Days Four through Twelve

Dear Friend

Sometimes life feels like a horrible song that I can't get out of my head because it's so undeniably catchy.

It has not been one of those days. Well, two days. Well, seven days. But sometimes two days blur into four and four just desires to be more and meets five and they blend into one and it feels like this:

Wake up eat breakfast it's one in the afternoon I have class in an hour I've got to print this essay, shove cereal down my throat and pull boots on as quick as I can, run, run, run. I've made it! Of course the printer's not working . . .
I'm home now, did I zone out of class? I need to write but I feel empty inside but I feel so full inside, sometimes I can'd decide which is which. Everything is the same thing and nothing all at once, the same picture from different angles, the same coin on different sides, the same mug cracked in different places; I'm placed in this bed, there's a stringy mess of streets before me, sometimes I walk them, wondering just how the blood flows through them, the corner shops and restaurants, the five million Costas . . .
I'm three thousand miles out of place but I feel rooted in this spot, I could go anywhere I want but I don't know where I want to go . . .
If you could fly, would you do it? Would you make that leap into the empty air? Could you whittle away at the massive splinters in your feet and take off? What would you find up there? Cold and loneliness but which feeling is which? The world is tiny between the spaces of your fingertips and blurred into glazed over splatters of color . . .

How can I be happy and sad at the same time?

I haven't written each day because every time I try to type out what's happened I have no idea what has. It's the same thing. Read, think about writing, eat . . . and I've gotten lost in it. Writing to you is like writing for myself, I have impressions and I need to understand them but I never understand them, my hands and my head never work in unity, one always tries to usurp the other and that makes it hurt in between, no wonder I'm in a constant state of heartache.

Kellie and I sing random songs until one or two in the morning.
I wear my peace bracelet on my bicep that has no bicep.
I bought mushrooms that expire tonight, so I've been throwing mushrooms in everything I eat.
There are more Tandoori restaurants in just a few London streets than there probably are in the rest of the world.
I've gotten my iPad to charge, so skyping is a thing.
My fang also tore, but this was when I was taking it off so it's not as bad. I just need to find a different string. It's also rusting . . . bitchass thing.
Aristotle is dry as fuck, but there are things to be learned there.
Started Genesis in Cultural Foundations.
Finally out of Medieval London in A History of London.
Why does my writing professor not really check the status of our writing ability as class goes on???

[Here is where I tried to put up my Sadness and Sorrow cover but I couldn't because life sucks and cameras suck and I'll wait till I have my action cam to not suck and ugh life why first world problems.]

Spicy dreams.

Day Three

Dear Friend

The world is a scary, scary place, shadows cast everywhere, but I'm smiling like the light that cast them because yesterday was one of those days where it was Jessie (my guitar, if you need reminding) and I being beautiful together, playing softly in the background of my thoughts. I read The Fall of Five, and the new ghostwriter is pretty glorious, flew through another fivish episodes of Supernatural with Kellie, mostly learned this with Jessie:

*THE BLOODY FEELSALL OF THE THEM.*

Ugh.

I ate spicy chicken liver from Nando's and chips drowning in ketchup. It was just one of those nights.

I wrote of my wanderlust and these aren't the words but this is how it felt:

My eyelids are shivering there's a comb beside my feet there are bed sheets sprawled around me and outside there's a skyline I haven't memorized. I don't know any of these buildings, what is that red light flickering in the distance, why am I thinking of the construction sites nearby, what are they building? What am I building inside with my travels here, I have traveled here and I feel uprooted, my family's 3500 miles away, but my mind is on the other side of the galaxy today, it's not homesickness because I'm not sick, I feel so terrifyingly good that I don't know where I am and I want to know where I'm going, it's just the only thing I know is where I have come from and that's so backwards for me, I'm upside down but I guess the world's just built on being right side up so I better change my the range my understanding. I love talking about Saturday morning cartoons and books and worlds that I understand but never been to, like falling into a friend's arms, I understand you but I'll never really truly know you, do you know what it's like to want to get out of your own skin all the time, what's the point of ever being stuck to one point in time and space at all, I can't handle stillness and silence, they seem to steal things from me.

Spicy dreams.

Day Two

Dear Friend

I've settled in.

The first few days were like this:

Where am I, why is everything so small, hello what's your name I seem to have forgotten mine so can I borrow yours, come on what's your life story?
Deep breath; huge smile. Adrenaline's on high. I love this city.
And then: Wow you play ukulele like I've never seen! Yeah I play a little guitar but not like that! And you, I should make you pancakes, this one time a friend and I mixed Siracha with our maple syrup to slather on our banana pancakes . . . no I'm not sad I'm just remembering because it's sweet sometimes to live in the moments that carve stories out of your bones. So you're my room-mate, huh, can you manage me living out of this suitcase because I'm kind of a nut job and I need to be in a mess to feel at home, yeah?

And then: Don't you just like to rush out in a new town and take every wrong turn and just get lost? Wow the spiders absolutely love the street lamps in this city, it's so warm even at night right now, I hope it gets cold soon, the stars are so lost up there I wish we could see them, let's talk about everything, sit down and take a chair I've got a few, and a table to boot. 

And then: Hey look at my Doctor Who belt, and your T.A.R.D.I.S. shirt. Together we could rule this city! Together we could rule this city. Lying together, the skyline outlines my thoughts, it's only been days but we've fallen into each other the way the rain seems to so constantly fall onto the flagstones and the way that I speak to you like every word is the first and last word that I'll ever say . . . as if, when pouring out, I discover everything I am about to say, and long to spill it all at the same time, but your eyes hold me together and keep me calm while I tangent off about the humbling, humbling nature of everything that I love.

Today was like this:

I feel so overwhelmingly lost and empty inside for absolutely no reason, maybe it's because I've got a day off, and those kinds of days are where I get so off, I wander without getting lost, but it's okay, I watched half a season of Supernatural with Kellie, who has been a redhead for a week now, I think, which is pretty amazing though it has very little significance I tried writing but I can't.

I'm stuck between thinking I'm thinking all of the most complex and gorgeous thoughts fathomable and not being able to dig them out from under my fingernails, and thinking I'm drowning in a complete lack of nothing. I wish you were here to make the words come out. I consider what you would exalt and criticize when I try to spark some kind of life in a story.

This city is truly a wonderful place. Every little bit amazes me. The tube, the random porn in the telephone boxes, the better dressed people, the whole slew of cyclists, the brickwork and the layout and the buildings and the shops and the chai. I walked around for two hours and it felt like this:

The lightest rain brushes my skin, the sharp looks of the people around me balancing it out, the umbrella's like my shell and we're all a bunch of silly beetles scurrying about in the rain, my breaths come in cold but I'm so warm, trying to shop was such a waste of time, I dearly miss my sister who I have not called in days, sometimes I'm afraid everything's just a dream but then again it has been such a lovely dream, I don't have to remind myself to look right first when crossing the road, and I find myself back home quite easily. Did you see that? I called it home.

Spicy dreams.

Day One

Dear Friend

This is Day One.
As beginnings go, it's been delayed.

So, hello.
Hello.
Hello.
Hey, hi, how are you doing, how has it been, are you alright, I can't listen to half the music I want to because I hear us badly singing the songs in my head, are you eating okay, of course you're not eating okay, what am I saying, you're you and you never think about such trivial things, isn't it?

Slight recap:

Around fourteen billion years ago, there was an explosion, like the biggest Fourth of July Fireworks show you've never seen.
Since then there have been plenty more explosions, scarring the night sky.
Some of the debris smashed together violently into a speck of dust.
Then there were smaller explosions, impossibly smaller, not even firecrackers.
Eventually on that speck I found that you found me.
There were bits before that, like being born and being the shiest, quietest, angry kid who fell into video games and cartoons like they were bed sheets.
But here we are. On Day One, twenty-three (?) days away from never having said the worst word I know: goodbye.


***Discovered this; gonna learn it***