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They fuck you up, your mum and dad August 24, 2006

Posted by Spiralskies in : A215 stuff, Journal, Writing Bits , add a comment

On the stage, standing still and looking straight ahead as we’d been told, we were ready to sing our first song, ‘Doing the Lambeth Walk’. In the hall of the small parish primary school, the parents were crammed in, sitting uncomfortably in tiny plastic chairs. They were all dressed up for the occasion, overcoats folded on their laps, proud dads giving a last-minute thumbs-up for luck while the mums chattered, their voices mingling. It was hot. All the different perfumes made the hall smell different to how it usually did. We were doing an Old Tyme Music Hall. Dressed as a Pearly Queen, covered in sequins with my lips and cheeks smeared with red Rimmel lipstick, I felt really excited. Not only was I playing a solo verse on the glockenspiel in ‘Little Donkey’ at the end but I had the lead role in ‘Albert and the Lion’. I was the smallest in the class, perfect to hide behind the lion after he’d ’swallered the little lad ‘ole! We had a new boy in the school from Lancashire who could read the poem in the proper accent. I was so excited, even though I had to wear a horrible flat cap that made my head itchy.

The lights were switched off and we launched into the first song. I couldn’t concentrate. I was still glancing as often as possible at the door at the end of the hall, opposite the huge artificial Christmas tree. The red lights gave just enough light to see that neither of my parents had come. (more…)

Adrift July 30, 2006

Posted by Spiralskies in : Writing Bits , 2comments

in my own world
misplaced in my own reality
No longer sure where I was heading
The place that I came from gone

Where do I go when directions are lost?
Where is my compass, my guiding light?

Here alone, wherever here is
no way of knowing if I’m moving at all

Paddling in circles,
serene surface ripples
that show
I’m still alive

Eyes closed
Ears not listening
not wanting to hear
the silence that exists between two nowheres

Plodding On July 15, 2006

Posted by Spiralskies in : A215 stuff, Bits and Pieces, Writing Bits , add a comment

countryside

gradually more hilly

obstinately uncraggy

A gentle descent

into Warm Springs

It sounded like such a nice place

to pass away

Melancholy July 7, 2006

Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , add a comment

Caroline dragged the heavy wool blanket further towards her chin, noticing the slight scratch of the material. What time was it? It was dark, despite the curtains being open. The sash cord had broken when she opened the window too enthusiastically a few weeks ago. Now it was stuck, half open, the wind having blown last Sunday’s newspaper into separate leaves all over the floor. The window rattled, irritating her. Caroline pushed the black hair away from her eyes and peered at the luminous green numbers on the video recorder. 2:07 am. Good. That meant it was still last night and not tomorrow yet; she could legitimately have another glass of wine. She sighed, noticing the Merlot stain on the arm of the saggy, cream chair.

The television was on in the kitchen. She liked leaving something on in every room. It didn’t make her feel less lonely, quite the opposite. It compounded her knowledge that there was life going on around her; she just didn’t want to be a part of it. The wine bottle was empty so she filled up the wine glass with whiskey. Back in the sitting room, she pressed the ‘play and repeat’ buttons on the CD player. Tom Waits. How many times had she listened to this CD? She rested the glass on top of the red wine stain, twisting the platinum wedding ring around on her finger. She supposed she should stop wearing it. It had become too loose anyway over the last few weeks. She hadn’t noticed losing weight. Wearing her pyjamas with an oversized fleece, she couldn’t remember when she had last got dressed. Ice Cream Man’ was far too cheery but lasted just a few minutes before it slid into a tinkling, simple tune that reminded her of her old jewellery box, the perfect but hard ballerina who turned without expression until the music stopped. (more…)

Drifting July 6, 2006

Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 2comments

I’m sitting here. Not doing anything else, particularly, just sitting. Just in that sort of mood when nothing makes me happy; in fact, nothing makes me anything. I walked the dog thinking it would lift me out of this drifting state; that I would be able to focus, think clearly about everything. But I can’t. So, I’m just sitting here, waiting for something to happen. Anything. The perfume of wild, wilting flowers mixes exotically with the tobacco smell of the strong coffee in the tired mug next to me. It’s so quiet, the distant hum of traffic reminding me of the world going on without me; the smell of a barbecue compounds this. I imagine the family I can’t see or hear, laughing, eating before the children are tired. But I am alone. I need a sign. I never see any fish in this river. If I see one now, I know that things will be ok - better than ok, perhaps. Are you supposed to be more positive about signs? I watch the fluorescent green weeds weave in the current, thriving despite their lack of oxygen, hearing the shallow water whisper over the stones. I’ve been reading these hippy books, how you can tell what’s going on in your life by recognising the ’signposts’ and quite like the idea - it’s more open to ambiguity than horoscopes at least. Easier to make what you see fit what you want to believe. I feel misplaced in my own world, waiting for outside forces to convey what I’m thinking, feeling, make it seem real to me.

The evening sun begins to disappear. The asthmatic sigh of a hot air balloon draws my attention to the floating Christmas bauble; a special treat for someone as I sit here alone, envying them. Is this my sign?