Love and the 80's

Hi

Walking to work this morning I saw this girl with little black flats, neon pink tights, black knee-length skirt, bright green shirt, white bomber jacket, gino berrelli bag, chopped short hair and big-ass sony headphones. It sounds like she’s hot, but she wasn’t. She had potential, but was still young and didn’t have her groove on yet.

My question is: I get that the youth of today is into the 80’s, and it’s regurgitated by the mainstream, but sometimes they get it right. I mean so right. How do they know about gino berrelli bags? Is it the luck of op-shopping, or do they actually know from research, because they actually are interested?

Anyway, I still haven’t seen the aqua top with mesh and canvas bits and steel eyelet holes that I used to wear. I hated it. I hated most of my clothes in the 80’s, all that bat-wing bullshit. Except my black mesh top, that was hot. But I was too young and hadn’t got my groove on yet.

I’m a bit stressed at the moment. I know when I am stressed because I vomit in the morning. Puked nearly every morning for a week, so I’m admitting it – I’m stressed. I also puke when I am in love, but I know I’m not in love so it must be stress.

So I have these worries – what if this and what if that and then this would mean that and blah, blah, blah – but really, I just have to choose something different, something better. So that’s what I’m doing. But it’s hard you know? I feel like there’s this huge hole in my chest where my heart should be. And it aches. I’m not talking about the usual loneliness/longing ache that I have. This is different. This feels like an almost physical ache that wakes me up in the middle of the night. Its sore. I had to keep rubbing my chest yesterday, although my tits got in the way. I’ve been doing some healings, trying to fill it up with love, but at the moment it feels like a bottomless pit.

When I lived at Disco Mountain Katie hugged me on the landing. We stood, heart to heart with my breath in her hair. She said “And Ms Brown, who needs the most love of all.”

When we were breaking up Philly said to me: “There’s nothing wrong with what you want.” “What do you mean?” “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved.”

I have issues, obviously, which I need to sort out or I’ll never fall in love and make babies and be a housewife. But I do have a backup plan – I’ll be one of those mad old spinsters with 9 cats that makes art and stares at things that aren’t there. I’d prefer option A though, just cos it comes with regular sex. Ok, ok, and the love.

Last night I did not pack or visit Matt. I worked a little late, walked home, practised savasana, made dinner, watched Futurama, had a nap with my cat, worried, read and slept.

I slept wedged between my cat and a couple of pillows. It was kinda nice, like sleeping with someone. Other than my cat that is.

My flatmates are moving on, buying their own telly and stuff. It makes me feel lonely. Elisa’s boyfriend broke his leg playing soccer so she had to get out of bed and go to hospital. I can’t imagine how you would break your leg playing soccer. I guess I’ll find out tonight.

Laters.

Music du jour:
Throwing Muses – The Real Ramona: a classic.
Sonic Youth – Washing Machine: Honey, here’s a quarter. Go put it in a washing machine.