[this page left intentionally blank] (eyelines) wrote,
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women in aviation [self-portraiture]so everyone’s fucking up greatly articulating stressing affection and suspect care that i’m “not eating” and they’re all displeased, accusatory with me for not providing tolerable reasons or believable answers, brushing off their inquiries with volatile noncommittal replies like “it makes me feel… ill.” or the all around puzzling “i can’t. it’s okay, but i can’t.” disfigurement, blood without depression and depression without blood closely impossibly near to disintegrate my () i'm somber and worried but not actively about parts of my health, i might need something like electric shocks or all i might need, tenderness. why does the word porcelain come to mind.

on my graduation day i had on a honey coloured dress, discharging the unwritten rule that girls should always Wear White on this occasion, such nonsense, so droll— and had to present myself inside the city park irrationally early in the morning with scants of my class mates who drank champagne and ate strawberries, i couldn’t and didn’t relate to the festive mood; many tried to initiate conversation, asking about my choice of clothing and other things that failed to penetrate the slow processing of my mind, i was too hypnotized bothered by the smothering humid weather and growing crowds of soon-to-be-graduates, stared instead elsewhere with disinterest and subverted suffering, anxiety. the entire day went wastefully by without attachment of any of the charm that everyone else seemed to feel and enjoy, i grew immensely tired with the uproar and untiring celebration, in the assembly hall i was called up on stage and had to get up in front of hundreds of unfamiliar faces to receive an “award” for Best School Project of The Year together with K. i rose from my seat out of pure autonomy and politeness, didn’t actually reflect about it until i was standing tall observed by audience and realized i had to remain there until every single one of the thirty or so people had collected their scholarships as well which would turn out to be more than surely twenty five godmotherfucking long minutes of unwanted stage presence secondary reaction my body refused to stop its encompassing trembling, i wavered in tension / muted panic, the girls lined up next to me whispered futilely helplessly “are you… okay?” feeling my subconsciously nervous shifting of positions and then i found i could in fact, not move at all. consequently K had to accept our award by herself as i proved unable to motion three steps forward when our names were called, i guess i should be happy i didn’t after all make a dramatic literal EXIT in terms of passing out or anything kindred . . . . . the evening feels so far off in both my mind and in terms of time, had barely recovered from the atrocity that was the awards when i met up with L & ID and crashed a party at a friend of a friend’s house + backyard: this turned out to be a blast, we were batting around giggling from too-much-to-drink - i cooed over the many cats stealing across the lawn limberly and without sound, praised one of my ex-classmates for making such a terrific dj (he played among other artists the velvet underground, of course he was to be commended) and came across C who i haven’t seen since january i believe this is not yet goodbye it's just () we have fallen peculiarly out of touching. L revealed by lighting a cigarette that she had taken up smoking, i peacefully gasped. people were chilling out in the grass, drinking mixed brands of alcohol, discussing and merry-making, i spoke my thoughts “well, it’s not completely obnoxious, everyone’s so friendly and nice, i like it here!” and (oddly) presented jaunty suggestions as how to Decorate with empty bottles in your garden. some hours later i made the disastrous decision to bid my farewells as i had free tickets to The Graduation Party held at grace and but so i left alone, riding in a car with strangers uptown and through as the death of day lay final in exigent quietude, collected my sister : arrived.

women in aviation [self-portraiture]i was appalled by the distortion, the dense&congested number of graduates attending, it took us half an hour simply to enter a bathroom stall in the ladies’ washroom and by then we were both approaching deaf due to the vocal volumes echoing mercilessly back and forth inside these insufficient dimensions - pretty much the very same scenario repeating itself all over again from our last visit to this club. reaching my stall as followed by long excessive queuing i felt like declaring in stone cold + severe hostility “any of you fucking pricks move and i’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you” but i didn’t, oh resistance . . . . at the bar i met K which comforted me a little, she has since left for three months in france and thus this was our last conversation, she was absolutely drunk, yelled into my ear “god, i think you’re amazing!” and didn’t even finish the sentence before she pressed her lips against mine and disappeared taking some other gentleman by the arm, curiosity : a curious girl indeed. everything dry and dull and dreary, people kept pissing me off with their lack of manners, a twenty-something guy sitting on a bench near me turned his head slightly around only to vomit “just like that” and it was such offense to me that i felt momentarily blinded. i leaned against a table setting my face to a manufactured FUCKING DO NOT TOUCH ME all ice, all ice, was left alone excepting an obviously bold young male who inquired something about 'my evening', i said insensibly “i want to Die.” he asked with pause “… do you want a drink?” i forbade him courteously to waste his money on me, he got me one anyway. he made comments on my clothing and jewellery, overall style, asked if “i was a feminist” — men as a rule and for some reason always need to Make Sure “i am not completely lesbian” before making any Advances — it’s only vaguely entertaining, the supposed novelty kind of wears off . . . . . i neglected him perhaps a little too brutally when helena came up to me, a girl in my class never truly known (i’ve never had the pleasure) but i always found her adorable radiating kindness she looked dashing in a dark green long flowing dress that she had apparently designed herself, golden pearls in her hair, said “i am so sad i never got to know you! i haven’t told you before but i think you seem so wonderful, really!” i smiled with candor, wrote a secret message for her to read and replied that surely we would meet again.

my boss yesterday. leaned herself casually over the monitors into where i was sitting and announced “you look fantastic!” i was wearing my new thrift-shopped ivory shaded jacket (as depicted here in this very entry) with little darling bows on the arms and pockets, dark pants and immaculate makeup. which is remarkable because i had to appear at work 6.3oam, had less than twenty precious minutes to conduct all my vain procedures and s t i l l accomplished arriving with startling punctuality looking utterly presentable. much more significantly : i’m falling more viciously behind each day, yes i’ve began working and it’s very stressful; the pendulum swings balance between order and chaos but at least there’s free coffee&fruit in unlimited amount every day and i have time to read anaïs nin during my breaks. her third journal was heartbreaking, spy in the house of love a deeply moving tale if one overlooks the once-in-a-while silly if not stupid expressions about sex, human intercourse that are almost laughable. i’m getting into extremely loud and incredibly close by jonathan safran foer as well, didn’t think it to be so earnest and yet full of humour, as i have let out a chuckle or two at work while turning the pages ... oscar is however a questionable character, read recently a review that mentioned something about him knowing all kinds of things seemingly obscure&unrelated for and to other ten year olds, but then had ask for what a mini bar was, which is i guess all true, and also just Details. other books of interest include (how proust can change your life), (the price of water in finistere) and i would love to someday read the words and experience the journals of (this) woman.

marilyn monroe.many more afternoons hanging out with hannah, she’s going through something of a Rough Time as she has been accepted to a school of fashion&design in denmark, copenhagen. she’s indecisive, unsure understandably and i would miss her insanely if she were to go although that’s beside the point . . . . this weekend has been the “midsummer holidays”, L and i decided to enjoy each other’s company over coffee; it rained lightly, i brought my dark brown vintage umbrella and we were stunned to find everything was closed, how scandalous. we were also the only ones to walk and meander the streets fucking ghost town desolation to desolation silence, wind and nobody there. finally we located a 24hrs fast food restaurant, scored free coffees with milk and apple pie, skimmed newspapers, pulled insider jokes : i’m always glad and it’s always special to see her. after parting i walked briskly to hannah’s apartment and we were supposed to have dinner&drinks at martin’s house, we went and it was a riot to watch him fitfully trying his best to manoeuvre the outdoor grill with a cigarette between his lips. half-way through dinner Fear gripped me, i couldn’t shut out inside outside in the chitter-chatter all-consuming sensations of blood loss, weightlessness withering bones in slowest motion i offered my sister little information (“i must go.”) and disappeared, drove home, disconcertion : it was still light for it to be past 9pm, on a bridge i drove past an older woman wearing a fuchsia jacket, leaning against the railing staring directly into the lowering sun and gleaming sea, she looked absolutely at peace. in comparison to ()

i have received a letter in the mail from eva, containing a small splendid polaroid picture that is now fastened to my wall, i love it plenty. some days ago i also had a completely mystifying encounter with () inside a coffee shop, i remain uncertain as to What Happened. but if i ever run into him again i’ll be sure to tell him just how much i like his voice. you don't know, how it affects me, the way something or One sounds. this tonight, a heavy rainfall creased with ominous thunder, terrifying beautiful lightning, i am thinking of a certain girl . . . . i’ve just taken upon me a morning shift at work on monday which i’ll surely regret once that day comes and i’m in desperate need of new shoes as my black wedge heels are unapologetically worn out and down. i’m being reminded by intermittent symptoms that i’ve forgotten to take my white little pills these days past, können sie mir etwas gegen die schmerzen geben. when will i ever learn, to take my fucking medication.
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