20 July, 2007


Heartsick about my book, (Affinty by Sarah Waters). I cannot even describe how palpabile my disappointment feels. I was finishing the book in bed when the sky opened up rather phenomenally. Torrents of rain pelted down onto the hot London rooftops creating steam!

The thing is, I fell in love with the book. I highlighted passages, I copied them into my journal. I read them aloud to myself. I wandered around London lovesick; intoxicated by it's pages. It was shaped and formed my days, created a quickening in my mind.

And there was a sting in the book's ending. A real sting. An unwanted twist. A double cross I wasn't expecting, but moreover, I didn't want in the least. The book made me believe in magic, you see, it made me belive in true love and in a world beyond our own. It named my grief. It was personal.

And just as Sarah Waters had me, she took hold of my trusting heart and squashed it like a bug. I was crestfallen, and felt genuinely abused by her insouciance. As if she was saying to me "haha silber! magic and true love and the spiritual world don't exist! But I really had you didn't I? I really comforted you and made you believe. What a fool you are. Who else but a fool would invest in 300 pages of rubbish? Gotcha."

The sky reflected my feelings perfectly.

So I feel London has turned against me today. London... The Big Smoke... it has stubbed me out like a ciggarette. Perhaps it is just a matter of taking up a non-fiction...

It has become increasingly remarkable to me how constant dissatisfaction is in life. And to add insult-- sometimes I feel as though the MORE one has "everything" the more empty the feeling... but perhaps it is merely that these "everythings" don't hold the all powerful positions you once imagined they would.

It is also remarkable how yearning takes us over. But I suppose it is what personally drives me to accomplish most things, this yearning.

I am just sorry Sarah Waters has stomped on my heart.

17 July, 2007

London Still

Reading the most extraordinary book! Affinity by Sarah Waters. Waters, who has so touched my heart before, has reached right down inside me and tugged, squeezed on, and pulled open my heart. I marvel at how the pages seem to fill my days with beauty and meaning and sorrow and tenderness.

... So many things play upon my mind lately-- keep me restless at night! I have come to the Embankment gardens to search out clarity, perhaps recognition of the swarming in my head, so i might ease it. But as usual, I am faced with so many distractions, and not enough down time in which to fully explore.

I feel dreadfully isolated and simultaneously cramped. London. Perhaps... but how unfair of me to be cross with London when it has been so good to me, offered me a place to thrive.

Just now I felt the rumble of the underground beneath my body here on the grass! It has made the trees throw pollen as if in celebration.

A peculiar man has approached me to ask if I am an artist. I tried to be very kind and gracious but felt desperate for him to leave me alone. I think an earlier version of myself might have viewed him more histrionically. I might have made him a living angel, a messenger, a guide. Now I don't know what I think.

Ah. There is that rumble again. This time more ominous.

05 July, 2007

The Zoo

A birthday treat...

It is important to know the difference between a pelican and a flamingo. 
This is key.
... Disappointment is a bitter thing... 

04 July, 2007

Twenty Four

This has been a strange year. Being 24. Twenty Four. The same number of hours in a day. This has been the first year I have experienced the sensation of AGE and time passing by. Hello smile line. Hello there. You are NEVER going to get fainter or smaller, you will only get deeper. You signify 24 years of smiling. Hello forehead. When I raise my eyebrows (often), you used to bounce right back. Now you don't. You will never bounce back again.

There comes a point where being young is no loner an excuse one can use (with others or with oneself) for ignorance, for incompetency, for emotional outbursts. There is a point when asking for guidance from "grownups" is no longer appropriate, because you are now also an adult... when did that ol' swticheroo occur...? And I realised just the other day, that I have reached this point, and it really frightens me. You are really on your own, and accountable, forever.

I suppose I am simply mourning the loss of childhood for good. (And I guess I'm also a little peeved because mine was cut so short by the Dad incident, and one never gets it back...) It's just a long spread of adulthood ahead, filled with unknowns, anti-wrinkle creams and possibilities... I haven't come to terms with any of it.


Related Posts with Thumbnails