When the dirty man on the TV upstairs laughs, he sounds like the way my Dad sounds sometimes,and sometimes I know that the pigmen, who read the football commentary repeat the books I read, which leaves me trying to stifle my laughter sometimes, I even read the Koran, last night, adn it explained a few things to me...

I have been laying around in dirty clothes for days, in fact not so much laying around but I can't remember, I have already even put my coat in the washing machine becasue it stinks of smoke and pollution...

I have been told by the wind to give up this poison, the cigarettes...still the tourettes jumps around in everyone's brains, like I read a little snippet of rubbish iw rote on some paper, whilst a 'bully' boy is down there outside hounding me...and repeating what i read or even think...

'what he had all these women? I said kidnap them!...soemthing soemthing...

I can't phone the advertiser, (she has already spoekn to someone else, I am destined to never meet someone, and although I have met that someone, and something magic happened, I can not write to her witout feeling pathetic, and worried about the social worke finding this strange if I talk about her, and really it is all FUCKING SHIT)I nearly hate this world, my eyes keep going funny...

I lay around and listen to the wind, and remember today someone that makes me get up and clean the flat and begin a first sketch of an image i wake up with in my brain; Joyce Johnson,...like I should read her poems, and the wind replies, thank you, girl...something like that...and this image you see hasnt scanned very well, but i still have a vague memory of the actual image in mind, the thing is;

it's not an image, it is a ready made painting that comes through in my dream, perhaps it is my lungs, (hold off the smoking) or those round parts like a blast or snow...

my eyes keep going funny, becaue I get affected by everything, and actually, my eyesight is getting worse and worse, like, i can only see about 15 cm in front of me clearly

So, the wind; we talk or rathe i listen or rather, i completely ignre and cannot remember a single thing, in fact i had an awful day yesterday despite this, with the 'man in shop' whose sooooo fucking rude...'lalalal you and your gay friends.' mate, i ain't got any, and don't go making me cal you an Infidel, and aP....because that makes me hate myself.

And conversation, I'm lucky, despite all this because....

what?

to be continued....but I think everyone is dying....

I really want to write to her but don't know what to do...

coming out, again, and in again, like an endless cycle...

March 21st

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

my sister has said she is having a breakdown, in due pat to losing her baby, i find it hard to talk to her through being around my family, in fact, she keeps mentioning the BNP, how they knocked on her door the other day, how my Mum knows one from school, how;

their children are taking part in Holy Communion.

How, though she lives in a area of lots of Nigerian families, somehow they avoid them.

I walked to my cousins, the other day, he is mad, comes out with lots of sick sentences, and racism.

On the way there, I saw a woman walking her baby in a pram, she looked really fragile.

Further down the road, I met two african men, and said Hi, whilst twisting my headphone lead around my hands worriedly...'Are you ok?' one them asked, and the other one said ?:

'What, the white women are going mad????'

'Ye-ah.' I replied worriedly...

And kept walking, he looked worried, like; 'oh shit.'

You Already Know Hebrew

You Already Know Hebrew

said Mum, after I tell her of a dream I had (this is becoming a farce)...KOM KOM KOM, I say as I wander around the house this morning...

'How can I already know a complex language? Like I learnt it in a day.'

Events would be better, assurances would if I already knew the language.

My dream, it started off see-ing a Russian woman, (i think) I didn't want to watch it because I feel weird? guilty? worried, in a documentary about shootings, and so I went to sleep, but then couldn't because I could still hear her talking on the TV, and so, I tried to pray and saw an image in those moments of an actual man in the room, about to kneel down and pray...and then

The young woman talking on TV had her head covered, and she was really distressed, I had already walked into the room my Mum was sitting in watching, and she started shouting at me for some silly thing, and then this woman would talk to me almost, and I could feel her worry, I was trying to explain that my Mum is a bit too red, (if that makes any sense), and it was more of a conversation with her as I couldn't sleep for hearing it, and my eyes flashed white in the direction of the East...and I prayed that hopefully she would be strong, and carry on talking about what she needed to say rather than feel bad if she was feeling anything like that...(madness huh? I know I will never meet her, and this is the saddest part of things.

a feeling went acros both sides of my neck, and I could hear a voice talk, to me, outer...I knew it was Hebrew and the last word I could distinguish was

KOM

Now, look, I am merely what? In fact I do not know hardly a word of Hebrew and so...had to look it up on this 'trusty' computer...

BECOME: to appear or arise...

Nu, BECOME...I guess that's what I have to do without, breaking the fact that I am about to smoke more poison, and go to a regular appointment, where if I mention this fact I will be put away...

Can you just laugh at this, because>>>???? I will have to carry around a Hebrew speaker with me in the event this happens and get him/her to repeat each sentence in English slowly...

And the thing is:

Should I be scared??

And then I tell my Dad, while he is digging up the chopped down tree roots in the garden, and think about my clothes, how I've embroidered a pocket with different colours (not very well, almost took me a whole day, but keeps things off my mind) and Joseph and his coat...

'Yeah, I'm like a little Yosef, except a stupid one.'

22 March

when i was younger in college, i would often draw pictures of women dressed in robes, dancing, falling down,

I would draw eyes too, now perhaps this was a personal feeling, or something more.

In that where i felt in trouble, i prayed for help because i felt in so much trouble sitting there for nights in the dark, and stupidly stupidly being on cannabis and drew eyes, and wrote in my madness on a small piece of paper or perhaps a cigarette box...I would like to be (words were confused;)

a strong woman
a noble man

OK, I'll writeagain when I feel a little better, (it's that headache thing, I need a cottage to live, just been considering becoming a Nun, ahahahahaha, no no no no no...not a good idea)

become.

i got kidnapped by a social worker once, was having a weird week, took a bath thought about finally going to the job centre and getting a job, and he knocked on the door, with no explanation, i was too trusting ofthem andi was locked away, hence the snippet of sillywriting you will read about below...

*sigh

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

We are not dead...I wrote a poem last night, when I went to bed as early as possible, reading Paddington Bear, but I don't rate it...here it is anyway, 2 minutes drafting:

it seems terror is there, when you speak of hope
it shows hell is here, when our voices are broken
if the whole world revovled around our bed
every 'i love you' would be snatched between their teeth,

you told me you would be here tomorrow
i prepare for you by crying on the floor
the dog will wake me barking, hoping you will knock on the door,

each one has turned to jester
my life is dull, you say, eyes flash left though i'd need an eyepatch for every wrong act and word heard,
the telephone lines are crying,
you are waiting for me to get to the party
i asked if you could come back today...

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

The Meeting

apart from madness, and sitting in the 'Hall' for hours, as social worker went through forms, and threatening me with her 'largeness', I actually began to be polite around her, 'so how long have you been a social worker', blase,...'so, you went through school, college, university.'...smiles... 'I worked in a pyschiatric hospital before that.' 'then you must be tough.' cold, hands together but worried...

I told social worker about her, in a roundabout manner, but acccusingly implying that the 'Hall' will, well, fuck it up. I said that I had met someone outside the outpatients clinic. (I was sure she was hinting something about this before ('oh, and I've been talking to God') The town is, shall we say rather mad, perhaps I should mention the fact that social worker was informed by old bag in job centre that Madonna had made me a lesbian, luckily she seems to be able to ignore all this. She must be tough. (I had assumed she was a former Para for a while.)

'Are you married?' I asked her, no, she is not. I did not wish to press the conversation further.

So, the MEETING: AND THE AFTERMATH OF MEETING>

I'm outside throwing leftover bits of a horrible coleslaw (AGH no-one told me it had coleslaw in it) and pretend plastic bits of chicken sandwich on the little green full of huge trees outside the clinic and hall. I go back in, look at complaints brochure, think to myself i have nothing to complain about, an oldish woman asks me if I am someone, I remember this name as a young girl being murdered in this town a few years ago. No, I am not. I give up, and go outside to smoke a cigarette. I walk past her, as I see her, think she looks dressed well, and in no gay manner, rather normal as she paces up and down. And say:

'Do you have an appointment or do you work here?'

HAHAHAHAH shurrup.

She says she has an appointment, I stand there bored and not a bit nervous, in fact rather almost aggressively disinterested in my upcoming appointment.

She asks me if I have an appointment, yes, I say, but I am early, and I have just been sitting in the clinic waiting room eating my lunch. I pick my teeth.

'Excuse me, I've got coleslaw in my teeth.'

So, I sit down on the broken down wall, and somehow we manage to have a conversation. I feel a bit, I don't know the word, suddenly quiet, as she tells me she has anxiety and panic attacks and agoraphobia and I tell her I have paranoia and schizophrenia. I say I am worried that my she can sense my paranoia, (because I have been having a bad day, and things are affecting my brain). She says she is nervous about her appointment jumping around a little, I say quietly;

'Don't be nervous.'

I move a brick that has been cut out of the wall and shake it a little, she seems to think about that act. I tell her about my constipation, a sideeffect of the pill, she mentions she gets constipation too sometimes.

The sun is shining intensely over her hair and she stands up straight and still looking at me, actually staring at me. And I suppose I am staring back at her.

'What books are you reading at the moment?' I ask her...

She says she used read to read high brow now she likes light and frivilous. I say I can't read anything light and frivilous. Perhaps she is staring at me at a bit, I dunno, but she talks about how she would like to write a book, a book that she could write better than a lot of people, (I think very queitly, arrogant, but I'm like that too at times, and yes I also like to write poetry when I can bring myself too, but it is not very good.

I look down and say; 'oh'...

She tells me about her family that her Mum has lent her a book, I forget what it is called, that she had been a patient for FIVE years, and that this was one of a few appointments. When I mention that I sometimes sit around smoking cigarette ends, by rolling them up, that was what she had to do once when her brother was around and they went out somewhere. I thought all this was cute, I did not bother to mention my family. She had been looking at my legs, because at first (though I had baggyish jeans on and had noticed her clothes too) I could not get comfortable on the wall and ended up sitting in a crosslegged manner.

Some old groan men wander past, she moves to the wall, but far enough away from me, because I smell a little bit from not washing my clothes often enough. And then something else is mentioned, and she smiles a little because I am looking down a lot, and says:

'Mmm.'

Yum, and then! worried Doctor runs out and says I have an appointment now, and I wander off and leave her without even saying goodbye.

And then that night I think about our meeting and my heart is getting all full and stuff, and she appears but I'm unsure now...As I would like to make clear, a interthoughtfeelingconnected MENTAL soul making of love, well, just kissing. Shit.

So, I have told social worker, she says I cannot get information about people, I say I don't want to, I just want to send a note, and will anyone read it and remember this is just a way to make a new friend, I say without having to say it. She says I can do that, and they probably won't read it. Now, I have to bring myself to getting a life and sending the note. A postcard, 'what book to recommend' (I've written I can't read any books, merely because, they are all driving me mad) and a phone number.

This won't work

Just A Jack In Black, Baby Sunday, March 26, 2006

Sunday, March 26, 2006
Just A Jack In Black, Baby....Emergency Call

Saturday, yes I lay in bed all day, thinking, trying to write, but my words are terrible in that environment, the footballing congregation outside, the ears, the spies, yep...I hear most of what they are hollering, hearing, saying, shouting, screeching when my windows are open, they hear me, BUT they are dumb and fickle and hear what only they want to hear, (in fact I had another mental conversation with someone, like I'd given them their heart back? I felt terrible, look these people can hear me, fuck off! but not to her, heart? heart? ART she laughed! but I heard someone else outside shout a little boy, a young girl who told him to fuck off, because he said they were killing the Hebrew in him, I shouted out, YOU MEAN YOU'RE WITH GOD!!! AS A WARNING, and he seemed to feel terrible, but agreed, YES I'M WITH GOD!! he hollered, as an old football coach screeched at the players in a green alien grouch grooble shriek, I think this is the same boy, that I hear talking outside a lot, I think he lives in the towerblock, a real cool kid, but I could feel him worrying, and when that girl shouted at him or me, just as I was trying to relax after this conversation, and feeling my heart feel a little more (we are all electric according to a dispargement of a new age idea in the paper, to wiggle your ribs is to get blood flowing into your brain), as this girl shouted at him, IT CRACKED, after I had stopped talking to this woman, Goodnight, I said, and the neighbour (who seems to have lost her boyfriend, and has only one cassette of music that I hear her rewind, and play, but not enough, said you mean 'Goodbye.') and I felt like I was fading away and that girl will grow up to be something like what? a cow??? lol) and my words are not serious and I am almost numb, or, in Limbo...

Though, Saturday night, held nightmarish visions, I cut my wrist mentally, and was told from that little green windchime that twinkles, not to give up my blood, even the thought for me is a personal bleeding...

And the nightmarish visions, first in front of my closed eyelids, I saw shapes forming, as though I was, and of course was see-ing the inside of my retinas, and all the time, 'big bastard' goobles like a large green piece of plasma from the television upstairs...

the visions, 'things' eating human bones, other things I cannot recall, and all the time I lay in bed, still, arms by my side, going through this, neither feeling scared nor in a panic, just floating through it until the end...thinking I need to brush my teeth. AND, my left leg heats up, and my toes are pointing to the painting of doves I have on the wall, the left leg, MERCY right? I twist round into my pillow, and tug at my hair, grinding my 'bacterial' teeth, not so much grinding but clenching, almost threatening to pull my hair out, but knowing i will not, holding my chin with my two fingers and trying to let this all pass.

And at the end of all this, i see an image of a young man, with a neat black beard, standing in a darkened doorway, I see him only breifly, because I can not be sure who he is, though he looks kind, I feel wary from looking too long and get out of the bed I have been lying around in all day, and brush my teeth in the dark, he is wearing a silky golden robe, and a very high golden silky hat, I think first is he the deivl? a priest? perhaps they are called one and the same, I know he looks a little jewish, perhaps. PERHAPS

And then, i take half a pill, ignore all the television and float on the medication to sleep though at first I am scared of falling asleep.

And then today, I pick out randomly again, an excerpt from Romans, that says;

those with Jesus, will SEE HIM.


How do I feel, ? back to normality, a break from a horrible weekend of my own fault, a case of agoraphobia, and not waking up to, hhhmm, or mmm, earlier, I had just thought I should go to church, I had a bath in the dark, a frantic half, relax, half just wash, talking out loud that this was like beign in the army, advising myself, spat on some tissue and cleaned my boots, still the man upstairs and the 'big bastards' on TV, I get dressed in a white long skirt, think should I wear a black one, I am wearing just jeans and white now, but I did not go to church after all, I sat on the bed with an mp3 player and try to close off my mind. Then I read the newspaper, find in a small financial article a section that describes big shopping empires, in the subtext is something that fits into the fact that I should in fact be concentrating fully on writing this properly, not just scared words, childish ones in my diary, but a real story. The subtext, Miss pru comes out lokoing like the pretty girl of the town, but what is the deeper content? something like that....

did I forget to mention, after those visions a man knelt beside me in a field, waving his hands in the air, the two seagulls turned neon blue around their dark wings, and were directed by his hands and my mind into a whirlwind. And a mournful picture of a cow in a skullcap, looking down with a mournful eye...

I tripped out on my first cigarette of the day on Friday, sitting in my Dad's car while he wandered around trying to get my electricity key fixed, (no I can do that! it didn't work, the key that is, we got a little racist, i concluded that perhaps this woman was going mad, so there pigfaced myself, you know things like this happen in small towns, one mistake and it feels like a universal smalltown infection, I said to Dad it was probably that Himmler look, that he had also given me some time earlier that got the electricity key messed around with, paranoia, and nevermind how my family are...I've been in a series of needing to keep away from my family, because even my presence is an annoyance considering I have all these things to talk about, and my Dad is always running people around in his car, and la, Mum says she is getting rid of him some time next year, i do not wish to press this matter any further, becasue it is a silly defilement of the brain...(I mean she says that almost once a year or more, repetition, look It's either that or 'big bastard and goon' that actually sometimes makes me laugh, I don't get angry, or I will end up hurting someone physically, and I met a man that looked like a pyscho killer in the pub, as the landlady was locking the door, (there was actually a real murderer in this pub a few weeks ago, i only went there because freinds were going there, but it's dangerous for me, one of them has invited me to California, this is ridiculous considering we can't even hold a conversation with each other, and she does that sitting on me in the cubicle thing...blahblahblah) I walked away from him and said let me out, nevermind that I've cried quietly a few times this weekend...) listening to classical music, sure she was singing, hysteria, hysteria, sit on your posterior! but I ignored that because that's opera for you, and didn't want to look around at the grey sky and the same buildings I'm so used to, was in an apartment on a balcony, it was sunny, the buildings had a golden glow, and I tried to picture the view, meadows (perhaps purple?, laughed thought yeah, purple hills) and more buildings all glowing gold and summery...