Like most of London's inhabitants, I went to the park yesterday. Vicky Park, with my cousin C. We have reconnected a lot since I came back to London. Her eldest daughter is the same age as my little sister. C is a year and a half older than me. It was a really nice afternoon- drinking rose in the park, being introduced to a friend of C's, catching up and being reassured it isn't only me who has lost the patience and time to handle grandad. My cousin J turned up just before I left to collect Bee.
In the evening Sis and I were meant to go and see Two Roses for Richard the Third at the Roundhouse. It didn't happen due to a long and complicated process involving tickets and Tubes. So we took an unbelievably convoluted route on a bus round what felt like all the houses, to meet with Alaron (who are two people- also referred to as Darlana) in London Fields. It was a lovely evening. Alaron had got me a Congratulations card three large Moleskines for starting university and I felt really touched and, for the first time, properly excited about studying. I have good friends.
Sis and I bussed together, I got off at Gran's and drank some more with my uncle. We had a pretty good chat. I have been warned (again) about my love affair with alcohol.
I dreamt my Gran's cat was running a bouncer operation at the cat-flap, some kind of feline night-club in the kitchen.
And that I was being chased and chased and chased across a field, all because I smiled.
Showing posts with label Leyton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leyton. Show all posts
Thursday, 24 May 2012
Monday, 21 May 2012
The Month of Mary (Saturday Thoughts)
( I haven't had/made time to update as I go, you see. These are being copied from scratched notebook entries; I wrote this at work in my head)
This time of year always makes me feel lonely. I've searched for another word because "lonely" doesn't seem to make sense. But it is the only word that describes the feeling. It seems almost onomatapoeic; the feeling is one that rolls of the tongue, stretches and curls around a pout in the middle. Rhymes with "meeee."
This year, I got through April without once quoting T.S. eliot (April is the cruellest month...) I waited for the low and when it didn't hit, I was glad. It still hasn't come. But today I caught the scent of blossoms and just for a second the loneliness opened up like a cut.
It's weird to feel so hurt by spring, like SAD in reverse. Aprils and Mays- 2007: my Grandad died; 2008: I stumbled home alone from the Infirmary wearing somebody else's clothes; 2009: my thoughts crashed on an Amsterdam Metro; 2010: the joy of graduation and the trouble that surrounded it.
And last year. God. I was scribbling in an old notebook on Friday afternoon and came across this: "I can't eat. I'm not even hungry. I don't want to eat. If N wants to fuck a model, she can have a titless ribcage and a hanger for unfilled clothing. She can have a hollow tummy and narrow hips. She can watch the arse she says she loves so much flatten to nothing and I just don't care [...]" I think that was May/June, or it feels like it was.
So, this year, it is amazing to be OK. No drama, no tantrums, no fists or blades or attempts to end the year here. Just the loneliness, every now and then, surprisingly intense as it snags my heart mid-beat.
This time of year always makes me feel lonely. I've searched for another word because "lonely" doesn't seem to make sense. But it is the only word that describes the feeling. It seems almost onomatapoeic; the feeling is one that rolls of the tongue, stretches and curls around a pout in the middle. Rhymes with "meeee."
This year, I got through April without once quoting T.S. eliot (April is the cruellest month...) I waited for the low and when it didn't hit, I was glad. It still hasn't come. But today I caught the scent of blossoms and just for a second the loneliness opened up like a cut.
It's weird to feel so hurt by spring, like SAD in reverse. Aprils and Mays- 2007: my Grandad died; 2008: I stumbled home alone from the Infirmary wearing somebody else's clothes; 2009: my thoughts crashed on an Amsterdam Metro; 2010: the joy of graduation and the trouble that surrounded it.
And last year. God. I was scribbling in an old notebook on Friday afternoon and came across this: "I can't eat. I'm not even hungry. I don't want to eat. If N wants to fuck a model, she can have a titless ribcage and a hanger for unfilled clothing. She can have a hollow tummy and narrow hips. She can watch the arse she says she loves so much flatten to nothing and I just don't care [...]" I think that was May/June, or it feels like it was.
So, this year, it is amazing to be OK. No drama, no tantrums, no fists or blades or attempts to end the year here. Just the loneliness, every now and then, surprisingly intense as it snags my heart mid-beat.
Thursday, 10 May 2012
City Girl
In Leyton, we are very lucky, in that we have a lot of access to greenery. Epping Forest; the Marshes; not too far from Victoria Park. People consider London a grey and soulless place, or at least a polluted one. It is grey and it is polluted but the grey is interspersed with green. The natural spaces are generally controlled, fenced in, organised. I know that probably isn't the ideal- but at least they are there. And again, in Leyton we are lucky: the forest and the marshes are wide open, still semi-wild spaces. Running across them, you can forget you are in a city.
I remember when I was younger. I loved going to Marshes but it was tinged with nervousness. The Marshes contained three things I feared irrationally.
1) Dogs. I have always hated them. No big deal- standard phobia.
2) Pylons. Their straight arms. Their pin heads. The electricity buzzing away. Their unnecessarily wide legs, their cabled ties to each other and the yucky sensation that they move when you are not looking. I used to call it "The Mystery of the Walking Pylon" in my Famous Five days, when everything was an adventure.
3) The utter conviction I had that one day, I would fall into quicksand. Similarly, I always knew I would be struck by lightning. I always felt as if I had escaped death narrowly- even if no lightning had struck, even though lightning here is almost invariably sheet, not streak. Even though, as far as I was and am aware, Leyton is not exactly a hotbed of quicksand. American cartoons, hey. I blame The Adams Family.
4) Trees. Their judgmental downward glances and unnaturally thin bodies, or stretchy gnarled arms. Looming. Making me feel funny.
I was a strange kid, I suppose. Considering I lived on the 20th floor of a tower block, you wouldn't think the height of trees and pylons would have bothered me. But they did.
But I loved:
1) The space
2) The goalpoasts
3) The (non-quick-)sandpit with its longjump marker
4) All the water. The dirty River Lea and its trickly swampy streams.
5) Sunset. Sunset reaching really low over the flat land. It made me feel story-book and warm-chested. I always wanted to stay until it started to fall.
More pros than cons, then.
Same for today. I ran across the Marshes: Hackney, Leyton, Walthamstow. I was avoiding a woman with dogs, so I got a bit lost. And suddenly I felt as if I had stumbled into one of my nightmares. I breathed in and breathed out but I struggled to. I had the sickening feeling of being closed in on by things I couldn't understand, or control. Example: if a person wants to hurt you, you can understand what is happening. They can speak. You know the laws of gravity and time and impact still apply, so you have a chance. But if trees and pylons attack? That throws everything you know out of sync, doesn't it? Who knows- time could suspend, quicksand could open under the concrete path, you could be swallowed into the air and nobody would know you hadn't just run away. And you would never be able to warn anybody of the grave dangers of trees and quicksand and pylons!
I suppose I'm still just a strange kid with an imagination bigger than my body. But at least I can laugh about it after.
The truth is, seeing grass and trees for miles and only the hint of a road makes me edgy. When in green surroundings I like to be able to see the exit at all times.
I remember when I was younger. I loved going to Marshes but it was tinged with nervousness. The Marshes contained three things I feared irrationally.
1) Dogs. I have always hated them. No big deal- standard phobia.
2) Pylons. Their straight arms. Their pin heads. The electricity buzzing away. Their unnecessarily wide legs, their cabled ties to each other and the yucky sensation that they move when you are not looking. I used to call it "The Mystery of the Walking Pylon" in my Famous Five days, when everything was an adventure.
3) The utter conviction I had that one day, I would fall into quicksand. Similarly, I always knew I would be struck by lightning. I always felt as if I had escaped death narrowly- even if no lightning had struck, even though lightning here is almost invariably sheet, not streak. Even though, as far as I was and am aware, Leyton is not exactly a hotbed of quicksand. American cartoons, hey. I blame The Adams Family.
4) Trees. Their judgmental downward glances and unnaturally thin bodies, or stretchy gnarled arms. Looming. Making me feel funny.
I was a strange kid, I suppose. Considering I lived on the 20th floor of a tower block, you wouldn't think the height of trees and pylons would have bothered me. But they did.
But I loved:
1) The space
2) The goalpoasts
3) The (non-quick-)sandpit with its longjump marker
4) All the water. The dirty River Lea and its trickly swampy streams.
5) Sunset. Sunset reaching really low over the flat land. It made me feel story-book and warm-chested. I always wanted to stay until it started to fall.
More pros than cons, then.
Same for today. I ran across the Marshes: Hackney, Leyton, Walthamstow. I was avoiding a woman with dogs, so I got a bit lost. And suddenly I felt as if I had stumbled into one of my nightmares. I breathed in and breathed out but I struggled to. I had the sickening feeling of being closed in on by things I couldn't understand, or control. Example: if a person wants to hurt you, you can understand what is happening. They can speak. You know the laws of gravity and time and impact still apply, so you have a chance. But if trees and pylons attack? That throws everything you know out of sync, doesn't it? Who knows- time could suspend, quicksand could open under the concrete path, you could be swallowed into the air and nobody would know you hadn't just run away. And you would never be able to warn anybody of the grave dangers of trees and quicksand and pylons!
I suppose I'm still just a strange kid with an imagination bigger than my body. But at least I can laugh about it after.
The truth is, seeing grass and trees for miles and only the hint of a road makes me edgy. When in green surroundings I like to be able to see the exit at all times.
Monday, 30 April 2012
1) I have a scholarship interview at Kent!!
2) Today I went running. I woke up really late and decided the only way to balance out the negative vibe was to run. And it was sunny. So I dragged my feet along to Hackney Marshes, picked up the pace along the canals, got a bit lost, turned back, did a little turn in Vicky park and came home to my Gran's. Sometimes the shower after the run is the best part; washing all the thoughts off and starting the day again. Haven't eaten, though- not in a diety way or a feeling-sad way. I'm just not all that hungry lately.
The run wasn't too hard. 12/13 K (8 miles?) People were out and about looking smiley in the sun. Cyclists and runners can be a bit of a vampire-and-werewolves situation but today even they were fairly considerate. My fear of dogs was less of a hinderance than usual, although I did cut out bits because I was scared of having my neck gnawed viciously into. Yes, it's irrational... but a lot of people are scared of spiders, aren't they?
I thought about Her along Orient Way. And realised part of it is that at least half the relationship was more unhappy than happy. So now that I'm not burning up with love and heartbreak, there's a dim sense of failure that only sharpens when we talk about our very separate lives. Which is why we don't speak often and why we shouldn't speak often. I cling to the remnants of the pain because they prove I am capable of long-term feelings (even if they are regret, pain and longing.) But... I' m stopping it now. Like the cutting, like the starving, like the endless check-ups on her Facebook page.I want her to be happy but I want to be happy as well.
In Vicky Park I thought about JW's theory that all the cool people should live in one place and decided that this is the case. But also, that having good friends is a good think wherever they are. Mousekiller and September are getting married soon; I want to be there. Weird how the relationships people formed in Amsteram all that time ago are mostly still going, after all that time Maybe I should have found myself a girl there (maybe my attempts are a whole other story)
And on the way home my thoughts came full circle and I wondered what it will take to be very happy. Concluded that I am mostly doing the right things and the right things don't hurt so much anymore. Though already I was burning for a drink. And I thought about this constant question of what to "do with my life" and came up short but luckily I had hit the turning into my Gran's street and I was saved from answering until next time.
God I love London.
Please excuse any horrendous typos- this is potentially the slowest cmputer I have encountered since my brief usuccessful foray into the hi-tech world of laptops.
2) Today I went running. I woke up really late and decided the only way to balance out the negative vibe was to run. And it was sunny. So I dragged my feet along to Hackney Marshes, picked up the pace along the canals, got a bit lost, turned back, did a little turn in Vicky park and came home to my Gran's. Sometimes the shower after the run is the best part; washing all the thoughts off and starting the day again. Haven't eaten, though- not in a diety way or a feeling-sad way. I'm just not all that hungry lately.
The run wasn't too hard. 12/13 K (8 miles?) People were out and about looking smiley in the sun. Cyclists and runners can be a bit of a vampire-and-werewolves situation but today even they were fairly considerate. My fear of dogs was less of a hinderance than usual, although I did cut out bits because I was scared of having my neck gnawed viciously into. Yes, it's irrational... but a lot of people are scared of spiders, aren't they?
I thought about Her along Orient Way. And realised part of it is that at least half the relationship was more unhappy than happy. So now that I'm not burning up with love and heartbreak, there's a dim sense of failure that only sharpens when we talk about our very separate lives. Which is why we don't speak often and why we shouldn't speak often. I cling to the remnants of the pain because they prove I am capable of long-term feelings (even if they are regret, pain and longing.) But... I' m stopping it now. Like the cutting, like the starving, like the endless check-ups on her Facebook page.I want her to be happy but I want to be happy as well.
In Vicky Park I thought about JW's theory that all the cool people should live in one place and decided that this is the case. But also, that having good friends is a good think wherever they are. Mousekiller and September are getting married soon; I want to be there. Weird how the relationships people formed in Amsteram all that time ago are mostly still going, after all that time Maybe I should have found myself a girl there (maybe my attempts are a whole other story)
And on the way home my thoughts came full circle and I wondered what it will take to be very happy. Concluded that I am mostly doing the right things and the right things don't hurt so much anymore. Though already I was burning for a drink. And I thought about this constant question of what to "do with my life" and came up short but luckily I had hit the turning into my Gran's street and I was saved from answering until next time.
God I love London.
Please excuse any horrendous typos- this is potentially the slowest cmputer I have encountered since my brief usuccessful foray into the hi-tech world of laptops.
Friday, 27 April 2012
Owl
I met with H and S at The Oxford in Kentish Town before the Ambit magazine launch. We caught up over pints and then headed over to the bookshop. Once we had sat down I remembered it was where one of my favourite teachers launched her first novel. There were poets reading, both of them were good. The first was a neat greyish-white-haired man who had a Welsh accent (although, I always think people are Welsh and it is quite possible that I am wrong). He had one poem about political non-shoe wearing in Ethopia that made me laugh. And think. http://www.chrisbeckettpoems.com/chrisbeckett/page2505
The second was a woman with a lullaby voice. There were some lines from one of her poems that I wanted to remember better but I can't. *Brainwave*- oh how I love Google:
Were you a bird I’d eat the skin, bone, feathers of you.
Though I would save one bone, one feather,
not as a keepsake for that would be within me,
– having gorged your strength, your gentleness –
but to make a mark on clay or cuneiform, papyrus
or paper, use your bone to press keys, your iridescent
feather for a quill to form letters in the old way.
- Ruth O'Callaghan, While Waiting For Bad News
Afterwards, we received a glass of complimentary red wine and bought books. I am trying to save the local libraries by quelling my book-buying compulsion but The Owl is an independent and truly lovely bookshop, so it wasn't so much a purchase as a moral action. H, S and I went to Pizza Express and continued chatting over dinner and more wine. It was so nice to catch up. We also devised a theory of broke-ness, whereby if you don't smoke or drive, you can consider yourself better off than your alternative self who does both. It makes you feel full-pocketed when you think about it like that. S is moving with T (her boyfriend) to Willesden in two weeks, so she will be closer-by. It's nice- I always love London more when there is somebody to convince. I have promised the sights of Epping Forest, the Hornbeam and Walthamstow Village.
It's odd; sometimes I have a strange perspective shift and I look at myself and other people as if I didn't know any of us. I am the small, dark one with the common name (H and S both have unusual ones). I am the unemployed one with the half-realistic ambitions. H and S have long-term partners and "proper" jobs and realistic goals and very nice skin. So when the perspective shifts I feel as if I've been walking backwards since we all met. For a few moments I feel disorientated... not jealous and not even sad, I don't think. Just a bit bemused, like when you miss the Tube but your friend gets on and you blink in shock as they pull away... you know you'll probably meet them on the platform at the next station but it's still a weird feeling.
Keep building skywards.
I cannot wait to meet my tiny cousin. It feels odd now, calling her "she" instead of "he-or-she." Before she was born we all called her Bambino, so now I guess it's Bambina, until she has a name. I'm so excited. I can feel the bit of me her tiny head will rest on :-) I already love her very much.
My cousin C was on c5 news yesterday talking about contraception. Proud of the family all round at the moment.
Mum, Dad and Bee (little sis) are back today. It's been kind of nice just me and Bro in the house but it will be so lovely to have them back, too. I can't wait to hear Bee's tales about Spain.
This week (starting today) I must:
The second was a woman with a lullaby voice. There were some lines from one of her poems that I wanted to remember better but I can't. *Brainwave*- oh how I love Google:
Were you a bird I’d eat the skin, bone, feathers of you.
Though I would save one bone, one feather,
not as a keepsake for that would be within me,
– having gorged your strength, your gentleness –
but to make a mark on clay or cuneiform, papyrus
or paper, use your bone to press keys, your iridescent
feather for a quill to form letters in the old way.
- Ruth O'Callaghan, While Waiting For Bad News
Afterwards, we received a glass of complimentary red wine and bought books. I am trying to save the local libraries by quelling my book-buying compulsion but The Owl is an independent and truly lovely bookshop, so it wasn't so much a purchase as a moral action. H, S and I went to Pizza Express and continued chatting over dinner and more wine. It was so nice to catch up. We also devised a theory of broke-ness, whereby if you don't smoke or drive, you can consider yourself better off than your alternative self who does both. It makes you feel full-pocketed when you think about it like that. S is moving with T (her boyfriend) to Willesden in two weeks, so she will be closer-by. It's nice- I always love London more when there is somebody to convince. I have promised the sights of Epping Forest, the Hornbeam and Walthamstow Village.
It's odd; sometimes I have a strange perspective shift and I look at myself and other people as if I didn't know any of us. I am the small, dark one with the common name (H and S both have unusual ones). I am the unemployed one with the half-realistic ambitions. H and S have long-term partners and "proper" jobs and realistic goals and very nice skin. So when the perspective shifts I feel as if I've been walking backwards since we all met. For a few moments I feel disorientated... not jealous and not even sad, I don't think. Just a bit bemused, like when you miss the Tube but your friend gets on and you blink in shock as they pull away... you know you'll probably meet them on the platform at the next station but it's still a weird feeling.
Keep building skywards.
I cannot wait to meet my tiny cousin. It feels odd now, calling her "she" instead of "he-or-she." Before she was born we all called her Bambino, so now I guess it's Bambina, until she has a name. I'm so excited. I can feel the bit of me her tiny head will rest on :-) I already love her very much.
My cousin C was on c5 news yesterday talking about contraception. Proud of the family all round at the moment.
Mum, Dad and Bee (little sis) are back today. It's been kind of nice just me and Bro in the house but it will be so lovely to have them back, too. I can't wait to hear Bee's tales about Spain.
This week (starting today) I must:
- Meet my cousin.
- Stop listening to KH "Dear" so obsessively. Seriously.
- Go to the Hornbeam and work tomorrow, not forgetting to bring: M's jacket; some writing on our project, as promised; some vague idea of the date so I don't commit to shifts I can't actually do.
Sunday, 22 April 2012
Theft, Oil Paints, Pubs
On Friday, I narrowly avoided having my phone stolen. Entering the gym changing rooms, I caught a woman mid-act, standing by my jacket. I checked my pockets. She said, "What are you looking for?" and I said "my phone." She flashed a phone -mine- at me and said, "well this one is mine." I went out and breathed a moment to make sure it wasn't just paranoia. Then I went back in and it was there on the bench beside her. I grabbed it, said that is my phone. She said "I'm glad you found it." Basically, that sums up Friday.
Until, several missed buses and a missed train later, I sat on Platform 8 at Stratford in the interesting weather and felt awash with peace. I realised, it doesn't matter that much. It's all just for fun. So I had a really good night with A and K, the last for a while as A goes back to Durham tomorrow (today, now.) We were quite civilised. We ate at Cosmo before giving ourselves over to the joys of wine and A and I left early after promising ourselves we wouldn't get caught up and hammered like last time. On the train home I felt a tiny bit blue and began to wonder why on earth NC is avoiding me. What with being me and being tipsy, I inadvisably called her but (un)fortunately, she did not answer the phone. The 4-month mystery stays unsolved.
Today at "work" happiness made me clumsy. I volunteer at a small vegan cafe, Walthamstow's finest and only, with a very interesting collection of people. M offered to pay me £10 an hour to help with an artistic project that involves chisels, hammers, wood and good oil paints. He also said I can take as many vegetables as I like if I help. He is quite intense. Once I let him read a story I had written and it made him cry. Sometimes I feel awkward because the third time we met he was drunk and I was getting there and he declared that he was in love with me. An awkward situation. It isn't right to lead somebody on- but I do really like wood and hammers and paint-spatter. He smiles a lot and sometimes looks as though he sees a picture I don't.
I was working with Kt. I like working with her. She has funny stories about her flatmates, which must sometimes be less than funny to live through. I don't know that being woken at 4 a.m. to the sound of someone pretending to do a strenuous poo, or talking to himself loudly. But it's all in the telling and she tells it so well.
After work I went over to SM's house. We watched The Voice and BGT and then the new Wuthering Heights with Kaya Scodelario. (I had to buy it, as a Blockbuster Leyton- which utterly, utterly reeks of sewage- did not have a copy. So much for embracing optimism!) It was interesting. A few too many shots of desolate moors, even considering that that is the setting. And some very uncomfortable moments. It was a fun, relaxing night. Really needed it. And SM, being a trainee physio, had a look at my weird shoulder- result! Last 86 and 257 and short walk home.
Spurs lost again.
I am currently reading 3 books. Half-poems get half-written. I'm a bit wired in the moments between epiphanies on train platforms. And in the moments between epiphanies and scrawled poems, I feel very quiet and I want to drink very much, or sit very still.
Until, several missed buses and a missed train later, I sat on Platform 8 at Stratford in the interesting weather and felt awash with peace. I realised, it doesn't matter that much. It's all just for fun. So I had a really good night with A and K, the last for a while as A goes back to Durham tomorrow (today, now.) We were quite civilised. We ate at Cosmo before giving ourselves over to the joys of wine and A and I left early after promising ourselves we wouldn't get caught up and hammered like last time. On the train home I felt a tiny bit blue and began to wonder why on earth NC is avoiding me. What with being me and being tipsy, I inadvisably called her but (un)fortunately, she did not answer the phone. The 4-month mystery stays unsolved.
Today at "work" happiness made me clumsy. I volunteer at a small vegan cafe, Walthamstow's finest and only, with a very interesting collection of people. M offered to pay me £10 an hour to help with an artistic project that involves chisels, hammers, wood and good oil paints. He also said I can take as many vegetables as I like if I help. He is quite intense. Once I let him read a story I had written and it made him cry. Sometimes I feel awkward because the third time we met he was drunk and I was getting there and he declared that he was in love with me. An awkward situation. It isn't right to lead somebody on- but I do really like wood and hammers and paint-spatter. He smiles a lot and sometimes looks as though he sees a picture I don't.
I was working with Kt. I like working with her. She has funny stories about her flatmates, which must sometimes be less than funny to live through. I don't know that being woken at 4 a.m. to the sound of someone pretending to do a strenuous poo, or talking to himself loudly. But it's all in the telling and she tells it so well.
After work I went over to SM's house. We watched The Voice and BGT and then the new Wuthering Heights with Kaya Scodelario. (I had to buy it, as a Blockbuster Leyton- which utterly, utterly reeks of sewage- did not have a copy. So much for embracing optimism!) It was interesting. A few too many shots of desolate moors, even considering that that is the setting. And some very uncomfortable moments. It was a fun, relaxing night. Really needed it. And SM, being a trainee physio, had a look at my weird shoulder- result! Last 86 and 257 and short walk home.
Spurs lost again.
I am currently reading 3 books. Half-poems get half-written. I'm a bit wired in the moments between epiphanies on train platforms. And in the moments between epiphanies and scrawled poems, I feel very quiet and I want to drink very much, or sit very still.
Thursday, 19 April 2012
18/4
Today on the ground, I found a heart: a huge, bruised petal in the shadow of a discarded crisp packet. It was an artist's heart, pale pink and shapely. Not a biologist's mangled potato. It looked delicate. An afternoon of rain and footsteps would have pressed it closer to the pavement, making it look like a chalk sketch. It would colour all over; the blanket bruising would make it seem as though it hadn't bruised at all.
Hearts are so good at perception-tricks.
I took a photo of it. It came out wrong, yellowish in tone, the heart looking host-thin and ghost-pale. I was getting some strange looks, so I didn't try again. I kept it, though.
Hearts are so good at perception-tricks.
I took a photo of it. It came out wrong, yellowish in tone, the heart looking host-thin and ghost-pale. I was getting some strange looks, so I didn't try again. I kept it, though.
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