bulimia nervosa - but with words.

I seemed to be in a particularly affable mood until today.

Chester is like a spider that silked me still, it's just I've been in trapped the wrong position. I can either let myself get eaten or try to wriggle free and find something else.

I was shouted at this afternoon by an unmitigating tyrant. He obviously felt the need to lay stress on a rigid adherence to the details of his forms and methods. Whatever.
Give a shit?

Actually, I dont know why I'm making this all flowery - he was a proper cunt.

I feel that, and PLEASE - correct me if I'm wrong, that I should be 'allowed' (and I stress that word because its so fucking ridiculous that I might not be) to speak to anyone I want to about WHATEVER I feel I need to, act the way I see fit, wear what I like, drink what I choose WHEREVER I choose and not, under any circumstances, be dictated to by someone who has NO concept of the real world because they take too many fucking hallucinogenics!! Fuck off please.

Its been an eventful week, although I don't really care to expatiate on it I had a sudden urge to write something down.

Doing this is like vomiting when youve been feeling sick all day. It's like a fullstop. New paragraph.

a palpable realisation

See yourself for what you are: an integral player in this grand spectacle.

Not really though, we're just here to make money, reproduce and die quietly.

Don't let anyone trick you into thinking otherwise.

Tried & Tested Ways to Escape Unremitting Self Pity

1. Wanking

2. Eating.

3. Reading.

4. Drinking

5. Talking things over with a blue cat.

What not to do:

1. Wait by the phone for your stalker to text you. Because when he doesn't you know that you are well and truly fucked.

mad as an actress

'In my experience there are many more good actresses around than there are good actors. Being mad in no way conflicts with or militates against good acting. Quite the reverse. The madness springs from the very way they approach their work' Stephen Fry - Mad as an Actress

Anyone who decides to be an actress must be mentally excited to say the least!

An inbuilt need to be recognised, respected, admired, different, stared at, made a spectacle of. The list is endless.

I am thinking of becoming a plumber...

the bus

People on the bus can't really deceive or dissimulate their loneliness because they can't speak.
Or maybe i just enjoy being a bit fanciful and imagining them all to be lonely middle-aged wasters with boken hearts and the highlight of their day is having a single tin of heinz speghetti hoops to go home to.

You get the odd pretty in every bus, its true, but i tend not to concentrate on them. They're boring. I like the wrinkly suit wearers who i like to imagine to be fucked off their heads because they've been up all night smoking ganja whilst their wives lie awake upstairs willing them to come to bed. And probably crying. Or the woman desperate to hide the crows feet creeping onto the side of her face covered with yves saint laurent foundation that clogs round edge of her dimpled nose who carries a small m&s evening bag (in the day) lined with black velvet thats probably not velvet...

But my absolute favourite is the fat man that wears soiled jogging pants and smells of vinegar. Everyone around him knows damn well that he's never really been for a run wearing those trousers. Or any other trousers for that matter.

In conclusion - i recommend taking a taxi.

love in the grave

Your new friends are always your favourite friends aren't they. They suppress all of their real emotions on the first couple of meetings and you can't ever imagine them annoying you or doing anything to hurt you. This, of course, is bollocks. Eventually you start to see to them for who they really are and you kick yourself for being such a bad judge of character. again.

I used to be really good at filtering out the bad apples. I've come across quite a few recently, people I've put time and effort into getting to know and its nearly always a waste of time.

I was talking to my 'friend' the other day about how easy it is to lie to someone that loves you. Even when you're with them they don't know that you aren't feeling what they are. And then I tried to think of all the times I had believed that the person I felt for felt too. She told me not to go there but I can't help it. I'm making a list in my head and it's growing all the time.

maintaining sangfroid

I hate this superficial layer that sits over everything in the summer with everyone pretending to be happy and in love just because the suns shining. Your higher self telling you to pull out those flip flops and that calf length denim skirt (please!) to prance down the high street like you're on the fucking beach. But you're not on the beach are you. You're in the dirty underground where the skins cells of the person infront fly off and stick to your sun cream. Utterly Vile. I long for October. Maintaining sangfroid on a hot day is too difficult.