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"heard from the tv of the latest bombings..."
Forgive me this, but I kinda need to write about it. I didn't get to sleep til late (I was hanging out in Oxfam with Freaky Rob) and then Kate called me this morning and told me loads of bombs had gone off in London and to go watch the tv. I don't know. I get really upset about this kind of thing. It upsets me really easily. So I got upset then when I was watching the tv. General dispair. My mum called. I know it's not my city, and to be honest, I don't know London, but this is about as personal a trauma to everyone as 9/11 and that's really changed shit.
Seems the Londoners took it on the chin though. It was weird, the difference between the coverage today and the Twin Towers stuff. I just get really angry. I think, at my age, it's better to be angry than scared. I think it's a cause, you know? I guess it's a day after Live8 and as attrocious as most of that was the timing was... poetic. Especially looking at the Evening Print of the papers sitting with this mornings head lines of the Olympic Celebrations in London. Still, I'm at a loss to understand any of it.
Like I say, not my city. But still. People are people. It's one of those days I want to curl up with someone becuase I need a little sleep, a little strength before I can go on fighting the world. There was a frission in the air. People were just sitting about with their friends all day. Not talking about it, not worried, but it's that thing where people pull together after strange times. So - I went and listened to the Power of Orange Knicers and got thinking about some things I might write and went and hung with Kate in the city for the day. And tonight? God knows what I'll be doing. I need a job and Dublin's getting lonesome.
"Can somebody tell me now, who is this terrorist?"
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I suppose it's time to get back to being self-involved and tortured. I'm such a waster at this stage. It's not even funny. I never go home, I never spend my time, I don't write. I just smoke cigarettes, and I don't even do that with panatch. Though people keep complimenting me on my hair and asking where I got it done. It was my own two day masterpiece. But sadly, beneath this stylist style visage my head is like a ham and cheese volevont waiting to explode.
I should stop torturing me and get a job and then I would actually be fabulous, not just masquerading as fabulous. I havn't even thought about preparing for this reading I've to do. In fact, I'm probably going to go home and watch Big Brother and fuck up royally. I wonder if they'll tell the housemates about the bombing, like, I mean, if their families weren't all right. I guess if you'd really wanted to test the nation you could have bombed the house - the tv would be empty as.
I dream of fairy wings and schoolboy calves on a man of 21. My dreams are getting twisted. Hell, my fucking life is. But that's cool. So long as I don't die. And hey, I'm getting that wolf tooth bracelet thing from ebay so life is darling. Though I feel kind of bad becuase I just realised that the wolves probably were hunted down and had to suffer and are probably endangered and I'm probably supporting poaching or some such thing. Hm. Too late now though.
I've turned my phone off. Today is a day of running away from things. It makes them easier to ignore.
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Ah, come lonesome night. I still think I should be wrapped in bed with someone tonight. And not just any someone. *sigh, torture*
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drip's journal