I can’t sleep

I’ve had a night of those horrible, fitful dreams that leave you exhausted and uncomfortable. It’s 5:20 am, las madrugadas. Birds have just started singing, or rather, I’ve  just noticed birds singing. Birdsong is a strange name for it, because ofcourse it’s not lyrical or melodious at all. It’s too urgent sounding, it’s too desperate. I gave up on sleep about an hour ago, so I was trying to learn some Spanish.  Normalmente durmo a pierna suelta, pero la noche pasada tuve suenos malos. Spanish is the bane of my life, and my primary indulgence now that art has just become another task on a list of things to do. I need to be fluent in it. I just need to be.

I went out for a meal last night with some people from school, close friends and good aquaintences. The food was unpleasant and overpriced, but the restaurant was quite empty so they let us sit and talk for years and kept refilling our drinks after we’d finished pudding.  Sometimes, times like last night, I realise what I’m going to miss about being sixteen. Being so young, and so cocky, and so convinced that we are invincable.  I find it difficult to believe in death.

Soko & Smiths songs

There’s a singer i’ve been listening to called SoKo. She’s French, and pretty, and she’s big in Australia and Belguim, according to her fansite. I don’t even really know if I like her, but i’ve listened to “I’ll Kill Her” several times in a row. I think I like the way her accent (she sings in English) sounds clipped and severe like that of my old French teacher.

I don’t really know if I like any music at the moment. I just binge on it, and then have to turn it down or off because it spoils the lucidity of my thoughts, and makes all my words get tangled up and messy.

This week hasn’t been very good. Not that I was expecting it would be, and not that it’s been horrible. I just haven’t been happy, and there’s been little to distract me and make me feel any less self absorbed and to stop my angst and anxiety from festering. I feel like something out of a Smiths lyric.

First Post

I don’t think anyone really cares about what I have to say. A good start, I’m sure.

I had a blog before, but no one read it and my ego is far too big to be content with being actively ignored, even if it is just by a computer screen. Or perhaps especially by a computer screen.

The suburbs are a strange place to grow up, I think. My town isn’t very beautiful, but it’s not claustrophobic enough for me to need to find something better. A few years ago, when I was about 8 and my sister was 10, she told me she hated this place. I was impressed, the idea had never crossed my mind. She’s always impressed me, in the same way a fire eater might.