Sunday, March 25, 2012

Bad Bunny

I am an awful friend who forgets birthdays.

I hate myself.

Trouble is, I don't know dates. Dates have no rhythm to me, ie, daily. That is no excuse, I know. I want to pay more attention to dates as of now. A friend has this fantastic little calendar in her john with people's birthdays and anniversaries in it. It's not a yearly calendar, it's a life calendar, that repeats year after year - I know because I've been there two years running and I've seen that it is still there and turned to the correct month. It's not cumbersome or imposing, it just sits there quietly and informatively by the light switch as you stare at it blindly, semi-registering that today is in fact a number and perhaps it is a day you should be present on, rather than slipping through again on your blurry rollercoaster. The john is the perfect time to be reminded of such things, rather than, say, reading the same paragraph of the new yorker fiction section. The new yorker doesn't belong in the john, you don't get enough time. It belongs on the kitchen table, the bedside. My john shall from now on be empty, aside from the little calendar. I will look at it, note that today is 25. Think - hmmm - nothing today, but what about tomorrow? Interesting. Must not forget that one. Next week? Birthday season. Must remember to buy...etc etc etc. And I will add to it, the more dates I gather to remember as life goes on. And I will be good. I will be a rememberer.

I have tried to find a little calendar such as the above but they don't seem to exist and you really want one that you like because you're going to have to live with it for a while. I found a nice one but it was in Italian and I didn't want to risk looking at Gennaio instead of January and drifting off on some italian loo fantasy. You can make them yourself online, but they look cheap and dicky. I need one with authority. 

Anyway, it's no excuse, the dates, the calendar, the john. I'm sorry Angel. I love you every day. Your birthday is so important to me. I promise I'll be better.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Panama-nah

It is our anniversary today, so it's only fitting that Mr Rabbit be on a plane to Panama. I'm down with it. We ate an incredible dinner the other night which involved squab 'and it's heart' and a single glass of champagne that will forever live on in my own squabbish heart as the glass of infinite cheerses. I wore red pants. It was magnifique. 3 years is leather. He gave me boots. I joked about gimp masks. Today he left at 6am, me with my boots, Kiki with mahna-mahna on youtube. It's hard to get into mahna-mahna at 6am when Mr Rabbit has just left. The house is blue. And those puppets are just so pink...

I think it's appropriate that Mr Rabbit be on the plane to Panama on our anniversary because it's freedom, and that's why I decided to get married to him, because life with him makes me freer. I wanted to catapult myself onto that freedom and ride on it for life. And three years on it's true, it has got freer. Yes, I may be home with my boots in the dark and mahna mahna, but I am utterly liberated and that is because of him. I don't want to get all sappy, but the day I married him, it was like being a vessel in a vast hall of light. I felt picked up. Just like the day we met. I never imagined getting married really, though I experimented with the idea plenty. Mainly the experimentation was with the idea of completely losing myself inside someone else and disappearing, utterly. This is the opposite of that. It's like standing up on top of someone else and then letting them stand up on top of you. You're separate, but you can get higher together. It's good. I am in love with it. I am in love with being married to him, just as much as I am in love with him. Sorry, that probably just made you vomit in your mouth a bit. But that's ok, it's love day. I love you Mr Rabbit. I hope you're having fun up in the clouds playing tetris and drinking scotch. Are you playing tetris? Or watching movies? Bit of both? Or is tetris boring without a challenger? Are you sleeping? I hope you didn't get any sickness. Will you bring us home hats?

 

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Fashion. Style. War.

Still kills me.

Wondering about Fashion

I am wondering about fashion.

I am thinking about presentation and how even though I am currently living in seclusion in a remote seaside town which was recently host to a large-scale ice bust, it is important to get up and get dressed. I have noticed the difference it makes, even when not being seen all day. I heard once that Nick Cave gets up in the morning and puts his suit on, has breakfast and then leaves for work. Which is his studio downstairs in his house. I suppose it's a form of honoring your work, your self, presenting yourself, even if it's just to yourself. For yourself. 

Because, after all, what else have you got?

I'm into it. 

All over it.

Cruising photos of Paris fashion week. 

Fantasizing.

And particularly loving this chick.

 

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Slow Down Elephant Underarm Eyes

Hey, life can really go fast and I just realised it's up to me to slow it down.

I'm going to.

Starting with not trying to do so much stuff.

Take a chill pill, lie on grass. I haven't had a day sleep in ages and I had one today and felt guilty. That was silly. Especially as the bags under my eyes were like an elephant's underarm. I'm going to sleep more and try to smell the roses. Starting today. We're going to - the two of us - it's a pact. 

Friday, March 2, 2012

Baby Dream Hatred Dream

Mr Rabbit dreamt we had another baby. He said the feeling was great. And then when I asked him if he wanted another baby he shivered and said no.

I slept in the other room because the wind was making the trees scrape the roof down there and also I was wired and needed a change of atmosphere.

I dreamed that everyone hated me. It was a dreadful feeling. People were fighting in a bar - a man had his hand mutilated. Everyone was blaming me. I got on my bike and rode to the house of a couple who I knew, who I don't know, in a Carltonish place, and I asked them if they liked me and they said, Frankly, no. I asked them why. And they said, we just don't trust you any more. I was all panicky and I sat down on their carpet crying. Somebody had defamed me, like in politics, and nobody would tell me exactly what had been said.