Shoddy poetic rambles.

Consumptive recording:


2.5 raisin and oatmeal cookies 400

tortellini and pesto 500

two tangerines 40

four slices of pizza (margherita) 500

sultanas 100

options hot chocolate 40

bread (50)



1640. This would have been better, but there was a powercut, forcing me into eating takeaway. Well, no force was involved, but I reasoned that it was better to eat than not to eat... I suppose this is what all fatties say to justify themselves. Tomorrow I will do better. I am young, I had better do this whilst I still can.



I need to stop feeling quite so stupid about myself. Bad marks do not stupidity make. Besides which, feeling dim only makes me act so.



I loved our powercut. Rules were suspended (oh, how liminal) and we sat around and played consequences, which is one of my favourite games. We were all in one room, around a plate of tealights, and it was lovely. I'm not saying that electricity brings evils etcetera, but I can certainly see what the Amish are aiming for (well, they don't go in much for the jollity, but I definitely felt that we bonded). Then my other friends came and we went out. I hope my housemates understand that I like them every bit as much as my other friends; they are like my family that I always come back to. My other friends are very high octane; my housemates are simply very easy to be with. Actually, my friends are easy to be with as well; I don't know, it's different. Suffice it to say that I like them both in different ways.



I want to know where this is from:



And she is so like the rose,

whose beauty remains though the red bloom goes.



The rhyme isn't quite right in it, but I know that I've heard it somewhere; maybe those aren't the exact words. I want to say, "though the bloom fades", but that wouldn't fit. Maybe, "whose red bloom fades yet beauty grows"?



I wrote some shoddy poetry which I may later retract:



Shakespeare borrowing; shamelessly unconnected



Ah, my salad days

Nutrition based

A worrying waste

I sit upon a burnished throne

Or hop forty paces through

A market place.

Memories and humdrum plastic

And neon lights, of navigating

Across seas of whalebone white

Nightly, noone else in sight

A token trip for we two

Alas, Egypt, I am dying

I am left to sail, decked by pearls

Whilst elsewhere, another land

Your banner unfurls.



The moonlight ran in rivulets, disdaining your patin shoulder. You told me I was beautiful. I am paltry, pale, plain; not beautiful. My workings show in the ugly tendons of my neck, they are so easy to read. No mystery. Broad, bold, blue veined but never that. Never beautiful. Yet, you cared enough to lie and tell me that I was, because you could see that it mattered to me.

Loved me sicklier than death

Loved ribs and bones and concave chest

Loved a selfish, egocentric continuous whine

Till I find

I'm none so terrible

But you're too kind.

Doormats get torn with tread and grow thin

Noone notices 'till the mud loses grip

Then it's time to get a new one in

The old one laid down under odd ends and things.