OK so before anyone says it, I know I’m not supposed to read or share any of this yet, but what the hell, shoot me…..
Note to the uninitiated, this isn’t meant to make sense, OK? So why am I writing it? It’s all I’ve got right now…..
Snowing, another morning, still at home. Watching people scurry by in their winter woolies, faces screwed up against the wind. Where did all that time go?
Only seem capable of cleaning, feeding and keeping myself warm, how can I move myself forward?
In a warm coat and bibbity bobbity hat, oh God I can do better than that…..
Bailed on ballroom again last night, hey ho…Who am I? More to the point who do I say I am?
Hi, I’m Sista and I’m not sure what/who I am yet, can I come back to you? What, really? You don’t want to dance with me?!
Hi, I’m S, yes I took a bit of a sabbatical from work for the last year…..what? Did I travel, volunteer, work in a kibbutz, run a marathon, get an allotment, set up my own business, write a book? No of course not, I’m a total fucking loser, hey…hey…..where are you going….hello?
God knows I’m good, God knows I’m good, God may look the other way today….
So quiet here today, blazing fire, warm dozing cats, hot tea, all I need is a loud, ticking clock and for Mr Tumnus to pop by and play me a tune and I might fall asleep forever…
…never have to worry about going out again, such a lovely idea….George Michael you can stick going outside up your ….., staying in is the fetish du jour……
Except my fucking itchy hand would keep me awake of course, it’s big and raw and driving me crazy, my quarter stigmata for an undeserving martyr, who likes a tomata, and reads of Siddhartha…
Dr B will kill me for clawing at it and making it worse, I’ll come home with a big plastic cone around my neck, disobedient little bitch that I am.
Today only day left to do Artists date, wonder if she’ll take a rain (or would that be snow) check?