beth motherfucking kirby.

b thang.

SHUTUP in my boudoir

24.7.05

it is probably some neurosis

(even though it was your granddad)

i love when people call me "girl"

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21.7.05

a secret and with you in mind.

im sorry but
HAVE YOU EVER NOTICED HOW SOMETIMES EVERYTHING FEELS SO MUCH LIKE good or like those wooden pegs you slot into wooden-peg shaped holes and they go "clop" and the bottom.
like when it said "clop" i imagined the wood saying that in a little round speech bubble and it really appealed to me.

the point is. life: i know i give you a lot of shit but really you have nothing to do with me. youre great and everything mon frere, mon cherie, but actually it is pretty much me
at sunset
with rolled up sleeves
and these HUGE eyes and their eyelashes which go outwards in curls
living.

and i guess that that is pretty inpirational so me.
i keep having vast images where it is like looking out of a window high up looking at that sort of beauty everyone appreciates and i feel so saved at these moments that my face just breaks into a smile and i want to sit there in quiet and just focus on such a feeling. the feeling is like open and clear and i feel like all of me is breaking open and everything is colours and at these times i feel so at peace. so at peace.
and i realise that nothing is really bad.
nothing really is anything and i say to this: it is only because i was too stubborn to learn i am not calling this NIRVANA or ENLIGHTENMENT or ZEN. look at my ZEN guys. but actually i do it by myself.
and when i do it by myself in these glorious moments i want to share everything with some people because i feel like i am watching everything.
and everything fits. like the wooden blocks oh yeah.

the last time i felt like this. and felt so free and observing and i suppose gifted was blackhorse road station on a wednesday at some time after ten
and even though it was cold and grey,
i
it
everything

felt so good to me and so much mine, and i realised that LIFE i do not NEED you for this.
guys look at my ZEN.
i do not need someone else's definition of this. make a list and don't complete it. make a list and do.
because really everything is yours and everything is waiting and everything is ready to fit
and sometimes everything really is so so fucking dreadful and awful and abominable that you can barely understand why you live.

and so today i felt like this. but was unaffected. i sat and watched a film letting the people's voices (like ed norton HELLO i will marry you okay only if luke marries brad pitt except brad pitt's hottest part is the curve of his back i know this film by frames theres this bit in a door way so. dont even.) but his voice reminds me of brown sugar and i let it just soak into me while i sat there.
and i went to tescos and bought chocolate milk and let it wash down me thickly and grotesquely while i sat there.
i talked to people and understood them. i feel so naked sometimes.
i let the feeling of absolute nothing soak into me. while my list sat being not read. and things sat being undone.
and i knew. will you just check out my ZEN guys. i knew and i knew and i know. but i still just sat there.
and you know that was some terrifying incredibly heart-breaking version of clarity. except it didnt break my heart. i just sat there.
and i felt like this :
+

because really. really really. i just know.

and sure there is that self image thing. i guess i think my problem with that is more than everyone's token problem beause i mean fuck nothing would be fun if you were perfect.
but just. the other day i walked down the road and across from me were these three kids about ten. and they walked together these two girls and a boy and all showed each other their stomachs.
and it seemed to me. me in my french hat. that this was so wonderful
they all did not care. and were not showing off. and just were genuinely interested.
that i was like
"i want to be like that" and just learn some how to feel good in this.
there are things (about this girl RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW that actually looks like she does and is really sitting right here right now or she is in bed or in her house or maybe walking or possibly drawing with those hands you might have felt and she quietly wonders while you look at her what she's like to you and to everyone who sees this person not frozen in pixels or a mirror) that will change and are going to change. but i think i have to run out of this soon otherwise it will eat me up like my own wet pink mouth and that will be the end of that.

really. i mean really.
sometimes when i feel so orange-coloured and open cracked open like a softer egg with my hair moving around me and i want to share everything and really
love
everything youve got.

so life; thankyou.
and fuck you a million times. because sometimes i know there is something
which is so beautiful
i am lost for words and i am in love with the empty plain of my mouth and i look and watch and think on this beauty
and am filled with such an unnamable feeling.

and i feel divine.

commentz

20.7.05

its just that you arent.

why are there always grains of un-disolved hot chocolate flavour grit at the bottom of hot chocolate.
that kind of thing makes me want to not go to sleep.

commentz

19.7.05

THIS BIG.

today i watched five or six ducks all leaning into a rotating water sprinkler swaying slightly as they watched the water come back around.

i was going to say "i would like a mint humbug" but then i realised i have some in my house and actually fulfilment of small pleasures is not what interests me in the way i would write it to you. and also i sort of only wanted to write about ducks but i couldnt.

(i realised recently that went a person says "you" and maybe you know it is not you, the thing you are reading suddenly becomes the most personal thing in the world and it is almost as if you can't read it)

PLEASE NOTE I AM GETTING IN THE SHOWER SO IF I AM NOT THERE PLEASE BE PATIENT OH CHRIST LOOKS AT THE CLOCK WHERE ARE THE DAYS GOING.
PLEASE BEAR THIS IN MIND.

the last word i heard was bucket and i really want to get off here before i hear anything else you know sometimes when you set yourself those ultimatums one day ill show you its in tankgirl too okay okay

it was just said with such appetising conviction my mouth was swollen with its vitriolic juices and my lips feel like leather sofas.

commentz

14.7.05

allows me, moreover

ALLOWS THIS
I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANYMORE

i dont know how to look after things.
SOMEONE'S TAKEN MY LEGS AND I AM ALL STOMACH.
MY MODEM AND MY MEMORY STICK ARE FLASHING IN SYNCHOPATION TO TEARDROP BY MASSIVE ATTACK. WHAT AM I TO DO WITH YOU. FUCK. expletives. you said fuck when i left. i said expletive.

(salmon salmon sahmun pink)
please come home.

DEAR You,
i hope you dont read this anymore. it must be hurtful to watch second person slowly turn in to someone who is not yourself.

commentz

12.7.05

fow-fow

here are some things which are alarmingly overpriced:
batteries
film for cameras
hairdye
fucking innocent fucking smoothies in those tiny fucking little bottles form the new fucking bakery in tetbury.

i'd marry tom waits' voice but really i wouldnt because it wouldnt come to that, it'd take me in its arms and be like "awwuh, hey girl" (i love when people call me girl) and whisk me away for some torrid affair in jazz clubs full of glowing blue smoke and empty yellow glasses at three in the morning.
i hate when people say three-ay-emm instead of three-in-the-morning or three-oh-clock sometimes.

i feel strange now. well not strange (strange reminds me of for some reason today getting out of swimming pools) i just feel kind of not sure how you feel. and you. and you! okay so im not sure how a bunch of people feel. earlier i went to sleep and felt really nyam when i got up and then this feeling kept happening but now for some reason i feel kind of used up, and like, old and everything i am thinking is oolld and my head is sort of, what, not that nice to you guys maybe. well you especially.
tell me i am wrong.

the other people never look here so allows them.
oh, ho, ho.
im making you something too. but it isnt the secret.

look haha i made it like a letter to you.
hahahaha

commentz

8.7.05

stop making that big FACE

and I get out of the shower and my skin is circles of yellow joined with pearly scars of water. Someone has scrawled me with invisible wax like i am their arm in an exam and then doused me in water.
I clean my ears with cotton buds as the packaging speaks to me in first person.
"I am hypoallegenic," they say.
"I am gentle to baby and you."
I have to flip the strings of my hair over and I clean my ears and try to think which shop it is that has "flippy" skirts as I read
WARNING: DO NOT INSERT COTTON BUD INTO EAR CANAL.
I am very quiet and I look at the lilac label. Sometimes it is nice to focus on a shut mouth and to smile silently at your whole life and how quiet it is and how you look to the bathroom cabinet or the door or the lightswitch or other people's bathrooms which you have been in recently.
Other people's bathrooms always seem strange to you and you wonder where things are in them as you gaze into your own eyes trying to imagine what it is like to be a mirror and letting the fact that these are your beautiful bluegrey eyes and not someone else's in someone else's bathroom. And no, you can't imagine what it is like to be this mirror. This mirror in another person's bathroom.

The one thing that is better than writing on a banana with a biro is writing on your monitor with anything. Especially this mousepen from my tablet. Better than those Honda adverts. You feel anything you write is fucking legendary because it doesn't exist.
I am currently thinking about what it must be like to have a bra with three rows of hook-and-eyes, what I'm really like at kissing and about how people see deleted entries maybe for a second before they are deleted, and maybe these become our thoughts and our dreams.

it has taken me twenty six minutes and seventeen seconds to complete this entry.
good day to YOU.

commentz

5.7.05

hellgoodbye stole our sound.

every drawing that i drew was nev-er ev-er ascuteasyou.
i have this one shape in my head that is a neckline of a shirt i have. like a soft wineglass. man, that shirt feels like the feeling i get when i shave my legs and get into be and it is, frictionless. dull soapy smooth.
it is raining again. what happened to the supposed summer. jesus, a month ago it was going to be the best ever. two months ago.
i'm looking for a job. i want to be ROOM SERVICE. ROOOOM SERVISSSSS. no i actually really want to work in this one hotel just they are posh and im scared and i already called them and they said to come in this afternoon but instead i want to see if i can score a majorette jacket with my dad's money so i want to go in thursday so ill have to call them up again in a minute.

not to sound ridiculous. but there is something i want really lots and it is so me. thats the ridiculous part.
okay.
it's a fucking bee outfit. it is incredible. YES A BEE OUTFIT okay gosh.
its like a stripey dress with a tutu at the bottom. it has 19 days left, and maybe if i get my job i will buy it and oh MAN ill be happy. its SO FUCKING NANG.
it iwll be funny. while i am making beds or carrying trays. how i imagine coins and circles of colour falling to fill up a shape of me. just so i can buy a bee outfit.
it will be my secret
i will not tell anyone
only i will know why i am working there.

also. i am going to try and make some rubbish urban art to go on a tshirt and if people go HEY I LIKE YOUR RUBBISH DRUGGY URBAN SHIT i might get paid £200 or something.
i want to drink orange squash from a thick red plastic cup like i used to.

this morning my thighs were the colour of setting tallow and i remembered red plastic, strawberry girls, boyfriends.
and i smiled a folded smile
at how things were.

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