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Blog Posts
A very specific literary genre
Wandered over to Maud's to cut fabric for a skirt and have a chat - I really like having a friend within walking distance, and specifically Maud, which is BRILLIANT. Serendiptiously exactly the right amount of fabric for the skirt.
Having wildly uncontrollable Maurice feels which I intend to wallow in because fuck you you're not my real dad. I was going to attempt another proper LJ post but it would just be whingeaggedon: the pervert edition, and I think we've had enough of my self-pity for this week.
About half-way through Master of Reality by John Darnielle (thank you, schiarire!) but thinking I might need to take a break as it's making me uncomfortable in terms of striking too many chords. It's about a dude who is dumped in a mental hospital as a teenager, and that would be enough already but he's talking about how angry he was 10 years later (SOUNDS FAMILIAR) and is feelings about how it didn't have to happen, and that's upsetting me because it's a lot easier to think that CC and everything about those five years was inevitable and unavoidable and just something that had to happen, than it is to think that it didn't have to happen, that it was somehow unjust, that I didn't bring it on myself at all and that I was just being got rid of because my mother felt she'd earned some peace and quiet.
Anyrate, I can't go around probing the foundation of a rather unstable personality. I know the whole thing is built over a mineshaft of acute fury and sadness and all the rest of it, I can't poke it and risk everything falling into the hole. GET BACK UNDER THE CARPET.
A very specific literary genre
Wandered over to Maud's to cut fabric for a skirt and have a chat - I really like having a friend within walking distance, and specifically Maud, which is BRILLIANT. Serendiptiously exactly the right amount of fabric for the skirt.
Having wildly uncontrollable Maurice feels which I intend to wallow in because fuck you you're not my real dad. I was going to attempt another proper LJ post but it would just be whingeaggedon: the pervert edition, and I think we've had enough of my self-pity for this week.
About half-way through Master of Reality by John Darnielle (thank you, schiarire!) but thinking I might need to take a break as it's making me uncomfortable in terms of striking too many chords. It's about a dude who is dumped in a mental hospital as a teenager, and that would be enough already but he's talking about how angry he was 10 years later (SOUNDS FAMILIAR) and is feelings about how it didn't have to happen, and that's upsetting me because it's a lot easier to think that CC and everything about those five years was inevitable and unavoidable and just something that had to happen, than it is to think that it didn't have to happen, that it was somehow unjust, that I didn't bring it on myself at all and that I was just being got rid of because my mother felt she'd earned some peace and quiet.
Anyrate, I can't go around probing the foundation of a rather unstable personality. I know the whole thing is built over a mineshaft of acute fury and sadness and all the rest of it, I can't poke it and risk everything falling into the hole. GET BACK UNDER THE CARPET.