Despite the day-old headache, I roused myself out of this apathy and went for a walk around my suburb at eight and went for a walk around the suburbs this early evening with a Canon 350D. Twilight sinking gently into the backstreets of Preston. Barbed-wire fences, ageing industrial wastelands, metal degrading and decaying everywhere. I grew up here and despite the ugliness of it, it's my home and I adore it.
--
Few days ago I discovered a note a good friend had left me in my phone, back in September. I never wanted to be your rolling train; I never wanted to be your dancing shoes. I love surprises and I love that boy.
--
Plastic cups. Burn holes in the carpet. Full ashtray.
Your breathing. Your breathing. You're still. You're still.
Still here. Still here.
Film photographs. Negative images. A ghost of you,
resting against my back. Late spring rain.
Quiet flat. Open windows, impossible night.
Spinning fan. I could recognise that laugh anywhere.
Swallow hard. Against me. Against me.
It's no good.
--
Dashed off, quickly, in a fit of sleeplessness. Right now I'm just writing and writing and writing, knowing that most of it is bollocks, but hoping that with a lot of time and a lot of practice, something of not-entirely-dubious quality will reappear again. I'm looking forward to properly getting my jam on with Luke. Downloaded a copy of FruityLoops a few days ago and gave it a whirl tonight - it's a complete mystery to me, at the moment, but with the guidance of a good friend and some sweet beats, I think we could be on our way to making magic. The dream: I am living it!
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