............... Hi.

Monday, June 28

"And I sing and sing of awful things
The pleasure that my sadness brings
As my fingers press onto the strings
In yet another clumsy chord
Haligh, haligh, an awful lie
This weight will now be satisfied
I'm gonna give you only one reply
I know not who I am

But I talk in the mirror
To the stranger that appears
Our conversations are circles
Always one sided
Nothing is clear"

Bright Eyes... damnit.

tap tap tap at 20:58

So, I'm staring the teacher in the eyes, he says to me "You have obvious potential Frankie, what with your creativity and you dedication, I'm sure you will succeed in the media area. This is definitely the time to get involved." I think he's lying. He's not lying. Is he? He is lying. Oh god. I'm a failure.

"Are you Frankie? The Frankie?" Says the teacher. I have no idea who she is, should I? "I've been trying to find out who you are, I've seen your art work."
"Oooh, thanks... thank you." I say shuffling away. What did she mean? She was smiling, that sort of smile liars have? Really I should have asked her what she meant. But I just wanted to run. We're going to York College on Wednesday to look at the foundation course they provide, and what it entails.

tap tap tap at 20:00

Sunday, June 27

Raise the corners of my mouth... he does.

tap tap tap at 18:58

"When the day is done, hope so much your race will be all run,
then you find you jumped the gun, have to go back where you began when the day is done."

tap tap tap at 17:24

Saturday, June 26

It was all so comfortable, this past year. Now everything is changing. I'm probably changing. Oh jesus. I feel like my core has been ripped out and re-filled with plaster, I am a rubber mould. Oliver appears to be going, the fact that all his friends know that he is definatly going, and I thought he might be going is making me paranoid. Was this his plan all along, so what if it was? I'm just a small part of it, even smaller, however, than I ever thought I was. I don't know why I feel so sick, but I can't find the reason - physically - for it. The fairytale has been burnt to cinders.

"Sing me a nursery rhyme to pass the time, while you burn."

tap tap tap at 18:23

Friday, June 25

Who wants to join me in diving into this pool of desire, and drowning?

tap tap tap at 19:11

Thursday, June 24

I have burnt my thumb in an act of violence.

Something of an ________ entry.

This morning I woke freezing in my sleeping bag, a chill whispering on my shoulders. I can't remember how I felt, or the weather, or the colour of my room. I arrived at school, I saw people looking at me, Gillian seemed in good spirits. As soon as I took the stairs to my locker I felt weighted, and I moved very slowly, something was dragging, pulling. A string. The string leads all the way from my house, and clings to me, wraps around my waist. The string on this occasion issued a series of thoughts; I should rewind, go back, start again. Nothing happened for a while, and then before I knew it I was in art.

Last night was horrible, I felt like I could have erupted with vomit at any given moment, between Liechtenstein-reverbs and the gentle sounds of Tom at the piano. It takes evenings such as that to put things in perspective. I really fucked up last year, where was my head? Why can't I get proportions right, why don't I take time? The best piece I created was in a stolen style, hardly noticeable in the hallways of technicolour and collage. I purposefully sat down tonight to address the issue; I've taken a fairly simple photograph (one of my 'Bath' series) and tried to recreate it simply with pencil. I'm appalled by my creation.

Serious thought must occur, I need to take some time getting to know my strengths and weaknesses, though at the moment only the latter are apparent. Eventually thought will progress to University/Career choices, if anyone has any ideas, other than moving to Greenland: let me know.

I feel alienated at school, more than ever. I think it's my own doing. I want to crawl under the table and not come out. I think I will suggest it to Gillian.

Things are calmer now than they were earlier. I was on the verge of tears mid-school, and again just before Oliver left for Nottingham, however I swallowed the burning juices that linger on the back of my throat and in the corner of my eyes and started rushing around in all directions trying to keep up with my ideas/worries. My heart must have been 100 miles an hour by the time I got home. I like the rain.

tap tap tap at 19:45

Tuesday, June 22

Did you fall? Or were you too easy to push?

tap tap tap at 20:22

My new favourite film.

www.the-dreamers.com

tap tap tap at 00:10

Monday, June 21

Parallel worlds.

I find myself stood over the guillotine, and where the head should be there is an arm, stretching, it can't reach the apple. The apple is poisoned, but still glistening in the summer sun, and I am waking to the sounds of soldiers marching on air, a noisy silence.

I find myself irritating, obnoxious, witless, monotonous, relentless, passive, impulsive, hypocritical, indecisive, brain dead, contrived, suspicious, serious, disapointing, an echo/pattern, unavoidable, gutless, insensitive, defensive, spontaneous.

Parallel worlds.

tap tap tap at 23:54

What

WHAT

I

What.

tap tap tap at 23:31

Sunday, June 20

When you think you're not real it's so easy to lose control. I could vanish at any moment.

"Did you miss me? I bet you did."

tap tap tap at 20:54

The kitchen was full of the types I'd avoid on the street, around the edges were the drinkers in the low cut tops, half-way up the stairs were the dying miscreants polluted by the teenage dream.

A group of non-socialites (including my fading self) smoked sheesha in the shed, supped on some stolen vodka, then added herbs to the sheesha and waited patiently for the bicycles and balls to start performing a levitated display. My best friends and I sang our favourite tunes in synchronised mutual love, and danced our feet sore on the vomit coloured carpet. Big fish, little fish, all fall down. Through thin walls I heard the echoes of the 'dead wood', alive with sexual pretence, locked into/onto each other like dirty flies in shit, squealing at their new purchases on the food chain of teenage consumption.

Amongst the "we" there was no Oliver, though eventually I took a sleepy orange-lit car journey to his house and stayed the night, quiet as a mouse.

There's no art in party.

tap tap tap at 16:51

Things really are sweet today, I think sucking on the candy cane for brekfast did the trick.

tap tap tap at 14:39

Saturday, June 19

www.moderntoss.com

tap tap tap at 18:18

Wednesday, June 16

When plans don't go to plan.

I'm left empty stomached and empty hearted sitting amongst children and strangers and flesh and bone in the castle gardens, I ache from the rushing up stone stairs, I suck my dry tongue in my dry mouth with anxiety. I run from seat to seat with book in hand, there might as well not be any words in the book because I am blank as it looks. I fear the man with the water hose; he's watching me, the pensioners; they are watching me, they all talk about that time ten years ago when they sat in the sun and watched the boats slither across the river, but I know that never happened and that they have never been here, not like I have, and the place and time they speak of was a different place all together with similar walls and greens reflecting the summer sun.
Minutes in groups of ten have passed, I can't imagine there are any people about now; only their shapes and their noises remain, I'm too far lost within the nonsense of the book to look and check, I read sentences again and again until they mean exactly what I want them to mean. The draft is creeping up the back of my shirt, I'm facing the viaduct with nothing to obstruct my view of the blood brown river, above this the tinkering orange workmen on the railway track and the bleached sky quietly sleeping on the horizon. My fingers are powdery as I turn the pages, bits of skin settle on the perfectly black characters, so small that they can't be seen, but I know they are there. I realise in this final spot in which I sit (after the exploration of three other benches and walls) I can see no bodies closer to me than perhaps half a mile away, sat at the various cafeterias bordering the spine of the river. I feel completely alone but above this I feel in control, at this singular moment this is my town, just me, right now only I exist alongside the hustling and bustling OAPs that litter the ancient paths pitted between the river and the cliff edges. Anything behind me is nothing, only forward is the truth and I decide what is forward. I'm holding my own little snow-dome of a town, above my head, into the light.

tap tap tap at 12:42

Tuesday, June 15

Look,

Like snow.

tap tap tap at 19:55

Monday, June 14

No no no.

tap tap tap at 12:20

Play by the rules? No.

tap tap tap at 09:48

Sunday, June 13

tap tap tap at 12:53

Saturday, June 12

I want each tooth to explode.
I imagine the grating of the human ivories.

tap tap tap at 22:04

I don't know where do begin when there clearly is no beginning. Something has dissolved, into a liquid that seeps ever faster through my fingers. I look and feel like a fish, in thick tar. Each day cemented between a very distant routine, I don't sleep when I expect to sleep, and I only dream, the dreams take more energy than any activity. Gillian says nothing exists. I dream about Oliver every night since we parted, it has been but 4 days, each dream from the first loses it's spectacular closeness, and slowly I witness the pushing of me further into the walls of his house. It seems like an end of what never was there, when you take away all the routine and the obligatory moments there is but a tunnel of darkness to find yourself in. I've stopped thinking ahead, or backwards or sideways, as if I've never existed until now and those times when I used to slip into a controlling chaos of suicidal error was just the habits of an old best friend. I wish people could see my fears written on my forehead like I can.

tap tap tap at 19:28

Friday, June 11

Sometimes you have to listen to the same tune, again and again, until it means nothing or something to you. I love the way the piano remains so regemented, and I feel no obligation to listen because it's so soft on the ears. If you could taste it it would taste so sweet yet leave such a bitter after taste like over-chewed gum.

I hate my town and I hate the people even more.

tap tap tap at 22:17

Bereavement.

tap tap tap at 12:46

Thursday, June 10

My sleep and waking is haunted.

tap tap tap at 10:04

Wednesday, June 9

I am the Pixie at the back of your eyes.

It's all about eyes nowadays.

tap tap tap at 13:57

Tuesday, June 8

The tears poured and bounced back off the pages of my book last night, I tipped them off into a bottle and thought about collecting them. I should think tears are pretty pure, all salty and thick, irreplaceable.

tap tap tap at 13:13

Monday, June 7

Like when you put your hand in to the fire and.. and you pulled it out and it was soaking wet... your tears just boiled inside... and I didn't want to see you after that, so I covered my eyes with these perspiring fingers... I wish you had burnt on the outside, not from the inside out.

tap tap tap at 19:13

tap tap tap at 16:37

Sunday, June 6

No spazz-talk. This is it. The exam in the morning is scaring me to hell and back. Not to worry, after that not much matters.

tap tap tap at 19:08

The Risk

When a daughter tries suicide
and the chimney falls down like a drunk
and the dog chews her tail off
and the kitchen blows up its shiny kettle
and the vacuum cleaner swallows its bag
and the toilet washes itself in tears
and the bathroom scales weigh in the ghost
of the grandmother and the windows,
those sky pieces, ride out like boats
and the grass rolls down the driveway
and the mother lies down on her marriage bed
and eats up her heart like two eggs.

-Anne Sexton

tap tap tap at 09:56

Saturday, June 5

I have a feeling I shouldn't have messed about with the template right now, but I have done, sooo eww.

tap tap tap at 20:33

FUCK those little things.

tap tap tap at 19:40

Well I finally found someone to turn me upside down
And nail my feet up where my head should be
If they had a King of Fools then I could wear that crown
And you can all die laughing because I'll wear it proudly

Well you seem to be shivering dear and the room is awfully warm
In the white and scarlet billows that subside beyond the storm
You have this expression dear no words could take its place
And I wear it like a badge that you put all over my face

(Elvis Costello-oh.)

tap tap tap at 12:04

Thursday, June 3

Last years shame is all gone away, though it still feels sheepishly similar. I'm in a better spirits now, with better faces to prove it. Will I make it to the summer? I can't think why not. I think I've finally got a grip. Tomorrow will tell me if I'm right.

tap tap tap at 15:11