Incidents In the Life of A (British) Girl

06.00 UK/22.00 SF

'The true story of an individual's struggle for self-identity, self-preservation, and freedom.'
- Harriet Jacobs Incidents in the Life of A Slave Girl

'we apologise for the inconvienience


but this is a REVOLUTION.'



mYths of the world/bob dYlan/aMerican lit/woMen in lit

cesar chavez + malcolm X in the plaza,little asia in the basement,queer alliance on the mezzanine,hyper christians in the quad and one british girl lost (and found) in translation.

citylightsbookstore(ferlinghetti)-beatgeneration - OUR generation,OUR revolution. you see what world we live in, what world we are in NOW.

being in the presence of colossal writers/poems/prose today at citylights made me think about this city,this experience,this year. i want to writewritewrite as i always have in here ----> <3.
i want to document my life thus far with polaroids,poems,words,quotes,phrases. {am i good enough?}

the prof's here at STATE are in a word: amazing. Drs cAnnon and HaNley challenge us as students to think outside our [ boxes ] and to think with our heads and our < hearts 3

we are students,but we are the next travellers into the unknown///// i am scared.overwhelmed.excited.anxious.frustrated.thrilled.

littleitaly,fortmason,28/71/Nlines,goldengatebridge ('paint it gold-ferlinghetti),headcolds,laughingfits,noforearms-likeat-rex,parcels,zineszineszineszineszineszineszineszines.

welcome to San Francisco,

'this world is not built by men in suits.'


......but by you.




-e.w.

it's a fire, a fire i cannot put out

07.02 UK/23.02 SF

'Five o’clock and a fire escape symphony
Spilling out across the road and the square
And the sky’s the same as your own, do you think of me?
Do the parks and trees and the leaves reach you there?
After the rain, in the lonely hours he* haunts me....
Calling out, again, and again....
Sophia, Sophia, I’m burning, I’m burning
It’s a fire, a fire I cannot put out.
Sophia, Sophia, I’m learning that some things
I can’t go without
And one of those is him*.'
*she/her


- nerina pallot sophia



somebody that is willing to fly 3000 miles is somebody i can't go without. you're a fire i've not been able to put out since we first met. thank you for everything; the mornings, the evenings, the naps, the baths, holding my hand when it gets too much, catching my breath, tracing my lifeline, playing your guitar, not giving up.



your poem is in construction, dartmouth.



-e.w.

prince hamlet of his hexagram

08.46 UK/00.46 SF

"San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth."
- W.Sarovan

does anybody wanna be anything out of the ordinary? asks the instructor, the smartest kid in class who comes to school drunk raises his hand and says





'yes sir, i'd like to be a dollar.'

- bob dylan tarantula



prince hamlet walks his st bernard shakespeare
every morning at 6
along the waves,the foamy sour milk left in cartons
and tipped out on sunday mornings,
the charcoal sand itching between his toes
and his the temporary lion that roars on his foot.
aslan speaks his secret language not buildings of hexagrams
or rhombus or fuel injected refridgerators
but the size of dimes in his hands,
the flavour of his fathers cologne on his tongue,
the scent of fresh camera film,
the ghosts no one else speaks.
he calls his beautiful beast shakespeare,watching him dance
in the grass on the dunes - his old amigo
silently faithful. he is the view from the other side.
on nights in julie's room, he recalls nothing.
on mornings infront of the vast expanse, it whispers everything.
as he turns his back to the sea,the green bill flutters under a stone
'i am sick of heroic sorrow'

and he remembers, in composition, he once wanted to be a dollar.


-e.w.

I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul

07.49 UK/11.49 SF - 20.8.09

kid you'll move mountains carrie necklace chester the chicken 3000 miles one year/two year/three year four fuck up fuck wit oceans of tears in empty chow mein packages trains stations hearts soldiers you inspire me sAm butterflies nondescript swoops i am a pirate i am sailing the seventh sea ////

sAn frAncisco.

DEPARTMENT OF US HOMELAND SECURITY; welcome to America!

one year hiatus and rediscovery of the other side. redisinvention of self. a) lose gf. b) heart broken c) six month journey d) Sam MacIntosh is online e) acquire heart again f) full heart, chest swell. face flush. hangon: i think its l/o/v/e.

Doctor, we have a pulse. beat beat beat a first on your essay - three hurrahs for Garland all hope is not lost about writing despite dismal marks on poetry. subjectivity. objectivity. tivity. vity. ity. ty.

and now HERE! the land of dreams,burgers,marilyn,theking,thelateMJ,macys/bloomies/saks,seals,harveymilk,castro. the land of crooked streets and crooked hearts. steep hills and steep aspirations. i am full of anticipation, but how do i know where it starts?

i am back blogging

older,wiser(onehopes),rounder,unmended,unpicked,mended,repicked,freshunfreshraw.


'your mountain is waiting.'....im on my way.///

-e.w.

23.13 - 20/04/08

train party wine drunk cuts sleep snuggle cover leather ribena toast bacon sausages drive car indian dr who cuddle pillows jour/nuit dream cycle talk train doze chat train party wine drunk cuts sleep snuggle cover leather ribena toast bacon sausages drive car india dr who cuddle pillows jour/nuit dream cycle talk train doze chat train party wine dru

ONE NEW NOTIFICATION!

ONE PHOTO COMMENT

XX HAS COMMENTED ON YOUR PHOTO

friday -

not so much unlike skins friday night was party night. eighteen birthdays to celebrate in one night (phoebe's not mine) that culminated in dancing.singing.falling.crying.smoking.trampolining.shouting.drinking.sleeping and that was just me.

i spent the rest of the weekend with my baby snuggled. in bed. blocking the rest of the world out, apart from dreams. dr who

was good. as was takeaway indian which felt like it'd been missing from many months of my life. it was filling; drop dead fred. he's a good'un.

took me back to 4 years old 'did you ever have an imaginary friend!?!'

YES HIS NAME WAS ZAC///////// today i travelled back to uni. train journeys are so pointless with nothing to look forward to. and now i sit with arthur again, beckoning me to write something about him and his dream instead i sit here eat doritos and pretend.

niggggggght.

'i dunno, what are your thoughts?'

-e.w.

Once upon a time there was a story that began

01.14 am - Thurs 14/04/08

Have you ever wondered where Elvis Presley got his moves from?





once upon a time there was a story that began





thursday morning, very early, behind me jumps agyness deyn in a cut-out newspaper article adorning my wall with her winklepickers, that i hasten to add aren't liked by everyone. my girlfriend's face looks at me with her big blues and i wish she was here. brushing my teeth i looked in the mirror and thought 'not all that and a bag of chips' and my hair needs a wash.





parents are odd. this easter we argued. a delightful battle royale to the death. apart from there was of course no death involved, only shouting and homophobic rants. firstly i must explain i am far from putting myself in a box labelled gay straight bi. that's not me. but i have a girlfriend and this is a concept too difficult for my parents to understand. thus cut to various scenes of arguing, storming out, hysteria (great basis for a film) and here i sit wondering whether i can go home this weekend or to make other arrangements. in any case other arrangements have been made.





yaawn, sleep or arthur miller essay? i think he would have thought 'fuck it, catch some zzz's'. actually, who knows what he would have thought. snoooze. this is probably a load of bollocks, and youre reading and thinking, what the fuck?! why should i read this crap? well
to be honest
i dont know. first blog and all. early morning. we'll see how things pan out. for now.


'smashing. we're all pals together again.'


-e.w.