If I don’t take a break every now and then and talk to someone
that’s what he said
short stumpy nervously scraping
the scalp under his baseball cap at regular
tabloid rag rolled up into the breast
of his jacket like a spare limb a crutch a weapon
a page 3 tit
out at me like a winking blind
man with an infection
me fuckin social worker Rob - I call him nob-head like -
tried to teach me how to use a fucking
diary fucking gobshite fucking silver spoon
21 year old shitbag
21 fresh out of daddys wallet he can fuck off the cunt
I nod. he probably is a cunt.
and then doctor nob-head - he’s even fucking worse
you wanna talk about cunts - he was doctor cunt
that one right gobshite gave me a fucking notebook
to write down all me fucking fears and fanny-feelings in fuck off
doctor cunt - posh as anything he was - and a right nob-head
I tells him
IM NOT PUTTING NONE OF THAT FUCKING SHIT IN A BOOK FOR YOU TO HAVE A GOOD CHUCKLE
AT WHILST YOU’RE TAKIN A SHIT
I nod. Doctor cunt sounds like the type of person to do that.
He pulls his cap off.
A long deep canyon of a scar runs from his eyebrow to his scalp.
See this part of the ‘ead ‘ere love? He points at it. cold cold cold.
That’s where me brain popped there, love.
Oh, I say.
He’s whispering. The conversation feels illicit.
How did you pop your brain?
Don’t know. Doctor said it just happens. But see ‘ere, girl? He points
at it again. cold cold cold.
That’s the part of the brain that handles identity. Fucked, aint I?
I nod. I suppose he is.
Y’see girl, I’d like to write down me whole life story. I can tell yer what happened
when I was 4 and me mam left me in a trolley outside the supermarket, or when I was 8 and the nuns caned me hand so ‘ard that I bled all over me biro, but I couldn’t tell yer about me wedding day or where I went yesterdee mornin’, you understand.
I nod. I guess. I once got so drunk that I forgot an entire year.
Plus, I haven’t got the patience to write more than a page. Doctor cunt says thats a good thing. He says if I had more patience I’d probably want to do more and doing more might kill me huuhuuherrrr.
Fuck. Why don’t you write it as a haiku?
A haiku? Bloody hell love, I had a brain hemorrhage, not a cold.
I get back to work. Whatever that entails.
”—A Man I Met In The Art Gallery Where I Supposedly Work By Amy Roberts (Writer, Rocker and fellow comrade and twit!)
What i love about music, is that it’s not exclusive to any one person. You can share an experience with someone through music. To know that you’re listening to the exact piece of music as someone else can be liberating and intimate all at the same time.
25 Things what i sat and pulled of ma brain box...
I know only this;
1 . I hate it when people pause or turn down the telly to sit and have a conversation on the phone, despite the fact they weren’t even watching it and there are 23 other members of a captvated audience. Or to that end, YOU walk in just to talk over MY favorite programme.BAD.
2 . People making decisions about films after all of 3 seconds watching it. I know what i like and what i don’t like but i know to give things a chance and not to be an ignorant turd.
3 . I will be a pessamist. It’s more dramtic and lets face it, realistic.
4 . I wish i had an MP3 player constantly attatched to my ears for then i could turn the volume up on the drivel that erodes my brain and turn down for that which will enrich my knowledge of the universe.
5 . I will always be one of those women men just wont get. It pains me to write that more than it does for you to read it. Im complicated and sometimes my silence is not due to my impending menstrual agony or the fact that you did that thing you said you wouldn’t and think im mulling over the best way to sterilize you without getting blood on the sheets,no,the truth is sometimes i just wanna be quiet.
6 . I find something strangley alluring and perversly sexual about a man wearing eye liner.
7 . I put far too much faith and loyalty in my friends. It’s not beng needy its being the best i can be.
8 . I like to buy stuff i don’t need and am begining to realise this stuff does not make me feel better and will not lead me through the path of enlightenment or tell me what i am meant to do in this life.
9 . I have every issue of Glamour magazine from January 2007 till now… Oh I know whats important in life.
10 . Like a certain someone i know, i also like to lie to strangers and feel exhilerated afterwards. For example just last saturday night i told a taxi man that i was a medical student and had to get home early to tape something on the discovery chanel. When he asked what i said ’ eerrrr, its all about, like, genes and stuff.’ I believe a medical student would have been far more in depth and not said ”like” or ”stuff”.
11 . ’ I wanna die’ and ’ Kill me now’ are the two sentences i am likely to say more than any other in one week. Maybe ever.
12 . When i was 10 i wrapped up 5 chicken eggs from the egg basket and put them at the bottom of my bed to hatch. Only when my mother was cleaning and found them did she explain that these would not hatch and i wasn’t to read anymore of the Animal Farm books, including Giunipig in the garage and Charlottes Web. A blow for my green thumb.
13 . I think marriage leads to divorce. Get wed if you like solicitors.
14 . My favorite auto boigraphy is Jerry Silberman AKA Gene Wilder’s Kiss Me Like A Stranger. Probingly honest.
15 . I cry at Harry Potter films despite having the storyline branded into my brain. Harry is my childhood friend and first love.
16 . I will be leaving this place as soon as is humanly possible.
17 . I don’t get mad at anyone like i do my family. Its like an unwritten law that you can scream, shout and really hate the people closest to your bloodline.
18 . I love Disney films. ForEver.
19 . Home is my bed as long as i have that home can be anywhere.
20 . I got a tatoo for all the wrong reasons but like that it annoys my mother.
21 . I think about what my obituary will read.
22 . When everyone’s gone to work and me and the dog are having breakfast i talk to him and everytime i really hope he will talk back… not happened yet but there’s still hope.
23 . My 2nd toe is bigger than my supposed ‘big’ toe, on both feet.
24 . I hate to see that actors whom i covet have families and real lifes. Bursts my bubble.
25 . I talk about and analyse myself waaayy too much
In addition to a throbbing hangover and lack of sleep, I have The Fear.
The Fear, for those unaware is that evil feeling in the pit of our stomachs. Were not sure why it’s there, we can probably take a few wild guesses; money, love, future, all things in our control and yet the nagging ache in our gut screams at us to bury our heads under the duvet and not come out again, EVER.
I wait patiently for the day i can wake up and be content, but i hear that that is the day you die. If there’s no fear driving us to take back control then what is there to live for?
Ok so maybe this is merley my hangover and the prospect of a New Year talking but I am frightened. What if i fuck up my year and don’t progress into a human being? What if i don’t travel?Make new friends?Live?
Oh fuck it, pass me the duvet and turn the light out on your way. Thanks