beth motherfucking kirby.

b thang.

SHUTUP in my boudoir

30.5.05

hello beautiful, shut the fuck up.

She sat pulling up sheets of paper printed with
Rodeo Drive
Avalanche
Spongecake
Milk White
Jade Mist and Summer Plum.
The little squares, like bricks or smooth tiles feel like eggshell or that matte sort of rubber you find in cars. All of this just to paint your house with cool dripping and the smell of turpentine which strips your nasal cavaties and your sinuses.
A fire alarm uses alpha radiation to sense fire. Heat disrupts the electrons and it stops you and your sleeping kids from burning alive, as you toss your duvet off in your sleep. Alpha radiation is one of thoe most ionising substances on Earth. This basically means an alpha particle will not travel through your paper, but you lick the inside of your FireEx Pro and you die.
No, I say, it won't be too dark. It's a big room.
"Yes, yes it will be, it's just much too grey for the carpet,"
The thing with alpha radiation is once it enters your body, it changes the structure of every cell's nucleus.
The cell then dies.
This decay happens in chains until most of your tissue is mush or you vomit everytime you move because the acid in your stomach finds somehwere else to burn.
"We could have Apple Tree? I suppose that matches the gloss we have."
Everytime she mentions another shade of green, I'm thinking of stomach acid, burning flesh, visceral darkness and mucus.
"Soft Willow?"
The cell then dies.
"Greengables?"
The searing as your peptic ulcer explodes on to intestines.
"No, let's stick with Apple Blossom."
Pink bubbling tissue as saliva and burning make their way up your throat. I shake my head and get up from the chair.

Whatever, I say. Whatever.

I am finding it totally hard to sleep.
I have a special problem with alcohol. Not alcoholism, I mean.
Firstly, everytime I drink i get drunk. The special part is my body clings on to alcohol like a sponge and I remain feeling disconnected and slow for days, like my head is filled with milk.
It feels like you're being microwaved. You can't tell if you're still drunk or if everyone else is. Everyone else is unreasonable. Everyone else comes too close to yuor face. Everyone else gets their words mixed.
"The table is under the box," or "No I started I just needed to finish,".
Everyone else is mind-numbingly mornonic.
Every night I wake up with a thrill of fear from a dream that a girl's tape recorder is a fuel injector, we have killed people on the Underground, a huge storm blew a town away. I wake up and I need a drink.
When I open my eyes it feels like someone has stuck a sheet of cellophane bwetween my eyelids and the birds are singing.
Apparently dawn is now at 4.
I check back my curtains and the sky is a machine blue, a horrible blue. The trees are cast in black and lurch in the street while spider webs luridly twist across my window in oil rainbows; pink, orange, blue-purple, green, yellow, green.
I think this would be a wonderful colour for the room.
A cell dies.
If you lick a fire alarm, you're dead in minutes.
I realise I am sweating and strings of my hair on on my cheeks, my cheeks feel like that industrial matte rubber you find in cars, hot from the sun. Why is it so god damn hot? I open the window but a chorus of tarry birds call at me so i shut it again, shut the double glazing.
Why is it so god damn hot?
I hear a faint licking like moving a glass over brown paper. A crackling sound, acrid smoke.
I don't have a fire alarm in my house. And my fucking house is on fire.

commentz

22.5.05

lost symphonic papers

my back hurts across my ribs today. it feels like they need to be broken open, like the chocolate of an easter egg. they should crack when i breathe out.
i hate the burning smell of buses sometimes.
i have ginger coming through the dark of my hair, cocoa powder orange.
willow wax leaves weep and writhe into rivers green, green, chartreuse.

is you is or aint you aint. gingerbread. pink smarties, dusty floors, broken glass, scars and then bruises. showerheads. cold water smell, peppers, salsa.
watch the leaves teeter in the evening and the cutlery draw in the sky shakes, the handle is pulled. the smell of cars interrupts the sinew roads like a black sick tongue and i match, we're painted the same. smell nothing on the skin of people, birds leaving wire, walk away from coloured festidious awenings, walk, walk away from ambulating oil suspended in silken puddles. walk. walk faster, walk in black and white with long hair, follow people on the streets, taste money from your city-blackened fingers, squeeze the rain from a tired shoelace, the bench is made from tarmac. hear the people and the cars yawn and dance in your ears, your tired ears, walk, walk, walk on and away, walk past trees, new leaves stained with the blood and mucus of autumn passed, wet grass emblazon your shoes, imagine the people's bones and joints as spinning paper plates, first soaked, drying and freezing, fissile and shattering, keep spinning keep spinning, black chartered wetness, ghosts loom over the percentages, cobbles, wolves and suits, walk, walk faster away from those instructing the songs playing forever and echoing from highrise buildings, from the straw and blue poppies, swirling under an enamoured ethereal sky that belongs in a photograph from above a gate when i was six. remember the colours of handkerchiefs, recall the rows of cigars in a shop window, the eyebrows of a shopclerk, walk, walk, walk away from teastains on reams of paper and grey buttons which line your brain amongst green nerves, crackling with raw and spitting in the haze of the rain, walk, walk, walk, and walk.

commentz

7.5.05

seriously what the fuck some people are making out behind me i dont even know why i was invited here

ropes of my hair unfold in the light of a single dim bulb.
god, god, god almighty.

i always have this thing when songs or smells remind me so strongly of a certain time of my life i find it hard to listen/smell that thing ever again. it makes me feel uneasy. like weezer, most of wezer's music reminds me so much of last summer i have to pluck up courage to listen to it.
everthing is tryuing to change but my memory wont let it and it sucks.

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30.5.05

hello beautiful, shut the fuck up.

22.5.05

lost symphonic papers

7.5.05

seriously what the fuck some people are making out behind me i dont even know why i was invited here