i am made so wrong
only my legs are strong
naked like an angel
naked wasted angel...

so a nice stony hit to get us all in the mood. am getting rather annoyed of the badger always being delayed cos of comms officer inadequacy and disorganisation. bring back george morris thats all i can say.

so today was spent sorting out those issues and working. the meeting house is THE place to work. tea just outside, an easy access toilet and easy smokage.purrfect. got in a good 4 hours wit beth which sounds dirtier than it was. talking of which in my seminar today which i made again, thats twice in a row must be a record - garth twa was talking bout this film him and paul are gonna make on how to behave in a film class. by showing how not to behave. i think i get to be a cannibal in it whicvh woukd be pretty cool. id make a badass cannibal.

so also there was a no sex thing and maybe if im v well behave i get to demonstrate this with beth. and to think i was close to just chloroforming her and dragging her back to my cave. hurrah.

i still feel a bit precarious. precarious is very close to precious. maybe i am just on the edge of preciousness...

when everyone around u throws choices at you all the time it seems like there are no choices.

i keep being pushed to make choices between my obligations and things i want to do. and i dont see it as wrong that i always have to chose my obligations. but its like being beaten up. i get made to feel guilty or inadequate in some way if i dont just say yeah fuck it lets just emigrate.

you know.

i think ive got too entangled up in this whole pulse thing. im like the parent that left, being brought in by the pther parent and the kid to mediate, a situation i dont appreciate but am finding it hard to extricate myself from..

am going back to my adolescence. listening to hole and pearl jam and man you know its good even tho it says something really fuicking terrible about the state of things.

i have decided to launch a vendetta against the uni post office. they wouldnt give me a piece of sellotape. a piece, not a roll mind you. i say
hi id like a first class stamp please. and a piece of sellotape
evil bitch woman: thats 28p and we dont do sellotape
me:i think uv misunderstood me, i dont want to buy a roll of sellotape i just want a piece
ebw; we dont do sellotape
me:no, i just want a piece
ebw: look, we dont have any sellotape here
me (looks over to the man behind the counter next to her who is sellotaping up a package) um.. he has sellotape
ebw: why dont u ask him then
(i move ovber to the man)
me: hi can i have a piece of sellotape pls
him: no we dont do sellotape
me: no i just want a piece not a roll
him (shouts) we only do sellotape on special delivery packages!!

what a cunt. its like it costs less than a penny to tape up my sodding envelope. so i vote we flash mob the fuckers.

whos with me?

and in other news, met rowan again and apologised for party behaviour-he thought i was annoyed with him cos i thought he was hitting on me, i just thought hed been rude. so we explained and turned out that we might know each other - in that i said he looked like sam and it turned out hes like sams best mate. weird.

i told my tutor my dissertation on dada and situationists is gonna be branded onto a cow, or filmed in mime. he seemed really keen. i tried to get him to giv me the marks just for the idea, but he said that that was conceptual art and not dadaism so he couldnt.
o well.

i might make it out of pasta...

what a lovely housewarming party we had! i think it was the first one in any house of mine that ive truly enjoyed all the way thru. despite running off to my room and playing piano for like an hour. but that was your fault. you asked me to.

so... discussions on poetry with dave and simon and andrew, all new but quite exciting, some benoir loving, winey hands and beery breast (or was it the other way round?) and a rota of people crashing out on my bed (hi kate and pickles).

weirdest occurrence of the night: in the act of kicking out some lairies it turns out i smoked with one of them (hi other simon) when i was 14 and hanging out with nick et al in london. then he had long hair and a hawaian shirt. i told him i think i had fancied him. he told me he thought he had fancied me. it was quite odd.

so it was a beautiful night which ran and ran and ran and thanks for the smiths and the swordfighting and the poetry guys and come back any time.

so..back to the now. which is already the then. gosh isnt time crazy.

staving off a nervous breakdown by skipping spanish class in order to get out reading for the essay for next week i was told about today, and to write the album review (dead brothers arrived chiz chiz) that was in for this afternoon.

wonder if this means ill never be fluent...

rachel wrote me a poem that i think is inspired by something we spoke about at the party: writing about emotions. i feel somewhat inadequate now. its too fucking good. and blatantly shes gonna read this (hi rach) and think im having a go but im not. im just aware suddenly of my own inadequacy. and petty jealousy. i showed it to joel and he went crazy, asked for her number, wants to print it etc. i thought hed cum in his pants.

feeling i should withdraw my submissions. ive never made anyone cum with my poetry.

rightyho enough of that its been fun but now its done and im o so keen to see if the ntl mans finally been.

for xmas im gonna ask santa for a washing machine.

hello world
gosh what a lovely background i have! purrr. has made me quite happy. thanks to the background pixie. and now im considering the possibilitys of hoverboards like in thundercats yknow what wilykit/kat had...

so yeah somehow managed to get a badger out and done even tho i had to stay well late on thurs to do it. hugely controversial issue heh heh well i have to annoy people somehow i guess.

plan b stuff is trotting along nicely also, am quite excited about the prospect of a dead brothers album to review, and rough trade sending me some jeffrey lewis (and detroit cobras? who knows...)

so london was...well, london. im not sure therell ever be a suitable adjective to describe london. it just is, its a self contained sel perpetuating entity.

went to a couple of talks, one on false culture divides with speakers from palestine, israel, lebanon and iraq, and one on climate change and one on moments of excess. missed the schnews party would you believe, by falling asleep on my bedroom floor right next to the bed. grrr. even had a ticket. even bought it that day!

the demo was okay peaceful and not too long. i hate bastard police taking pics of me tho, its not that ive done anything i just resent that assumption of guilt, that u have or will do somethiong. that they need your face on file.

ran into justin, zoe, peter in the black bloc which was nice, and bizarrely it turned out that the ellie joel was squatting with for the weekend was the ellie i know. weird coincidence....

had quite a blag-filled friday, the corporation in the morning at the dukes with beth, followed by electrelane in the evening with grilly and me julie, vip and free booze all night. was pretty fine. and i even managed to palm off reviewing the events onto beth and grilly (thanks guys).

this left only a meagre couple of hours in the afternoon to do my reading for yesterdays presentation so it overlapped onto the esf trainjourneys.quite an amusing presentation actually. i based my whole argument - on can the subaltern speak, with regards to this novel kanthapura - on the idea that the answer was yes as the author, raja rao, was a woman.

whats the first question when i finish? 'wasn't raja rao a man?' o yes. apparently so. cue major backtracking and a huge amount of embarressment. i think im doing well.

house party at ours saturday do come along it will be at least diverting. jim wants it to be fancydress, what do u want it to be?

my mums coming on thursday. i might even have a washing machine thursday. mummy and clean clothes. it doesnt get much better.
jess
x

o god im so tired. still at the office and have been here all fucking day.

so i should apologise to anyone who read grillys blog and of course grilly. i am petty and fallible. and i hate the green. hate it. but yes i am sorry and the post is off and i feel bad even tho none of you read it..

im off to drive home in the rain and have dinner with rach and grilly.yum. tis also my last night with joel before he offs to the esf. ok so its only a couple of days without him but hey it seems a sad event.

here is a nicer happier poem.

8 oct/brighton

in the halflight
in the flickering of candles
the smell of jasmine
i wait for you.
steam writhes from my limbs
coiling and caressing.
the discarded crossword
uncompleted
drowns in the overflow.
12 across and 17 down
flail pleading for assistance.
my voluptuous repose
mocks them.
i am thinking about you
dear one
and the possibilities
within the soporific water.

to be honest this blog would be longer but the abusive lurid green some bastard changed my font colour to sways me against it. i dont want you guys to suffer to read my words. and i know, looking at the last post was painful.

so anyhoo the last few days have seen student activism at niks, a lot of cowleying, a lot of sleep and yet not enough sleep, the weird addiction of spaced, my first spanish class, and another brekkie with everett.

this week he made me toast. rokka.

today was second badger day with not much happening yesterday. so like 20 people all in here trying to do their pages all day and not knowing quark and i had to wait 40mins for a bus from everetts to the stn and then for another bus to uni and it was so DAMN STRESSFUL.

but i am calmness personified. the worst thing that happened all day was the violation of my blog. that and stupidly early starts. everett is an insomniac every now and then and seems to like to really rub in his early morningness.

kate and i reached a beautiful amicable complete moment of understanding in motu the other day. i am so awed by her beauty. she sent me a scented candle and a tbag from japan last week when she heard i was ill. it doesnt get much better than that.

spanish class taught me the word for watch - reloj - and the word for cup - taza - but not much more. tis all just to refresh my memory but it seems a pretty expensive confidence booster. i felt like a bit of a geek calling out the answers.

the expense of getting films developed is my new gripe, and i am putting forward a motion to table an early day mtion that the gov offers grants for developing. support can be posted in the comments section. it costs so much i still havent got round to developing my morocco fotos cos i havent the heart to inflict that on my bank account.

lovely nighttime drive last night and back in time to sort out nik and cecilias accomodation for beyond the esf and broadband for our house.

nick caves new album is mine mwahahaha and soon i will have my grubby fingers on so much more. so much much more.

here is a piece of poetry. i have never put any up before. this is in response to rachels comment. i dont think itll look very good green tho, and my line spacings will get fucked up. anyway...


1/0ct/brighton

again
torn in two
limbs rent
by unseen horses
hooves of steel
that punish my flesh.

the grit is in my teeth
my heart
forcefed and fat
draining in halves.

between you
equine terrors
where is there
room for me?

in the last ebb
of breath
the final wending
path of blood.
in the soul-sigh
and the half-cry.

okay so get this. everett true phones me up (yes, read that again mofo) and says hey come in for a chat - now that is beths doing the little vixen. shes dropped that she might have a mate who wants to intern at his new mag, plan b, and hes droppped that hes interested. so far so surreal.

great i say, when?
how bout this afternoon?
no no im far to busy (and ill). tomorrow after my 9am seminar?
no i have meetings.
well...i could come before but that seems a bit extreme.
yes, extreme.

so how in gods name did i wind up agreeing to get to his house for 7:30am??! this after a lousy hour of cough-broken sleep, my lungs attempting to go awol through my nose and i tellya, it hurt like fuck.

so there i am up at 6:30 tired like a spent whore trying to drive to his and getting rather lost. i arrive we have coffee. he shows me his milk frother. i act casual. its okay i say. my mum got me one but i never took it out the box.

he susses me. starts asking questions. i chill on his sofa, feet up playing with his cat. somehow, somewhere (possibly by getting him talking and not me?) i impress him. he concludes that i appear very capable and organised (i have missed half of my nine oclock seminar by this point. not so organised) and asks me to come in next week. no, not to intern. to be the assistant editor on the albums section.

'okay' i say.


the health office on campus have an interesting new policy. i know cos i tried to go in and get treatment for my ear infection and noticed a little sign. it tells me that minor injuries are no longer treated at the health office. they recommend you go to a&e. ok. hold on a minute here, lets think about this.

if i have a minor injury, (a sprain?) i go to a&e. if i have a major injury (saw my leg off?)i go to a&e. im starting to get the feeling the health office is defunct.

just stood there staring at the receptionist. just staring. i couldnt fucking hear her properly for one thing. i wanted to explain, say, look i cant sleep i cant hear and my nose is pouring snot. but i just stared, and then turned around and left. i felt broken, truly. i mean they were always inadequate, but at least they pretended...

dinner at rachels yesterday, her house is beautiful as are her housemates.dinner was great, my first non cheese and humous meal for days. yum.

prior to this was being ill, getting drunk at beths with annabel, reading kim, writing poetry, playing piano, and finding that the spanish class i signed up for was over a seminar. grrrr.

there will be no badger this week, my plans of world domination are again thwarted by the inadequacy of the uni/union. forsooth as the prophet said: when the room is rubble and the computers and tables have not yet therein been placed then yay there shall be no badger. as it is written, there may be one next week.

im off to hospital, virtual flowers to the usual address please.
jess

some bastard has sent me a virus that orevents me from replying to emails, to both my personal AND the editorial account. 'come back my friend' it says. yeah, come back here motherfucker and ill show you whats what. thats what. yet another setback to the journalism process... against all odds i shall produce a paper this week. and then i will dominate the world! aha ha ha.

today has been exquisite, chill with nik, gabriel, joel and cecilia, listening to esther sing - heard bout it 5 mins before, a beautiful spontaneous act to go and listen and be at peace to her own music. she is so talented, it must be amazing to have the courage to do that. i want to. maybe i will... adventures by the pond, seeing joe-my-husband, seeing joe-my-non-husband, sadness from the icarus proj and hope at the same time, some juice, some coffee with coops - are all the jobs going to oxbridge grads? and will we ever be good/successful journos? and a tiffin (rarr first of the year)....

my course man has failed to put our 'reader' - how american - into the bookshop so i must go unprepared to the seminar. grrr. but less to read and less to stress.

to mr scruff or not to mr scruff? the posse is heading out tonight, rolling out the wagons and wearing our best sunday hats. a house dinner is called for but i have only a bag of spinach. seemed to be all popeye ate tho and he did pretty well.

it has poured and it has shone. i went to pick up my scooter today and its petrol pipe has a leak so i couldnt drive. grrr. and yet again i say, grrr.

waiting for a lift from harriet the education officer. maybe i should start buying bus singles, i seem to be winging plenty of lifts home this week. a chat with kate looms. we seem to bo9th be uncertain about our desires and our fears. where to from here? i feel a certain absence of light with regards to this. i wish someone could tell me how i feel, how to feel, how to express what i dont know.

suggestions, comments, abuse. type it.

and remember the similarity between fighting and writing. all who write are revolutionaries.

jess
x