As I prepare to write this post, first I read the blogs I follow, one in particular catches my thoughts (Bottledworder). Not exactly, but syncronistically. Do you like that word I just made up? Don’t correct me, let me believe it’s mine. Tonight let my Dyslexia have free reign, more so than usual.

Yesterday I intended to post today (especially after that blog!), I knew what I was going to post. I knew that I was going to carry through my resolution not to edit the two pieces I am about to present to you. They are only unusual in terms of the fact that they are unfinished.

I have this massive spot on my lip, I just thought you should know this, it is very painful and even after three days is showing no sign of going away! In fact, it’s growing. I might spontaneously combust after all, but what a way to go, taken out by a boil!!! Why doesn’t spell checker like combust?

SOooooooo… the second of the pieces, it ends in a way that I do not feel. I am not waiting. I told a lot of people to leave me and my life alone recently, those are not the actions of someone waiting. This is doing. I am doing. Presently, I am messing up a piece of artwork for a friend that should have been finished for her birthday in October. Shhhhhhh. It’s ok I only know 3 of my followers.

High every one! Thanks for liking and following my blog. I am thinking that I wish I had bought a beer or two now and that I find the cat clacking very distracting, I wish she would bugger off. OK. Are you ready…

“You will do anything to make me smile. But you won’t make a job of it. You will not try find elaborate solutions to simple problems. If a shelf is falling down, you will carry the weight until I can take all the fragile things off (as opposed to running around to find something to prop the shelf up with). Eventually the shelf will have to be fixed and you’d rather do it now, because you know it won’t be done otherwise and eventually the brolly will become a brolly again and the person who wants to stay dry will not know that it is no longer an umbrella. The shelf will finally drop it’s burden and then…”

Even I want to know what then! I was invigilating an open art exhibition and a customer wanted to talk. We talked about printing and etching.

The second piece was meant to be about a performance that I did, but it had it’s own ideas. I have also kept the limitations of the piece of scrap paper that I wrote it on. In this instance I think a re-write would completely change the ambiance. PS I am led to believe that suki suki is japanese for *really like* I hope I am not wrong about this.

“Last night I fell in and out of love.
I was down and out, a whore, a drunk.
I had a baby and I left it with it’s curious father.
The audience named it Star. A wicker baby
ready to be thrown on the fire. Disposable.
Trying to cheat the cold I stay at a friends.
Her alarm goes off six times or more, I need to pee.
She eats, showers, feeds the cat, dries her hair,
and in my borrowed bed I think, “Just go to work!”.

Ungrateful I am and more ungrateful yet to come.
The cat cries for attention as I bring the box up
from the cellar, kicking the spare boxes out of the way.
Foul tempered, my alarm went off six times or more.
I stole into her ship sized bed, and slept well.
Too well. Grumbling on the way back from the shop
I hear a train. I know I will be late now. I did
not anticipate it would take 1 1/2 hours to make a
half hour journey. He lets me in through the door,

I’m too stiff to fall in. I must be blue, he asks
if I have seized up. I’m surprised he noticed. I am
sore and want to cry. I’m fed up. I could do with
going home. I’m hungry I haven’t had a cup of tea.
I’m an hour late! He is kind and I begin to calm
Laughter is a balm. Now I am making pom poms.
Or rather one. I am bored already. I make a tea or rather

a coffee, steal some biscuits.
There is no one around to ask,
my upbringing pricks my
consience. I am here to look
after art, we cannot fathom
the word; currate, invigilate
attend. It shouldn’t matter
but it does and has done
for the last three days.

I drift back to last night
and wonder why I can’t just
say what it is that I do,
when I do it so well.
No wonder people think I
am mentally ill. I’m not
I’m Dyslexic, apparently
my reading and writing are
unaffected and it could just
be that I have undiagnosed
Autistic tendencies but then
again… And why all of a
sudden this level of honesty
and rambling style? I have
been reading Suki. “Do you know
Suki they ask. “Yes”. or

rather “no”. We have
met, but I know her
more for her poems
than modeling and
I read her cards or
rather Pixie Mummy
did and she surprised
me with her ambition.

Suki is on my mind;
or rather suki suki.
Yes, I am alone too