Forward
Time. Time to open a new clean white sheet on ‘things’ (note, the carefully chosen word sheet whereby both bed or paper adhere happily to this statement). The reader may question why, with slightly raised brow possibly to an acute arch, this ominous opening. A Tabula rasa lifestyle change peut-être, a New Year’s late resolution based on ‘life the ever-changing slate’ theorization maybe… or perhaps, like omitting hair dye and going natural, does this 2011 entry signify reverting back to blank to begin again? Blink and think. Well not exactly. The purpose of the opening line is a little more complex.
The delightful setting is admittedly a perfect insinuation of blank-neutral new, a depiction of pearly white clinic bright. Warning, I hereby choose to spatter this appallingly fresh canvas, yes in February, (all of one month on), with a mise-en-scène of Hammer Horroresque crude flesh tethers, torn, stripped and discarded away from ‘a new hope’. No, do not think of Star Wars first epic movie of the same name but moreso of Goya’s Saturn if that helps. Think unsightly steamy red gore on white, preferably, consider the more unlikely MONSTER. If one would care to add the heart to the already disturbing absence of the victim’s head in Goya’s painting, we together envisage a similar horror as the starting point here. A need to paint with words the ugly picture of things is where I really begin, entirely self- indulgent of course but also entirely necessary.
So how does one begin to explain how it feels to reside in a curious space as a rejected abject subject? How can one describe the matter of a bloodied heart out-of-body experience? A most precious thing stolen and spent to an Other (though the evidence implies multiple Others). The outcome is undoubtedly the same - one has been hosting a thief in the lovers bed. Apparently this ‘strange curve’, if you survive such a bitter and cruel tragedy, makes you stronger. Oh horrendous cliché she screams! This matter of heart in tatters I shall attempt to stitch, red-fingered and from a clear state of undone. One laconic sentence tells all... I thought I knew him... Forgive this entry if you prefer not to reside within this potentially foul-tongued episode. If, like countless others, you too may have experienced, inhaled and breathed a lovers scent of rat and taste of betrayal to then coast through life as a free-floating heart-sore scrap of enhanced red, empathy is yours from one that knows.
Rewind
Picture this, if you will, snatched memories of crazy pink wigs, New Years, dress, sleek black, ridiculously long flash of lashes, leg-sparkle, Gagaesque fancy-craze, more than six brilliantly dressed Avatars, a very hot yet convincing gorilla, late champagne, stiletto toppled arms linked, love, absolute silence after, bliss. Future, safe, solid. The following ‘new’ day, snow clean aspirational hopes for 2011 swirling in milky white dreams made possible by an obscenely deep pleasure-pool bath.
Day 1 EVERYTHING WAS POSSIBLE.
Next
- Picture messaging not intended for you with attached recent recipients.
- The Gazette Women Seeking Men box numbers x too many.
- The Adult ‘scraping the barrel’ station £3 a shot or £5 a night.
- The Ex who tells you “he has been in contact with her for the duration of your relationship”.
How clever was that Blackberry…
Day 17 OVER
Lesson
Dare you request a little time, even if it is a two day “cooling off period” - BEWARE – Even after 3 years, the roving-eyed fly whose proboscis MAY prefer to plunge straight into a stolen room of fancies. Not Kipling per-se but more a second day cake type, boxed, numbered and sometimes available for FUN at premium rate.
Shocked? Probably not.
Suggested reading ‘The World’s Wife’ by Carol Ann Duffy – Life saver
Track ‘Monster’ by Lady Gaga - Perfect
Second track ‘I found a boy” Adele – New hope
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