Sometimes I am very good at keeping things in: the heat, in my face, which simmers close to the surface of my cheeks, poked down by fixed jaw. The feeling stung, a minute but painful hurt, which hovers hornet-like beneath my belly. And all the feelings: rolling, roiling, crushed against my skull but silenced by lack of hope, lack of empathy, lack of time.
well i didn’t expect to suddenly recall my old tumblr when i opened my laptop just now; to open it up and feel a tugging feeling of satisfaction scrolling through. i just spent a minute, and then thought i’d come on here to share.
i didn’t expect to be met with my 2016 list; to have it remind me, as if i need it, of the crashing, spitting shittiness of this comparative year and how violent and sick and awful it is to be cheated on.
i feel OK for a while and then i don’t. either way, i am throwing all this junk up in the air and hoping that the good stuff will stick
here again. I’m writing this the same way I did last year, with my diary as my prompt. I’ll be throwing it away soon; but right now it fees like a precious thing.
london weekend, february/ conway wekend, october/dublin weekend, november
kim & elly and sarah’s birthday / john’s OAP party (lightbulbs and juanita and understanding what a special human he is)
mindfulness/sleep problems/weekend overtime
marlon james @ HOME/lisbon on 1 june/ jeremih and the EU referendum, the shock of waking up to a frightened and more hateful world on 24 june (120 messages, david cameron’s resignation speech, ralph’s email about changes to the book (‘I never thought this would happen…’)
5-mile bypass run & the pride and glee I saw in my dad
neeks’ & hassans beautiful wedding/katherine & micks wonderful wedding/ screening of they will have to kill us first
center parcs 5-9 august and recording our segment for mum’s video/carcassonne 12-19 august and coming home to mum’s 60th
editing in word, in london, in september/edale and sip/matias aquayo & the desdemonas on a sunday evening and being completely floored by it/ islam chipsy on a friday night & feeling completely woken up by it/write for rights at st margarets/staying with nic & mark & rosie
sheffield/a root canal/coming home one monday night with two small kittens
alton towers/gourd painting and all the christmas things (at alice’s, at the stretford ski place, at work, at home)
I’ve been away from home for eight days. since so much of that time has been spent with g, in a flurry of movement, in the midst of slowly unfurling intimacy, I forgot how it felt to miss something. the day kind of broke apart a few hours ago. he left to explore hexham, and I stayed, cradling tea still hot to the touch. I tested out a new self for a while, one who switched on the radio and stood out on the porch, looking out towards the fields, but then I shut the door and returned to the sofa. I texted my mother, because I had to, because I was far away and the burden of duty felt light all of a sudden, but that wasn’t it, or it wasn’t only it. I was wearing the clean clothes of home and remembering how good it felt to be alone. I lay down on the sofa, ducking out of the sun. Manchester’s noise, its every voice and point of escape, returned to me, remote and indistinct. and with it, the soft, familiar pricks of loneliness – a kindly pain that looked down on me and asked, how could you forget?
I thought about using a writing prompt to help dilute the feelings, concentrated as they were. but I gave up and thought of something else instead.
This morning it was flowers. first, the daffodils: three or four erupting out of the cracked earth near Trafford Park station. then, the streak of happiness I feel catching sight of a brightly coloured bouquet. I saw some last week and imagined them in our living room. me opening the blinds. letting the sunlight let them dazzle.
york in february / thessaloniki and meteora in march / manchester 10k with john et al. / t-shirt screen printing at islington mill / steve roman’s walk / chester zoo / amsterdam with willow / mario kart on the wii u / going to bath in july (jane austen, an open-topped bus & the roman baths) / freedom from torture open evening / feeling crushed and lost for a while
smalldale avenue / uclan on thursdays / #refugeeswelcome in parliament square (light streaming, feet dangling) / dad’s 60th / third eye blind; miguel; chance the rapper