A few things to cover in this edition of Kat's non-working limbo livleyhood. First off I want to make a list of some favourite words. I love lists (they provide some sort of order in my otherwise chaotic mess of a life) so here's one:
Fantasist
Ostentatious
Ethereal
Kudos
Encrusted
Phenomenon
Torturous
Willowy
Scribble
Intensity
Distraught
Void
Lunacy
Illicit
Lust
Deface
Wow, got a little dark towards the end there didn't it? Appologies, I just like words that evoke emotion- whatever that emotion may be!
Now what next? Ah yes, the depressing words (Slightly fictional I should add), here are some 'rambles' I wrote when supposed to be working in a lil shoe shop in Southampton. I loved working there, but we all have bad days- and when you work alone with a total of five customers a day, it's easy to go a bit nuts...
Friday 26th April 2008, words from work. A bad day.
“Today needs to be over. There’s a pain lying in my head. A beast that’s making its home. Not even the finest pharmaceuticals can help- its been here ten days. I keep forgetting what I’m doing and where to put things- I forget why I’m here. Something isn’t right here. My thoughts keep confusing themselves, getting tangled- I think they’re even enjoying it?
My body can’t decide if it’s hot or cold. Every movement goes in slow motion. People watching is making me dizzier than usual. Colours are offending me. Their accents bother me. I’m losing the will to fight or question- a smile and a nod. That’s all they want anyway. I feel stoned but I’m not. I keep shuffling papers to prove I’m ok. I’m high on Anedin extra. Perhaps it’s the added caffeine? Is it the pain making me confused- or does it hurt because I’m confused? No, don’t contemplate things- it only angers the beast. Everything inside is falling to a darker shade of grey while my demeanour turns overtly sunny.
To do lists are piled up alongside empty pill packets- a visual representation of the past few days. Thank God for the music. Probing and poking around, trying to tease an emotion to remind me that yes- it is all real. Apparently this isn’t another superior nightmare. I can’t DO anything. I shudder to think how I’ll get home. I wish everyone else would go home. I need to collapse. But I’ll wait until they leave so as not to embarrass myself. Occasionally specks of static dance around my vision…that’s not right is it. To market to market. Fuck off all of you to market. Time’s moved unusually fast- what sort of day was it? Busy? Quiet? How was the footfall? I cannot recall. To market with me I thinks…”
Thursday 1st May 2008, more thoughts at work. Another bad day.
“Change the light bulb!
Try not to cry over it/him/they. Let’s be more than this. I’m too tired for work today. I want the ground to swallow me and cradle me in its pitch black warmth where I can rest and rejuvenate, ready to be reborn into a woman that doesn’t care.
Humiliation rises and falls to torment and remind me of my place. As if I could forget. Rejection from someone you don’t desire is the worst. No one wants your services this week. Tossed around. Flung to the ground like dirty socks. I can’t help but to be disgusted with the human race today. The words, the venom they spit at all hours- its exacerbating the pain in my head. The hurt those words can inflict. “To be blunt.” Yes, you were quite weren’t you. A blunted mallet swung into my chest. Honesty is bullshit. Give me kind lies any day. Sweet forgeries I can smile at with a pleasant naivety. But no, you declare blunted truth and flatten me against the wall. Well fuck you all very much.
How eloquently one can murder time by writing and lobbing thought spit all over this clean white sheet. What a treasure for the once bored.”
Good to know I made use of my time at that place aye?
Last but not least- (actually, proabably least), here's a quick bit I just wrote for a Nina Ricci competition, I had to write a fantasy...or something along those lines.
She tightens the ribbon on her chiffon dress and breathes deep before entering the blues bar. Wooden coated and vanilla scented it comforted her weary soul, as it did every night. She took her usual stance by the window, lit her cigarette and watched the first artist set up. One man and a guitar. Gravely voiced with heart-felt playing, she marvelled at how much emotion he evoked with such simple tools.
She watched breath-taken, subdued, and fantastically aware (as usual) of her nightly admirer. He wiped the dirty glass behind the bar and noticed the perfect way she moved her shoulders in time to the music, just like she did when she first walked in all those years ago.
He watched her, watching him and smiled at their silent but knowing love. One day they would speak, but for now actions were louder than any words longed to be.
Heavy entry no? I'll make the next one light, sunny and full of candy kisses I promise.
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