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\ˈlü-səd\ : \ˈtwī-ˌlīt\
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Sun, May. 1st, 2011 03:48 am

I want to go back to Kansas City. It's all I can think about and it's driving me crazy.

I greatly dislike KC, by the way. But my Number One and Number Two favourite persons are there, and neither one of them are particularly happy. #2 is having his family totally ripped away from him, and isn't even able to be in the same state as his kids right now (because of practicalities like, having a place to stay, etc.) and he didn't do anything wrong. His family is everything to him. And #1... Well. He's just in a shit situation all around, and it wouldn't matter if he weren't because I always want to be wherever he is.

But both of them are in KC now. Or close enough. A hell of a lot closer than I am right now. So I'm conspiring to pair them up. If I can't be there to take care of either of them, maybe they can act as substitute mes instead.

Now I just have to figure out where exactly I'm going to find $850 (sounds much easier to accomplish as £500) and what exactly I would do about having a place to stay and transportation...

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Sat, Apr. 30th, 2011 05:36 am

My mother's bath balm smells like him.
Which has made the entire living room smell like him.
For hours.

I can't decide if I hate it or love it.
I think it might be a little of both.


I wonder if handling the distance would be easier if things were just simple between us, or if it'd hurt more. If I could come up with something to justify it, I would've begged them for a plane tickets a million times already.

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Sat, Apr. 2nd, 2011 05:50 pm
I need to stop setting myself up to get my heart broken.
I see it coming from miles away, but do I get out of the road?
Hell no.

Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Fri, Apr. 1st, 2011 03:47 am

I can wrap you in poetry
and paint you in words
so everyone falls in love with you
(and don't we all, anyway);
so they look at me and say,
what a talent you are
for creating this man
so beautiful and real it hurts.

But I have to shake my head
and quietly point your way
and tell them, No. He's just over there.
Because it wasn't me who dreamed you up
and I can't take credit for making you real.
Or beautiful.

Nearly every day,
I say it in one way or another.
And nearly every day,
I hope that just once
it'll be strong enough to
make you safe,
make you happy,
make you feel invincible.

Maybe one day it will.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Fri, Apr. 1st, 2011 01:29 am

On a side note, I am writing this as I print "World's End" to read and show it around. Hope you don't mind.

So.

For my last comment, you should know two things: I am a writer you can't read, and a fan of yours.

Like many others.

Question sir! Have you published any books? If not, please contact an agent, an editor and get the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Please, oh please do it

Second, like many other (desperate) writers, we have the bad habit of imitating the good ones. And like many other (new) writers, we don't know what to do when we don't have what to write. Not in the sense of not having what to say, but not knowing how to say it.

Or both, sometimes.

I was wondering if you could have the time to be my mentor, or teacher, or just the person who could give me some tips. Exercises would be the best, something to practice with.

I'm willing to write again in English just for showing you, in case you want that.

The reason is, you are amazing.

Picturing scenes is your best; stanza, tempo, everything in your writings is a symphony. Your poems are the closest to literary sex.

Every paragraph is a climax.
Every word, a mindfuck.

Literally.

Language there isn't just a tool to tell something happened. Language is the things happening.

So far you should have noticed how much I admire you. And your writing too.

This is why I ask.

Now, left that question in the air. And I thought I wouldn't have the words or the balls to ask. I'm waiting for your answer.

Always a deep admirer of yours,

XXXXXXXX


In other news, people are difficult, but that's nothing new.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Wed, Mar. 30th, 2011 05:54 am

I think it just might be almost finished.

At least, finished in the sense that the first digital draft is compiled. I have 1.5 contact sheets left to go through, a handful of images to make, and an even smaller handful of words to type up. If I could figure out how to print Word documents like contact sheets, I so would right now. It would make the kinesthetic part of my brain (smaller than the visual bit, but pretty feisty all the same) much less twitchy to have something to hold onto. It dislikes all this trying to rearrange things without being able to touch them.

A. still isn't talking to me. I don't know if that's deliberate, or if he's just being odd, because, well, he's not talking to me. I'm tempted to just call instead of relying on IMs and text messages, and because it's the closest thing to just showing up somewhere. (I really prefer direct communication - face to face is best, voice-to-voice next, etc. & so on.) The downside is if the not talking is deliberate I could get yelled at, or still ignored. Maybe I'll ask Neko what he thinks, though he'll probably give me a very noncommittal answer. I could ask L.'s thoughts on the subject, but I haven't sifted out exactly how I feel on that matter, so it's better to just leave it for the moment.

Last lecture tomorrow, then I have a month off to get my portfolios together and study for my exam. Well, I have a week to get one portfolio together, then a month for the other two. It seems so strange that this year's basically done with already. I have no idea what I'm going to do with all that time. I mean. Besides concocting massively time-consuming projects that make me what to puree my brain, and find a place to live, and find a job and move, and...

Right. That's what I'm going to be doing.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Tue, Mar. 29th, 2011 04:02 am
I got this idea at some point during my feverish delirium of the past week to put together a book of stuff. Sort of indirectly inspired by the mountains of notes I leave to myself (my bulletin board has a collage somewhere beneath the Post-It notes, which are also on my bookshelf, my wardrobe, my desk, in notebooks...) and this book of word sketches by Jack Kerouac I found while meandering bookstores with my step-father.

(Didn't buy it. Still too much of a poor student to buy books. And I already spent about £100 on clothes/camera and April hasn't even started yet. Yay...)

Then Nicky weighed in on the matter, strongly in favour of. He's been a bit disgruntled about my deleted internet presence anyway - oh. yeah. I'm no longer on Facebook and for about a week or so I took everything off deviantART, too, because there are just too many damn people in the world wanted to be connected. I still haven't gone back to Facebook. Nicky doesn't know about this journal.

So this project started out to be something similar, especially since I had a lot of little snippets of things from my two failed attempts at 362 last year, and it's turned into this mutated, swarmy monster that is going to eat my brain. It's like. Visual art with words. It's totally messed up my sleeping habits, too.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Sat, Mar. 26th, 2011 10:50 am
I keep having this dream I get bitten by a snake.
And I still feel it when I wake up.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Sat, Mar. 26th, 2011 01:47 am
I keep thinking about the boy I married, and what would have happened if he'd ever grown up. Or grown up differently. Or faster. Or less destructively.

I keep thinking about the confidence we had that we were meant to be together, that we fit each other so well.

I just keep turning it over and over in my head how someone can damage themselves so thoroughly and irrevocably.

And sometimes, I wonder, for all the good that came up of separating, if something might have been gained in staying together.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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Thu, Mar. 24th, 2011 05:59 pm
I want to buy books. Books of every shape and size with smooth, sleek covers and rough, papery covers. I want to drown in typed fonts and pages that are thick, thin, gilded, transparent, dusty, fresh and smell the smells buried in their bindings. I want to surround myself in books and never, ever leave.

I wish I had someone to bring me soup.
Londis seems so very far away right now.
I would have to climb steps.

When I figure out where home is, I think I'll go there.

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Current Location: Newcastle Upon Tyne

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