If you close the door the night could last forever

Do you ever get the feeling that you're practicing living?

I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm going to try to explain. I wasn't even going to explain it to you, I planned it out somewhere else but changed my mind. I mean not that it really matters. Here you'll read it or glance at it. One or two of you might latch on to little things and ignore the rest. Others might bring things up I've forgotten I even wrote later and muddle my head a little. There nobody is really reading and those that are I don't know. Either way I'm just talking to myself because I never seem to have the time to talk to you.

I'm doing my utmost to be good. You know suppress my instinct that tells me to cancel everything! Hide out at home where nobody can see you. I have no idea what I'm afraid of. Make a decision and back track to get out of it. It's like I have to switch something off in my brain to have a goddamn good time. Somedays I'm too fucking indecisive to set foot outside my own house. I hate that. I really really do.

But yesterday I didn't let myself think. I woke up for five minutes and cursed my pillow and whisky for tasting so good and giving me headaches. And then I woke up later and wrote. Flurries and flurries of words. Go back and write them again and I'm waiting to see if I actually have the guts to finish any of it. But you know I am actually enjoying myself. I mean I want it all, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hit it big, but little things like my dad telling me my dialogue was good even though I hadn't wanted him to read the piece he took it means a lot. It's not like I'm starved of praise or anything I'm just vain though I don't believe the things people say. I read my work and hear my voice and my thoughts and it's annoying. Like I could write the most amazing thing and never want to read it because I wrote it.

Anyway point, point, point. I digress far too much. I made myself go into uni even though I didn't know where the room I was going to was and I don't like getting a grade in front of other people in case I bombed. But it was my old archaeology guy from last semester who is like the nicest guy you could ever want teaching. Also I got a B. A B for saying hey guys prehistory is pretty goshdarn old dontcha think? Fuck yes I am awesome. I have one more essay to get back and if I get a good grade on that I have succeeded. Not that any of it really matters because I'm only at uni because I don't have anything else to do and bullshitting through essays is all I can do but whatever.

So then I'm like is that what I'm gonna do the rest of my life. Bullshit and bullshit until I hit an end? I write blind, I read blind, I live blind and sometimes I don't stop long enough to notice anything. Oi, oi, oi it is trouble. Though in all honesty everything is ok. May is dull but once the exams pass me I can breathe. There's no sense that maybe I should at least pretend to study. Trick my mind that I know this shit. My archaeology essay said I made good use of archaeological language. This is because I'm very good at throwing things in to make it sound like a know shit. Hmm maybe dendrochronology would be useful here?

I am very very slowly turning a darker shade of pale. I will never be brown but the freckles that faintly emerge make life more interesting. My fingernail joins up the dots. It's something to do. In a perfect world I'd be sitting in a sea of green with the sun on my face and a cigarette that wouldn't involve my father battering me and I would write a masterpiece and sleep happily. Instead I have to sit on concrete in the sun because the neighbours behind us are nudist crazy christians with a trampoline and the guy next door is cheerfully annoying with sheds to build and dogs that yap. there's a park three doors down but I wouldn't sit in it for love or money. It was a lot more fun when my rabbit wasn't dead. She made the concrete fluffier. I used to sprawl out on an old lounger thing that was suspiciously squeaky and sank in the middle. I'd lay there with gigantic sunglasses and a book and she would stretch out beneath me, occasionally nibbling at my fingers or my hair if it trailed down. I miss her.

I forgot my point. And the sweetest little song came on and I don't really care. I think it's the sun. I'm being unusually cheerful to strangers on buses and in shops which is good you know because I'm so fumbling clumsy. At least with a smile it feels all ok. I'm listening to After Hours by the way by the Velvet Underground which more people need to listen to because they were a pretty damn important band in the shaping of a lot of bands these days. I mean honest to go a huge part of the indie genre would not exist if they hadn't. Anyway it is the most sweetest little song and even if you don't bother your asses getting musically educated if you have seen the science of sleep the song Gael sings dressed up as a cat is the same song with different lyrics. And if you've seen brick you've heard the velvet underground. I'm saying this purely because I only ever get to talk about them (aside from my dad who adores them) to drunk guys that are usually in their mid-twenties who get very excited that when they asked the usual so what sort of music are you into and get a band that is actually good. Unfortunately you can actually see the conflict. Do I start a musical conversation with this girl or do I go hmm yes and try and kiss her again. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Last one talked to me and kissed my friend. That is greed right there.

I had the most intense dream. I was crushed in with too many people and everyone was talking too much and oh whatever. I'm tired now.

Have you ever, ever felt like this? When strange things happen are you going round the twist. You know there's a few conversations from a girl called Kirsty who is not the Kirsty some of you know but a different one who I was really close to when I was younger. Anyway one of them is that show and some episode she saw that I never did about the guy getting pregnant by a fairy while he was peeing against a tree. I do not know why I would remember that or if it even is a real episode. She also told me that she got on an 18 from east kilbride and it took her all the way into town before going home so we could never ever get on an 18 again because it was lies. I've been up and down from east kilbride twice in the past week. None of the many buses were 18s. God I loved her. I met her on the subway a while back. She goes to Glasgow now, she was always much smarter than she acted and dear god I just wanted to hug her and ask if her mum ever did get pregnant like Kirsty was so sure she was. But you know just cause you were inseparable as kids doesn't mean you can throw yourself onto them now.

She's reminded me of lesbians. Not because she is one but whatever. In the west end yesterday I saw this couple, all over each other with arms wrapped round like about twice and ending on the opposite ass and kissing all the time. It was like please put your joy away. I do not need to see lesbians licking each other. Anyway that isn't the story. The best part of this was they were not alone. There was a third girl walking beside them. Now you know how you get the pretty girl and her fat friend? Well this was the okish but lesbian couple and the fat friend. Oh how uncomfortable and left out she looked. It was sad yet I laughed far too loud on the bus as we passed them.

Dear god I've written a lot of shite and now my mum has brought me home a sandwich. Sweet free food, my life is fantastic.