I'M GONNA TAKE YOU FOR WORSE OR BETTER

I have to admit, I'm back on this thing a lot sooner than I had expected, but this really great girl emailed me last week with the sweetest words about my blog, and she made me realise that there are still people out there reading and enjoying my bullshit, and I really shouldn't deny them that. Especially not now when I'm about to do tons more craziness.

Like fasting and training for a marathon in the same month. For one. It's just nearing Ramadan time in the UAE and I have decided that I will fast this year. Properly. Last year when I did it, I didn't have a job so it was more a matter of partying all night, sleeping all day then waking up just in time to start eating again around 6-ish. But this time, I have a full time job...a little more than full time since being a journalist often involves many unfortunately very attractive after work engagements...and this time, my office building isn't cutting us fasters any slack. I will be at work surrounded by British expats chowing on beans, eggs and toast in the morning and tuna ciabattas at lunch while trying hard not to swallow my saliva or faint in between typing a really witty paragraph. No food or drink between the hours of 6am and 6pm. No sex...in all its forms (which should be interesting since I now live with my constantly erect Palestinian boyfriend and being off the pill has sparked a similar situation in my loins). And a LOT less booze (sorry, I'm an alcoholic).

I am also pretty big on Muay Thai these days (especially on a Friday morning as punishment for unruly drinking habits the night before) and am about to be honoured with those special fringed shorts the fighters wear, but with a cobra smack on the crotch area to represent the club I roll with. YEAH! So excited about that. 

AND I found a sick tattoo artist in Sharjah that my MT teacher is going to take me to see for my next piece (in case you're wondering why I'm so excited about a fucking tattoo artist, tattoo and piercing parlours are sort of illegal in the UAE and sort of don't exist - it's so bad, I can stop traffic if I leave the house in my bullring).

And it's true what they say about Indians - they know how to make money out of anything and are total businessmen. I'm now rolling with this new girl at work that I'm going to call The Mogul. She has a passion for fashion and money making and despite the way I used to feel about working with other people (pretty much 'NO'), she really gets my ass in gear and things are getting done just BECAUSE someone else is involved. So, although a little distracted from our real work in the office from time to time, we work really well together and we might see this "thing" launch soon. But I won't say anything else just yet. 

So back to that sweet girl who wrote to me...except I have to retrace my steps a little to tell this story right. 

I've been seeing this reiki practitioner some weeks to get my colours cleaned and my body healed and all that (don't ask). And during my last session, he told me that he had a vision of an owl while he was working on me and that I should be aware of them if I see any in the near future. He said the owl was a sign of protection. And I thanked him and left. The following day was when this girl wrote to me. She told me she had just launched her clothing line and I checked it out...and it's pretty cool...Owl prints and all...

"The Owl print was the first made specifically for women, I won’t bore you with the symbolism of the owl at the end of the day it’s a kick arse pattern for kick arse girls. Being black and white it’s great for mix and match and the t-shirts look good tuck in or out, take it and make it your own.
Made from naturally sustainable bamboo a resource that is being used increasingly in the world of fashion. The material itself is light, near translucent and softer than cotton, it’s cool in summer, warm in the winter and feels almost as if you’re wearing liquid gold. If I had my way I’d wrap the world in it.
Its machine washable and suitable for use all year long, save the world one t-shirt at a time!
Blend 70% Bamboo 30% Organic Cotton"

And I just love these other two

 ...couldn't hurt to buy a couple tshirts, right?

 IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

HALF OF THE TIME WE'RE GONE BUT WE DON'T KNOW WHERE

This is a big one...(oh, and I actually wrote it today, the 16th, rather than the 11th but it was a draft from before...not that it matters)

Ah, yes, April, the month of fools. This is a picture of what I thought was probably the last smile of mine for April as hours later reality punched me in the face. I scattered my salary across Dubai Mall like the ashes of someone you thought couldn't die fast enough into the Atlantic Sea. Kiddos, my wallet is so badly bruised that the office was in shock yesterday to see me join them in the kitchen with a cup of noodles that I pulled from my new office drawer stash - 'you finally caught on; life in Abu Dhabi is deceptively expensive. Welcome!' Hey, well at least I make broke look good with my caged stilettos, studded Zara jacket, H&M skinnies with leather knees and shameless copy of the Wang/Farrow sunglasses; cuppa noodles never looked this sexy.

To put salt on the rim and a lemon wedge on top of that, The Fox and I have been apartment hunting - yes, I know; it's way too soon. We should at least have a pregnancy scare first haha. But what can I say? For me, 2010 is all about going with my gut feeling. In fact, we visited one seriously perfect candidate last night and I have to say, it literally hurts my heart the way they go about leasing these things here. You're expected to pay the full year up front. I imagine that right now you're grabbing your pockets and wincing the way guys tense up and pass a hand near their crotch when something really bad happens to a character's penis in a movie. Maybe, since this blog is starting to gain a lot more interest, I should get you guys to sign a petition for me to get it down to at least 4 payments a year. Seal that with a kiss, et voila. I'm adorable enough to get away with it, right? We'll see; because the way I've sort of quietly nudged this topic into family dinner conversation, the parental unit is not at all pleased and I may have to take matters into my own hands.

Also, since I can't own a Mercedes G-Class Off-roader (although technically I can own anything I say I can, says my hypnotherapist) another thing I could see myself spending a small fortune on this year is a Jeep Wrangler Sport in Rescue Green, which for some reason has been conveniently presenting itself all over town these last couple weeks. I hailed one once like a cab just to see if my mind was powerful enough yet that it would stop, eject its passenger, ever so slightly recline the seat to suit and start playing Empire of the Sun. But no, not yet; my mind still has a long way to go.

No more weekly quirky nail colour applications from my lovely Filipino gal pals next door.

As if I didn't feel milked already, I now have an udder on my head; a souvenir from my brother who just made his first trip to Turkey. He's very pleased with himself too. He's going away to college soon in Canada and I felt that if I bought him an iPod nano (he's never owned an MP3 Player and we've already hit 2010) that I would get something really great back in return for my selfless act. I got udders. But I jest; I didn't expect anything major back from him; from the forces that be, maybe. Ever since I started doing hypnotherapy, I've realised something very simple about the world and the energy we share in it. Think of a revolving clothesline with clean and dirty laundry on it. The more clean clothes I put out on it to dry, the more dry, clean clothes than dirty should come back around on it to me. And if dirty laundry is coming round the bend, I don't have to pick it up; it's my choice what I decide to gather and put out. I think that's the best way to describe it.

I could probably call my life right now by the same title but no unfair moment lasts forever. Unfair is a new magazine in Abu Dhabi that's actually based in Paris, and I was thinking of sending over my CV just for the hell of it, as it's fashion and all and at the moment I write about everything from the best nurseries in the city to where you can sample camel pizza. Don't get me wrong, I love my job to bits and pieces but it would be nice to get that one step closer to the perfect scenario; and as you're probably aware, perfect scenario for me means making a living writing while being comfortably seated at one of the best tables in fashion heaven. So instead of seeking outside help to achieve this, I threw some freshly washed linens onto the clothesline. I proposed a fashion section to my editorial team and it looks like...*cue Travis Barker on the drums*...I am now head of fashion at our magazine! So much to do to prepare! So much to wear and to see worn!

What's more is I am supposed to be throwing my first sale event next month - as frequent readers may already know, I've been investing a little money into rounding up some unique and cute pieces I find on my travels (and in obscure shops around town) for my own mini business and it's been going really well. But as the deadline draws nearer, I don't think I've gathered enough for a full wine and cheese event so I may just do some wardrobe spring cleaning and sell a few items secondhand as well. A studio apartment simply won't be able to hold all this clothes anyway.


And then here's me in a magazine itself! Kind of beyond embarassing but it's funny because in the photo we can see my new Samsung Corby mobile phone which was stolen that very same day on my way home from work (I'm pretty sure this was in April too). I bought it 6 days before that. Now because my hypnotherapist has been diligently implanting positive thoughts into my mind as I sit in the deepest darkest depths of it in search of The Uber Kara, prior to sessions I would've said 'FUCK MY LIFE' or sung 'More Money, More Problems' then holed up in my room with a bottle from my parent's cabinet and put myself to sleep to some Doom Metal. But I don't believe in saying things like this anymore because believe me, it really is mind over matter and so far, despite all this, somehow my life has been going amazingly.


So what's on the agenda for today? I've already foolishly decided against Muay Thai this morning and my body (which has been very keen to become Lady Gaga's recently) is not pleased for the break in the slightest, so up next (if The Fox will take my calls) is some big beach party on another island just off Abu Dhabi. My friend the English Russian lives on a boat and so he might be taking a couple of folks over, feeding us, boozing us up and entertaining us with silly BDSM jokes first though, which the party promoters aren't! I know; I've already given myself a pat on the back for choosing the right friends!

JUST A LITTLE BIT TAINTED

It fucking sucks how addictive tattooing is.

Which one should I get?

My money's on 'wholeness'

More from me another day.

X

YOU SHOULD BE AFRAID OF WHAT I'M GONNA DO NEXT

TWO THINGS BEFORE I RUSH TO WORK (TO INTERVIEW A BOLLYWOOD STAR I USED TO CRUSH ON AT 11) :

MUSIC VIDEO STUCK IN MY HEAD - FUCK.ME.

SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD. LOVE.LY.

SONG FOR A FUTURE GENERATION

That's Karl Lagerfeld ruining my life for me. Price on Request.

I've actually been looking into buying some fancy headphones before leaving here. But I think my wallet and I will be sticking to Skullcandy.

GLIDING ON A HEARTBEAT, STIRRING UP A CROWD

This is Felix Cane, an Australian Pole Dance World 2009 winner who now lives in Las Vegas working with Cirque du Soleil's 'Zumanity'.

Damn. And I already had so many other goals on my list. And it's not like they were normal either (Dune Bashing? Shibari/Kinbaku?)

And her boots coincidentally resemble the style of the hot fuckers I just posted. I think hers' trump though.

MY GOODNESS IS STRONG, AND IT'S STRONGER LAYING DOWN

Panda, while you were away, I've been finding all these ridic pictures of me that I don't recall, like this, and like the ones on your digital SLR of me sleeping the night I got here. I love you and I'll get you.

SHE SAID I'VE REACHED ANOTHER ADOLESCENT MONSOON

Yes I did, and I told you I would. Summer Ball. I came. I saw. I got punched in the nose. And that was a week after I had it done. Gorgeous mess doesn't even cover it.

A GREAT BIG EMPTY SCENIC THING

So if I wasn't tired of my friends and family bitching about my no-show antics for graduation in July, I wouldn't be attending this event. How embarassing...

I mean, Sugababes? Yeah. I'll be 'making an appearance' at our summer ball this year with its exorbitant 50 quid tickets. Lucky for me, I don't have to spend a penny more on wardrobe for it as when I got back a suitcase of my stuff from a friend's a couple weeks ago I found an old dress stuffed in it that I bought at an Oasis sale years back when I hadn't yet banned myself from West End shopping. A lot's changed since first year. Now I have to ban myself from East end shopping. Anyways, a little help?

WHICH BAG?

WHICH SHOES? (And no Becks; a $75 shoe from Macy's and a £12 one from Primark are not the same thing despite slight similarities. VERY slight.)
*might change the head gear for a top hat because le Vampyre said he's gonna wear his.
* fuck, I can't believe I posted this. I am soo playful and shit right now and am putting wayyy too much effort into this. I think it's because I plan to leave the country the week after and this has kind of taken over as my graduation ceremony. Cut me some slack. I'm not crying.

THE ONLY DAY OF THE YEAR THAT WOULD MAKE YOU A POSSIBILITY

Gufram's Dark Lady Sofa. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before but either way I stumbled upon it again while flipping through an old mag, recovering from a night of excess Echo Falls with the girls at Beck's mom's 'pad' near Bond Street. I'm not sure I would actually want this for my home though...but I just had to post something, didn't I? I haven't seen you since Friday!

SO YEAH! IT'S ME! I'M BACK!

Okay so...finally, April's gonna fuck itself. That was THE most harrowing month all fucking year for me. I sit here as ruffled truth that it is possible to do 936.666 hours of work in a month. but allow me to add a couple more onto that as it ain't fuckin' over yet. My last major university deadline EVER is due tomorrow, and of course much bacchanal must be had afterward, so ruffled, blogging, and late spring cleaning I might be, but a research portfolio, three chapters of a novel, a covering letter to a publishing house, a synopsis, chapter and character breakdown and a 2,500 word essay must appear before me by then.

In other news, yesterday was my last day at the magazine I was interning at. I had such a great two months there, and never even felt the need to call in sick out of sheer boredom of the day's tasks ahead, as previously done with other magazines (truth hurts). I also took away a new friend, amazing contacts, a couple of freebies here and there from reviewing stuff and attending press events, a pretty card signed by everyone including people who didn't even know my name, a box of Green and Black's organic chocolate, some cash and orchids. They told me the flowers will last up to two months. Not in my company, they won't. But it's nice. I've only ever gotten flowers once before this from my boyfriend. The cash has immediately gone towards my California summer and sits in full-on lotus pose in my savings account. However, when I got home and sat gobbling a fat pasta salad while pressing my hair before heading to the Black Knave/Drama magazine party, I got that much-awaited email from Dazed and Confused, asking me if I could start tomorrow for a week. I had to decline due to this academic business, but am now on file for future freelance positions; along with everybody else who was lined up outside the mag party, I bet.

We didn't end up staying at the party though. After Fi and I took turns crossing the street to the nearest pub to down shots or collect Coronas, waiting in line for more than 30 mins. seemed beneath us so we met Becks in Bond Street and got wasted at her mom's abandoned flat, grateful that we were no longer in the presence of pretentious company sporting half shaved heads, and people who befriended us and then sprinted off to lick the soles of the magazine's cohorts leaving us stranded in line. I REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, which, in itself, is sad. Fi ran into a friend who worked for the London Paper on the celebrity buzz. She was heading off because the paps told her there was no one of note inside. So obviously, we weren't in there.

After much discussion on Beck's naked photoshoots (and other bodily matters including breast cancer via deoderant and whether sleeping sans underwear was the most obvious option), possible outfit ideas for the next Hoodoo Voodoo, mapping out plans to form an unstoppable coalition of 3 and host party nights, yard/car boot sales and form our own magazine, all this and more with a backdrop of Siouxsie and the Banshees radio (which I am pleased to know made Fi sway like an emphatic church worshipper about to be touched by the holy ghost, because I suggested it), we went to bed with plans to breakfast in the neighbouring pleasantries of the oxford street area the next day, which we shabbily did. We plan to try it again, but with better clothes and bigger wallets, at Selfridges some time this month.

As for now, my laundry needs transferring before the unwashed miscreants on campus get a hold of it and dump it to the side. After that, word counts, bibliographies, citations, pristine grammar et al. Tomorrow I'm getting more 'fuck me' pills to last me through the summer! Then handing in my work, easing myself into an evening of inebriation with le Vampyre, dropping in for a mexican dinner for my friend's birthday, then rushing back home to shove my breasts into my flourescent green bikini top because this week's sorry excuse for a college party's theme is 'Life's a Beach!' (well that was what I may have called it- it's actually simply 'Beach Party' - that should give you the general idea...). Is this good enough for a comeback post?

SOMETIMES I JUST DON'T WANNA STAY HERE AND WAIT FOR A WONDER

bored. bored. bored. and might I add, to tears!

And yet I still picked it up after work today. I needed something in my hands. Tube journeys longer than an hour can be vicious, you know?

And now War is like 'oh we're broke as jokes so we're moving from a bi-monthly to a quarterly; have your say. what do you think?' WHAT DO I THINK?! Don't give me a survey; give me a magazine (yes, pdf's are fine until you get a firm footing). I like you! I want to write for you and make money off of you! We were going to be a team! We were going to knock those botox bitch monthlies out of the park! Why'd you do it? You show up with all this hedonistic glossy glory, all tempting me and shit, and you got all up in there. And now it's like...you're like...pulling out at the wrong time, yuh know? 3 times a year? Gosh damn!

In that case, I'm beyond happy that this came in the mail for me today.

Also, I was going to surprise my friend with the first ever copy of the Love mag because she had been having a 'desperately seeking' moment with it and was in shambles at the fact that SOME PEOPLE are privileged enough to have free copies shipped to them by Conde Nast crew (check my friend's comments to see who lol), but I found out that she got one today anyway so I will be selling that as well next month in case you missed out on it and want to start a collection. It's an awfully good mag (Pam Hogg, Iggy Pop, gorgeous malnourished punk kid models in Rob London skin tight catsuits et al). I can't be assed to start collecting it yearly because I'll be all over the world once June hits (yeah, I know, that sounded very asshole-ish but it's only the truth - L.A., Abu Dhabi and Trinidad..possibly NY along the way).

Just came back from a nibble with Mistress Ivy. This is a munch. So you can guess what a nibble is...Very nice bunch. Is anyone going to the Crimson launch?

WELL NO HOLES BARRED, WATCH YOUR TOES, LOOK OUT BABY, EVERYTHING GOES

In an attempt to avoid productivity, I made this for you to chill out with this Sunday! I'm proud of it. I mean yeah, it's random as fuck and doesn't flow well but all you have to do is shuffle it and remember that it's the thought that counts.

Somebody please distract me from myself. There's so much shit to be done.

THAT'S THE WAY I LIKE IT BABY, I DON'T WANNA LIVE FOREVER

Vintage. £12. Brick Lane. These days I love quirky pieces that are so wrong they become so right. This is hideous. It's my favourite. As it's reminiscent of a coffin, I feel like Emily Dickinson of the 21st Century; courting death and shit. All I need now is a pair of brothel creepers. Ji Kim (OF COURSE) has the creepers (customized) and THE perfect dress for my bag. I swear I fall more and more in love with that woman every time I visit.

Speaking of creepers, check out these fuckin' MAD Rupert Sanderson renditions that I just found by accident:

...oh for just over 500 quid.

Last night was interesting. I had a feeling it would be one of those nights...
-was introduced to this Norweigan guy who is now waiting for my boyfriend and I to split up

-ran into this girl in the bathroom queue who said she remembered me from a reading I did of one of my short stories. Said it was amazing, that she's a fan, and while we twisted our legs together in pelvic despair, we discussed my work in great depth. Interesting...

-ran into my yoga/ex boxing/ex self defence teacher, who by night is a university party bouncer/security man person thing, and we discussed what 'being on a break with your boyfriend' really meant, and how well I executed my shoulder stand. Interesting...

-listened to another friend try to explain to me rather scientifically how lovely I was, then hobbled around with his drunk weight on one shoulder, which then resulted in him throwing me to the ground. Then profuse, severe apologies with too many kisses, and me running away, and bouncer man friend yogi guy bounding over and going, 'say the word and I'll kick him out!'. Well cool, but...interesting...

-coming home and finding that my first preteen boyfriend Kermit has messaged me and is off to Trinidad and Tobago for Spring Break and he and his sister are playing it so down and out that they're sleeping in a car. And I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS! OH MY GOD! YOU ARE A WHITE TOURIST FROM MARYLAND, DUDE! Anyways, he has some of my friends' numbers (please take care of him).

I am napping.

I'VE BEEN TRYING HARD TO DO WHAT'S RIGHT, BUT YOU KNOW I COULD STAY HERE ALL NIGHT

And now the all-nighter can commence. (I love how my Brita container of water is behind the killer caffeine product)

This country is so jacked. I mean, who shuts Starbucks at half 7? I am just about waking up then.

Employee: Ah you made it. We thought you weren't coming. You're very late.
Me: Yeah, I know. I was freaking out on the bus, like 'Nooo they're gonna close the door in my face!'
Employee: Oh, no. We were waiting for you. Grande Iced Chai Tea Latte?
Me: Make it a venti, actually.
Employee: Look at you! Upgrading and stuff.
Me: ha...

LOSER!!!!!

Sorry, I love pictures of piles of books. These are piles of stuff I am currently dealing with this month.

Tonight on the agenda:

-write up Kate Cusack interview
-work on magazine article proposal for Business of Writing class
-work on book proposal letter for Developing the Novel 2 class
-read some more of 'Me and My Slaves' and make notes for review for Skin Two
-Edit and polish up review of 'Secret Identity: The Fetish Art of Superman's Co-Creator Joe Shuster' for Skin Two
-re-draft chapters 2 and 3 of novel

Whatever else:
-I TOTALLY SAW YOU RIFLING THROUGH MY KITCHEN CUPBOARDS, BITCH!

-I had a really vivid nightmare of one of my oldest friends telling me my boyf cheated on me with her. So vivid, even after I woke up I was hating him. Told him about it and actually got teary-eyed. I actually had to remind myself that he had only met her once, at her birthday party at Funky Buddha years ago, and we were with each other all night...and that IT WAS A DREAM!!!

- I am up one pants size while every time I talk to Panda online he is either on his way to the gym or has just come back from it. It makes me look like shit because our couple status is (or was?): Me as the amazingly hot exotic girl with a hard to place accent, him as the short Asian geek who I barely gave a second glance in the beginning. This is probably the only reason I am glad I am not in L.A. with him yet. If it persists, I'll start vomiting in May (just kidding...)

-It's 9pm and I just missed my last chance to eat. Perfect. (just kidding...)

WELL HERE IT COMES, HERE COMES THE NIGHT

Oldie but goodie. Ya, I've been doin' that on a Sunday night; going through old photos. Me (middle) and some friends back home at one of the most over-hyped clubs there called Zen. Intense face, yes. Force fed scotch all night. My friend is a weekend DJ there and, for some reason, visiting home again makes me a celebrity to my friends so they pretty much hook me up. Well, his free drinks card is pretty limited; hence scotch; hence this. And yes, that is my best friend's foot on the countertop.

Some things I am grateful for:

1) Having spare foreign currency in my wallet. Today my card refused to give me any money possibly due to some disturbance in the chip, said the overly informed Tube station assistance lady. Luckily I was stuck in the tourist centre of the world (Piccadilly Circus) so this very nice man behind the counter at the currency exchange totally understood when I shoved 6 US dollars under the glass and said 'Ya. I need to get home.' I laid off on the yuan, dirhams and TT dollars, thinking that a bit much, and just legged it after the next bus with the four warm pound coins in my hand. I guess HSBC missed having me come in to complain all the time. Congratulations guys, you managed to stay un-fucked for... 3 consecutive months? What number card is this I am going to have to order now? 3?

2) Finally acquiring my mom's fuck-you-I-can-have-this-if-I-want-to attitude. So I emailed up Yoga magazine again after their 'prejudiced' rejection and the editor found that impressive so I start Tuesday (I thought that only happened in movies). Panda, I am glad you find that sexy. It's a shame there's nothing we can do about that as the Atlantic Ocean and several other countries render us impossibly distanced on the bed I am imagining.

3) The fact that I didn't get so wasted last night at the Big Chill House that that wasn't my high heel shoe on top of the roof of a bus stop shelter this morning. Cinderella, a Londoner's rendition? When are you blonde drunkorexic hoes going to realise how lovely shoes and a liver are? Bleh, I haven't realised the latter yet. But anyways, point is that wasn't my shoe. I was wearing Vans. (How cool would it be if homegirl followed my blog and I was able to help her find her lone fugly shoe by calling her a blonde drunkorexic hoe?)

4) For candid acquaintances like Leo (cousin Becks' boyfriend). "Do you know how difficult it is to make someone in another country want you so bad for your skills that they feel the need to go through the laborious process of petitioning you for a work visa? Does your boyfriend know that? I don't get it. Why doesn't he just marry you? It's not like you can't get divorced straight afterwards." *shrugs*

OH THIS IS SO REAL

So it's that kind of day today; and might be for the whole week. Great. Instead of doing my shopping yesterday like I should've, I went running off to Haagen Dazs for tiramisu ice cream and watching Chinese New Year fireworks in Central with friends. Now, I am without, save for half a bag of bowtie pasta, some onions and half a jar of veggie tomato pasta sauce. Even the sugar for my tea just wiped out. Anyone care to send me a care package?

MOM: Look how snowy! Don't worry, I'm not a block of ice, thanks to the trusty black Zara fur jacket you gave me for my birthday last month. I'm keeping warm, eating well (until today due to dwindled food supplies) and doing my homework.

PANDA: Wish you were here

Pardon the heavy documentation but this is my first proper snow day, and London's first in something like 18 years. I'm 20. Ha. Half calf-deep, pure-white, University-closing, student-saving snow. It's lovely, but I think I'll keep my snow angels to the bed. Hope you lot are having as good a start to February!

A MESSED UP GENERATION PUT THE PRESSURE ON YOU

Looking for a writing job for my last 6/7/8 months in London. Gumtree at 5:30AM spawns this.


"I am a female who is looking for:-
Dynamic , classic, energetic, diverse, quirky , flourescent, chirpy, bubbly, creative Facebook Friends Wanted
Facebook friends and Buddkies wanted for Email Banter, wall writing picture commenting. I have a few friends on Facebook but they are sooooo boring, rather than communicate, enquire about yr welfare and keep the page enhanced they prefer to join groups and play and upload silly applications.
Looking for writers((male or female aged 25 - 46yrs old) with an edge who can liven up my page.


pls contact me"


Really? sigh...

I've been in a rut these past few days, sleeping til 5pm, forcing myself to hit the sack at midnight to get it sorted out, waking up at 3:21AM EXACTLY every morning and staying up to download more Alice in Chains or read or look for US magazines to apply for as a writer...or blog...and listen to Muslims pray on loud speaker (yup. right on cue). Not to mention I am getting slobby what with all the Christmas food, alcohol and bad TV (I don't have/watch TV in London). It's the weirdest thing. Once the words 'holiday' or 'semester break' or 'vacation' hit my eardrums, it's like I completely shut down. Nothing works. And I feel like nothing HAS to work. Because I'm on vacation. But then on the other hand, being unproductive and not churning out cool writing makes me utterly depressed. But sleep! Oh...sleep...is oh so goooooddd. I just can't win. Fuck.


But tonight/this morning, I am working. My novel is back in full swing. Its body parts seem to be functioning so far. I'm excited to see what tricks I can make it do next. And I am hoping I can have it finished by the end of 2009. I'm also thinking that when the shit I've been working on these past couple months gets put up in their respective published places I will start a professional page on here. Maybe someone high up who enjoys reading inane blog postings in their very lacking spare time will pick me up. It's been said you shouldn't mix business with pleasure, but I'm a writer, so technically I'm meant to do so or else I would suck.

After I read a significant number of pages in this book and find some worthy essay quotes, I'm going to watch bad TV until the sun says I can come out now, then I'm going to play tennis with my mom and dad. Hope you guys are having a good holiday.

P.S. I also wanted to tell you that I might plan to do a reading list and movie list as a 2009 present from me to you; sort of like the 50 or 100(depending on time) books and films I think are worth your attention before the end of next year. Maybe.

JESUS WALKS WITH ME

PANDA!!! Look at this. Aren't we awesome for finding a $3 version...which I just gave to my awesome-ass lecturer for Christmas because she wouldn't stop ogling it. Can you secure me another one? I can't imagine the ridonculous prices people are allowing other people to charge for these things, but please, I beg of you, if you are to have one fashion resolution this year, make it to look for your ultimate accessories a little harder than just on the runway or style.com. For example, those can tops on chains that people actually aren't making themselves. How much does a can of coke cost?? Seriously...

NOVEMBER IS ALL THAT STUFF FROM A MILLIONS

This weekend I moved all my shit into my flat, cleaned and sorted out my room, watched the movie above for research purposes, donated pubes to a friend's in-the-works poetry/art project (and will continue to do so til about mid-december), bought Panda a Christmas present that I'll have to mail him soon, did a teensy bit of Primark perusing and purchasing as a reward, went to a private member's BDSM club and discovered some really interesting shit, had a couple drinks and a laugh with some really interesting and fun people who I will be meeting up later this week for a drink, for the LAM (London Alternative Market) and after party, and for a workshop in Bondage put on by Bondage conoisseur Chanta Rose. I have been shortlisting people's creative entries for a Creative Writing Competition our school's putting on that I'm helping out with, entered two of my own pieces, went to see Tacit Theatre's latest production called Scaramouche Jones that I got into for free because I agreed to be the press and review it for their website, got piss drunk at the producer's flat and spent the night there, scrambled home early the next day to write an article on cocktails for Societe Magazine that was due the night before (but which since it's a mag based in the US, I just about made the deadline, being 8 hours ahead), searched in vain for a secondhand copy of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress which I am supposed to read for tomorrow's class but for which I will just have to use my memory (read it in my pre-teens) and keep very quiet, bought a book on Buddhism and one on Hinduism and made very tasty risotto.

And now I have the flu. But I wrote this because I felt bad that my absence has approached the 7-day mark, and I still want you to read me. But I'm afraid, this week is going to be just as hectic as the last so posts will remain sporadic. I've got about 3 articles due this week, more competition entries to shortlist, class, work experience at Skin Two, severe reading, a fake birthday party to plan and the bizarre list goes meandering on, and on, like the fucking yellow brick road. So have a look at the blogs on my list, will you, until I return next.

I THINK THAT STATE PATROL CAR'S STILL BEHIND

[Epicly Later'd]

Excited for this. Graduation. Moving to Cali. Happy Hippie Poverty. I promise to be the best bum I can be.

On another note, while I got all dolled up and met some friends for an outstanding Chav rendition of Othello at the Lyric theatre, (and Jen is gonna choke) MOTORHEAD was playing across the street!!! I was wondering why the sudden barrage of long-haired, dazed, leather-jacketed people at Hammersmith tube station. Seriously. My brain....