottle. Warm milk and honey. Or Chai. Check and close all social media.
10:45pm - Climb into bed. Feet burning. Hot water inside fluff. Snooze and sleep and sleep and dream

04:45am - Wake up exactly an hour before my alarm. Back to sleep in the cold.

This is my day. Monday to Friday. Not just 9 to 5. They never count the extras.
This is why, my friends, I cannot go out with you on the weekdays. The weekends have become precious. Even they feel wasted.
The office is only tiring, because I can feel my brain rotting. Lack of visual stimulation. My ears picking up gossips. People I do not know. I know about their little mischiefs.

7 months more.
A change would be much welcomed. Sooner rather than later.
A new place to live. What a lovely start that would be.

I miss the film in my camera . My pencils. My sketchbooks. My paints. Hell, I even miss my peircing saw.
More time. I need more time.

Time to see.
Time to do.