Yep, I'm gay!

I'm aware that to most of you who know me, this isn't exactly new information. I've been with Laura for 5 years now and lets be honest, we're not exactly shy when talking about our opinions on feminism; gender and queer related issues. I'm gay. I like being gay. I have a lovely girlfriend and I have an amazing life with her and long may it continue.

I like to think that we haven't had to deal with homophobia on any major level, even at this point in our lives. We haven't been threatened physically in any way for being gay; we don't live in a country where homosexuality is illegal and we aren't in the US military or anything where, up until today, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was a perfectly acceptable way to treat gay soldiers. To be honest, compared to most - we've had a pretty easy ride. When I came out to my Mum at 15 - she was fine! When I (eventually) came out to my way-religious Dad at 18, he wasn't great about it but he didn't stop speaking to me or - so it could have been a lot worse.

However, lately, it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to be subject to the kind of homophobia that is more subtle day-to-day. Homophobia that I, and I'm sure a lot of other people face all the time.

It's quite common when holding hands with Laura while walking down the street, guys will shout "lesbos" or "rug munchers" at us, which as ridiculously comical as it is - is still pathetic in this day and age. Parents will frequently stare us out on the bus if we are holding hands in front of their children - like what we are doing is in anyway more damaging than their parent's own hate-filled opinions.

However, the main source of homophobia that I have to face and live with daily, is a lots closer to home. After the whole vagina debate with Laura's pictures, my Dad and a couple of other members of my family had an issue with the image and the fact that the vagina in question belonged to myself. Although it is disappointing to see our message about sex-positivity being lost, even to my family, it is understandable. We live in a society where nudity is immediately sexualised and seen as taboo. Are we ready yet, really, to start seeing other family members nakedness?! Probably not.

But the part of this whole situation that upset me the most during this whole time, was when my Dad said that the main reason he was upset at the image was the fact that my 13 year old sister might figure out that I was gay, and that was his MAIN problem with it. His main problem. I don't think I've ever been so angry and hurt in my life, especially in a situation I felt I couldn't fight back in.

To give you a little back-story: my Dad and step-mum are going through quite a nasty separation at the moment, and I have been with Laura for 5 years. Someone who wasn't deathly homophobic ma - JUST MAY - see that showing a young person a positive and loving relationship that is lasting - whether it be a gay relationship or not - MIGHT JUST BE OKAY??!! And maybe, just maybe, not something to run away screaming from?!

At this time, I'm still not really sure what the major issue is. The whole thing is a bit vague. Is it that I am an abomination in the eyes of the Lord? Do my family believe those, awfully questionable, aspects of Christianity? Shall I remind them of all the contraception they should probably stop taking and admonish them when they use the Lord's name in vain too? Just to make sure they are sticking to the "rules" see. Or has it become perfectly acceptable to use and abuse the Bible as you wish and declaring that GOD MEANT TO SAY that homosexuality is still wrong but everything else is up for chat?! Is that pretty standard now? God hates fags but everything else is okay yeah?

Or maybe, the fam hold a belief that I go around recruiting lesbians far and wide and because they already have one in their midst - that's plenty. We wouldn't want another one now would we?! How do I answer this?! Do I explain the obvious, that gayness is innate and not conditioned? Do I tell them that no amount of exposure to lesbians will turn my sister gay? Is this even the issue?

If I bring it up, there is a lot of stuttering and vagueness and not a lot of clarity.

What I want to know, is why is being gay still, after all this time - so taboo. I will gladly have intelligent debate with anyone who can come up with an intelligent line of thought. I haven't heard one thus far.

When I put the link to this blogpost on my Facebook - I shall block it from my Dad (so as not to offend) my sister (so as not to reveal the horrendous truth of her sister's deviant lifestyle) and my Mum (so as not to hear how awesomely okay she is with my gayness and how my Dad is totally unacceptable- as is standard opinion with divorced parents) I shouldn't have to do this but I will. And hear lies my part in the problem...I'm scared. For all my opinions about homophobia on a global scale; abortion laws and regulations for sex workers and all my other opinions that people in my life don't necessarily agree with, ultimately, I'm afraid to tell my family precisely why I think their opinions are complete bollocks and take life into my own hands and tell my sister in the right, positive and drama-free way that I am gay. And that it's okay. In fact, it's better than okay because I am happy. And that's pretty great isn't it? To be happy?

Maybe I'll work up the courage to do it one day but for now part of me is stuck with the realisation that some part of me is enabling these horrendous opinions to continue to exist. Today is not a good day.

My vagina and why it isn't offensive...

This is a photograph from my girlfriend, Laura Duncan's current art exhibition in Aberdeen. It is clearly of a vagina (my vagina actually!) but I think anyone would be pretty hard pushed to call it, in any way, sexually explicit.

This same image, alongside a few of her other works, will be moved tomorrow to a "less visible" area of the exhibition so as not to offend "the public."

What's to offend!?! It's a partially covered close up of genitalia that half of the population own themselves and if anyone knows of someone who didn't come out of someone owning one, I'd really like to know about it! Letting this image be considered offensive is admitting and supporting the notion that we should be ashamed of our own bodies.

To move these artworks to an area where it is less visible is to completely negate the sex-positive message that Laura is trying to convey. Laura and I both stand for freedom of speech and expression. Censorship to this level, over images which aren't in anyway indecent in the first place, is offensive to the public itself. God forbid one could make their own decision whether or not they look at an image!

I heard someone talking about how "children should not be subjected to such indecency," WHAT'S INDECENT?!? They can see the same thing, by looking down!

I'm personally outraged. Everybody that we know, who we respect, are outraged too!


Tomorrow morning at 9.30am, Laura is going down to the Art Centre to remove her artwork rather than have her positive message compromised by such utter nonsense and drivel. We have invited anyone who wishes, to join us in support - either in person or by changing their social networking picture to her "Free Love" image as shown above. By making Facebook, Twitter etc. a sea of "Free Love" we can show solidarity, not only for Laura herself, but also to the point that nudity and our own bodies are in NO way offensive.

All hail the vagina,

Let's watch this space :)

Dusty Springfield, you awesome lady...

I particularly love the cheeky eyeroll Dusty gives off when singing the line, "wear your hair just for him..."


Everybody knows that Dusty was wearing that sexual hairdo for the gayladies.

Hot.

But the dancers? Hmm...what even is that?!

90's fashion and why it is so ridiculously awesome!

It may have come to some people's attention that I tend not to dress like regular people. This is partly poverty based (i.e charity shops/Primark are amazing when you're skint) and partly because normal, beigey clothes bore me and always will.

Sample picture of me aged around three:

I know what you're thinking...what a style icon I was, even in the late 80's!

However, I think I may get laughed at on the street more than usual this year as I've decided that early to mid-nineties fashion is clearly the way to go Spring/Summer 2011 - oh no, no not the Spice Girls 90's, that was a bit shit.

I mean genius. Genius such as this...oh, I feel a top ten coming on:

1. 1994's Liv Tyler

Oh, hello baby blue, mohair, long-sleeved-yet-cropped jumpers! Clearly a staple for any good wardrobe (and as equally useless for any of Scotland's "weathers" - good or bad) this coupled with one of the many Primark grunge-inspired kilts they've got on sale right now and I am good to go! Bargainous!

This outfit will be worn mostly when dancing to "The The" on record shop rooftops when I hang with the likes of Renee Zellwegger.



2. The "Blossom" Hat

Everybody should own a "Blossom" hat. However, I think on this occasion I'll give bad green crochet-cardigans and camel-toe inducing beige culottes a big miss. Plus, we're all aware that the true fashionista of "Blossom" was Six anyways. She was the one who knew how to rock a pinstripe waistcoat/teal bodysuit combo.




3. Vickie from Reality Bites

Now this, this is just beautiful. I mean, people just don't know...what it takes.

You know, we'll let it go that Janeane Garofalo's fringe changes length every two seconds in this film because this film is just greatness. I heart it so much! Everybody needs to wear a blue teadress whilst frequenting their local gas station as they dance like idiots to "My Sharona." In fact, I wholeheartedly believe everybody should dance to "My Sharona" at least once a week. It will make people live longer...

Janeane is amazing so she deserves two photos. Plus, her graduation outfit in this film is my personal favourite.

What you can't see in this picture is the green, strappy, suede sandals she has on with this outfit. Immabe wearing this in about a month. Probably to work. It's hot.


EDIT: Erm, how could I just forget about Lisa Loeb singing at the end of Reality Bites?! She was my fashion icon when I was 15! Check this shit out:

Truly awesome.




4. Shirley Manson

A ten year old Stephanie Torrance spent a lot of time wishing she had red hair and wore luminous shiftdresses ala Garbage frontwoman Shirley Manson. She has subsequently settled for a beautiful red-headed girlfriend, yet still can't find any uber-cute dresses like this! 2011 is the year to step up the search!

5. Romy and Michelle

You can't have one without the other! Cute tops. Cute skirts. Cute gymwear. They make me also want to wear platforms whilst running and only order Diet Cokes with extra cherries when I'm in clubs. Plus, they believe that matchy-matchy is ok. So fuck you Project Runway, what do you know?

This film also has Janeane in it once again. Oh...okay then, let's have another photo:

Argh, she's too cute! Pigtails? A nineties classic, even if you are in your early-thirties!

6. Clueless

This, this is all so cute and preppy. I love this. However, part of me always preferred Tai's awkward outfits before she got madeover.

She's wearing a flannel shirt and a t-shirt with a Troll on it! A Troll! <3
7. Doc Marten's
No, no not just black ankle length ones. I want these ones:

I want to rock some shiny gold calf-length ones! Such a flattering length and colour, they shall clearly go with everything I own!

8. Other such 90's music girlies:-

I'm not a huge Gwen Stefani style fan, however this dress is freakin' cute:

Plus a bindi?! Haha, okay - let's bring back them too :)

Shampoo? Shall we bring this back? No, I jest. This is a mess.

Maybe Alisha's Attic though - some of their outfits were cuuuute

9. Rose McGowan in "The Doom Generation"
I know I keep going on about it but looky look! Look how cute this raincoat is?!

The coat is awesome; the dress is great. I wish I had the bone structure for a bob like this; I need those glasses and my lifelong dream is now to own the coat and this belt buckle:

10. Okay, I can't think of a tenth so here's a picture of Tank Girl for Laura :)

So, in conclusion, nineties fashion is tremendous and I'm gonna be looking quite ridiculous in a town near you quite soon!

I'm off to look on ebay! So excited :)

I just get so happy when they finally let her shop...

When Miss Laura gets home, I think we should go out dressed like this:

And since we are having sober times, it's a perfect opportunity to order plenty of Diet Cokes with extra cherries <3

yes.

Oh, fit like...

Today, is a not-so-fresh day. I seem to have acquired some sort of manflu/cold/icky thing that makes me want to have a big old moan to my girlfriend and demand cuddles and ice cream. Except, she is away in Huntly being an artist or something ;) so I have to man up and do it myself.

Well, almost myself. My flatmate, G, is being super nice making me Fruitsips (do you know how much real Lemsips cost?!) and promising to get me some ice lollies later :) winning.

Today I have achieved the grand sum of zero. I watched "The Breakfast Club" on repeat overnight approximately seven times as I could not be bothered changing the disk. I have made a coffee and eaten an apple (caffiene and vitamin C are my cure for everything) and I have half watched "Napoleon Dynamite" while I piss around on the computer. (Well, whilst dragging my arse out of bed to create my commoncold cure of awesomeness I felt that I had to also bring with me fistfuls of DVD's. I may be ill for sometime and if I hear, "Do I stutter?" one more time I might lose the will to live.

Today, online, I have learned:
- That Edie Segwick was indeed the prettiest of Warhol's superstars. Ingrid Superstar is just no comparison.
- That Almond Milk is the apparently the tastiest of all milk replacements and according to the "Vegan Forum" I am going to Hell.
- That Billy Corgan is dating one of "The Veronicas" (wow, I feel super-enriched now!)
- That it will cost me £3500 to do the Creative Writing MLitt I hypothetically decided I would do this year.
- That no matter how hard I search, this coat:

is fucking sold out!

and most importantly, I found out this year's winner of the Mslexia short story competition that one of my super faves - Jackie Kay judged.

Apparently the winner is 25; a doctor and this is the first short story she has written since high school. No, totally not jealous at all :)

I think I need a snooze now. I'm tired after learning a whole lot of nothing :)
Until next time.

A list of stories I have not yet written because I am a lazy cow...

AKA Maybe if I write them down for all to see, I'll get a move on and produce some kind of awesomeness.

AKA The Fear.

Things I would like to write about:

- Meeting a person once and letting them change your life.
- Another story based on the "Porcelain" idea that isn't shit.
- First person stories with unpleasant main characters.
- Riding the bus with my dad when I was small.
- My relationships with my brothers.
- Dislocation - in all it's forms.
- The meeting place between the land and the sea.
- A story where David Bowie would play/be the main character.
- A story called "Hush"
- Hunger
- A story inspired by "The Trapeze Swinger"

Things I would like to learn:
- The more sophisticated and technical aspects of language. I know a lot but there is always more. Especially with regards to poetry.
- more about apocolypse theories and cult leaders.
- Basic Gaelic and Scots.
- How to use a video camera.
- How to develop my own pictures.
- How to use a sewing machine/knit etc.
- How to play the guitar to at least Patti Smith's standards ;)

Okay, that's a lot more than I thought. I better get going then...

Oh hello, Rose McGowan...

...when you were bonny and didn't feel the need for frequent chemical peels!

Can I have your wig; glasses and clear, plastic, super-cute raincoat? Thanks again!

<3 Gregg Araki *swoony swoon*

Dear Blog, I'm sorry it's been so long...

...since my last post I have returned from Norway and given Laura and the cats big hugs. Then I went back to work and gave the coffee machine and Carrie-Anne big hugs. Then I did a lot of sleeping.

Then we went to Edinburgh for the weekend and saw Iron and Wine. We had an awesome time away even if Sam Beam was convinced that 20 minute jazz instrumentals were necessary in EVERY song.

I haven't written anything since my return but have resolved to do a lot more reading and research. Laura and I read Patti Smith's "Just Kids" and cried at it (me on the inside only - natch!) and then realised that if Patti was 27 before she started properly writing songs then there is hope for us yet! Sometimes I feel so old and that I'm not achieving things at the proper pace. Then I remember that I felt the same way at 19 and again at 20 and pretty much every year since I've been alive so maybe if I stop looking back at all I haven't done yet I can finally start doing things.

I've started tutoring some Higher English kids so I think that will take up more time than I anticipated until the exam in May. I think it will be good to help though. It will give me more of an idea of what I might be like as a teacher and also will help me tighten up my own grammar etc. which is always in danger of slipping :)

In other news, Laura was the featured artist in February's "The List" magazine and on the Central station website. Then she was chosen to go on a sculpture residency in Huntly for two weeks over Easter. I know that it's a great opportunity but selfish Steph is sad because she will miss Laura :(

It feels nice to know that Laura's work is being recognised and I can see her developing as an artist and the themes in which she is concentrating on are really interesting right now.

I think I need to get my arse in gear. Watch this space...

Kathy Acker; the cut-up technique and other things that blew my mind last night...

This is Kathy Acker. She might just be my new favourite find whilst researching out here in Norway. In a nutshell, she focuses on experimental literature and some of her books take a very non-linear narrative path. She also uses collage in her literature. So letters, newspapers, photography etc. can be used together to make up one complete narrative structure. I love this. Like, really love this. I'm not saying that I could recreate it but it's definitely something to be open to. I love the idea of realising the limitations of language and trying to overcome it. There is no reason why we shouldn't overcome it with what is available today technologically.

I have also been researching electronic literature a bit. However, I'm not sure I'm there yet. Or ever will be.

Looking at Acker led me to read up a bit more on William S. Burroughs who I touched on vaguely at uni but was probably to concerned with what I was going to wear that night in town to pay much attention (!)

He came across a way of writing called the "cut-up technique" and basically it's just cutting words from a sentence and rearranging them and hey-ho - new sentence. He did this in the 70's but it had been going on strong long before then. Dadaist poets of the 20's would put written words into a hat and pick them out one by one to create an entirely new poem in order to showcase the basics of the Dadaist manifesto. However, Burroughs was one of the pioneers of it's revival later on.

He was also a fan of the "fold-in" technique which would take two pages of words; fold them both vertically and join them both together to create a new, fully understandable work.

This ability to technically construct your work so that it can work successfully on a variety of levels surprisingly is a new thing for me. I mean, I've always known in would work poetically but I can't write poetry for shit and I don't intend to try now. But being able to do this successfully with prose just seems like such a hard task. Maybe I'm not there yet. I can give it a bash though.

To be continued, once I wade through the pile of information I've tried to catalogue today...

Old Words #2: Porcelain

Porcelain

She was breakable. I knew that as soon as I saw her. She just had that look about her. You know the one, the one that screams “I’m fragile so you’ve got to take care of me.” All pouty lips and flat hair that didn’t sit right. She was so pale too. Not a mark on her. I liked that in her, that untouched purity in her skin. It made me want to talk to her. To find out what her deal was. To see if she needed me.

I first saw her standing outside the video store; sucking on a lollipop in a ridiculously strange fashion. Like it would dissolve her teeth if she left it in her mouth to long. When I eat a lollipop I get bored after a while and crunch it down as soon as it will let me. I figured we were very different people that way. She was standing perfectly straight up against the wall, even her back didn’t arch. From far away it looked like she was standing still but as I got closer I could see her upper body moving slightly from side to side.

“Whatcha doin’?”, I asked because well, I was curious and I didn’t have anything to lose did I?

“Re-aligning my back”, she replied, like people come up to her outside video stores all the time and ask her things that are only her business.

“Erm...do you do this a lot? I mean like, shouldn’t you go to a chiropractor or a doctor or something?”, I made sure that I looked a suitable amount of concerned for a kind but still strange person attempting conversation.

“No they can’t help me anymore,” she said, as I heard her back grind and crack, “I’ve got porcelain bones. I’ll be able to fix it in a second.”

“Oh yeah?”, I asked her, “Like they got low density or something?”

“No”, she said, “I mean all of my actual skeleton is made of porcelain.”

“But how can that be? Porcelain is like a man-made product...”

“I don’t know what to tell you, it just is the way it is. Always has been. I came out that way.” You could tell that she’d been asked these types of questions a million times before but she was nice to me. Not angry like some people would be when a stranger comes up to them when they’re trying to minding their own business and questions their body make up.

I should have left it there and walked away. That would have been the polite thing to do. To let the girl be. But I couldn’t. I had to ask her. I had to know how she came to be. “So what happened? Like did your mother fuck a teapot?”, I didn’t mean it to come out so crude. To be so blunt. But there it was.

“You know what? I’ve never been asked that before.” I was about to feel very pleased with myself and my ability to come up with genius comedic lines about obscure medical conditions like that on the spot when I saw her pouty, fragile lips upcurl slightly. She looked different when she sneered. Maybe she wasn’t breakable after all.

I soon realised that dating a porcelain girl was not without its drawbacks. The girl can’t eat like normal people for a start, it’s all soup and eating lollipops like a crazy person. When I looked closer at her face I saw that her teeth were filled with hairline cracks and chips from years of overestimating what she could handle.

“I once chewed on a piece of granite for 3 whole minutes,” she told me one time. When I asked her as to why she would bother she told me it was just to see what could happen.

“And what did happen?” I asked.

She just smiled her broken smile and said, “Well, I don’t have any back teeth anymore.” And that was all their was to be said on the matter. Both her front teeth looked like they had been smashed head on. An overenthusiastic fourteen year old brace wearer, she explained. Among her handbag essentials were little tubes of super glue for all those just incases. The girl had some stories. The kind that make you want to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your body tensing up in imaginary pain. She told me that when she was seven she fell over and smashed her knee cap in to smithereens, shards of ceramic poking through her skin spurting out a lumpy concoction of crimson dyed porcelain dust. They gave her plastic knees after that like the kind old ladies get when their bones have ground down too much. More resilient that way. I asked her once why she didn’t just keep out of the way of trouble and spend a lot of time sitting down instead of eating gravel, kissing boys with braces and running in dangerous ways. She told me that there was no fun in a life like that and that she wished that someone would break her properly one time just to see what it felt like.

“ You don’t mean that,” I said even though despite myself I could feel my heart beating faster, “As soon as it happened you would freak out and regret it.”

“Would I?” she asked and held her arm out in front of me, “Why don’t you try it and see?”

I held her arm lightly with my hand and ran it up from her wrist to just below her shoulder, my eyes briefly went from where my hand was to her face and I could see her lips parting in a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes imploring me to press harder. I began to do as she wished and she closed her eyes. I saw her lips press together and moved my eyes back to her arm, my fingers had gripped her upper arm tightly and I could see her skin paling even further under my touch. Reluctantly but necessarily I released her, seeing her skin immediately purpling and moved my eyes once more to her mouth. Her lips had upcurled again, mockingly:

“Don’t think for one second that I believe you didn’t want to.”

After that things changed. She meticulously and regimentally set about trying to see how far she could push me. Exactly what it would take for me to break. She would set out traps for me. Leaving big patches of her skin exposed as we watched TV, with some sort of overly violent implement beside her. A hammer or something equally as subtle. Like I was just gonna smash her back in as soon as she turned around.

“Why don’t you just do it?” she would ask me in the middle of the night, “I know you want to.”

“It’s not the right time my love,” I would reply as I laid butterfly kisses all over her body.

I decided to wait until she stopped asking me to do it. I knew I would do it eventually, I would have to. It had gone too far by then, but it’s no fun breaking someone when they expect it to happen. I waited until one night when we were lying in bed. We had spent a nice day together at the beach.

“I do love you, you know,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” I replied.

Then I placed my hand firmly onto her breastbone, I spread it wide. I could see her eyes flutter closed and she tilted her head back further into the pillow. I pressed harder and her lips parted to gasp softly when I heard the first crack. Her eyelids shot open, her eyes big pools of black. “I’m going to do it now,” I said as I pressed even harder. She nodded silently but I knew as soon as it became a reality she would change her mind. It was too late now. I had already done it in my head. I will always remember the gulp she took as her chest gave way. In a clean break, an uneven circular dip formed between her breasts. It looked as though her whole chest must be completely hollow inside. I remember vaguely hearing her gurgling screams but it didn’t sound like her. It sounded as if someone was re-enacting the sounds that she could have made. Sounds from another point in time spliced with the image of the red and purple blotches rising up underneath her unbroken skin.

Old Words #1: Remember This.

For Miss Laura who wanted some old words up on here. They are old and thus now I think they are dreadful. However, we can't be ashamed of our roots now can we ;)

Remember This

“Remember this,” I said, "Right now, our kiss so that when we are old with dresses that match our shoes you won’t forget what we felt like."

You laughed in that polite-but-scared way and asked where I was going when we were old with dresses that matched our shoes. I said that of course I would still be here, or somewhere else with you but that our kisses might be different so to remember this one for I liked it, it felt nice – like that time in the pub when we hadn’t long met and you kissed me just because you thought I looked pretty.
“You won’t think I’m so pretty when I wear beige blouses with purple hats and have grey eyebrow hair.”

You said that I have had a grey eyebrow hair for a while now, you saw it shining in the light the other day when we were in the supermarket and you didn’t want to tell me in case I caused a scene and that no, you wouldn’t think I was pretty in beige and purple together, for I would look altogether frightfully strange. (You didn’t say the phase “altogether frightfully strange” at all really, I just like to put unnecessary words in your mouth when I tell stories about you. You probably just said “strange”, you’re more to the point like that.) You then asked, on that particular day, would I choose purple shoes or beige shoes for really it was that answer which mattered. I told you I hadn’t yet decided and that it would depend entirely upon the season and that obscure colour choices aside, we would feel differently one day and that I was scared.

“Scared how?” you asked, with the furrowed brow you use which I know means concerned but after all this time still makes me think you are annoyed with me somehow.

“Scared in the scared way.” I replied as I didn’t know quite exactly what I meant, only that I had a feeling. A feeling that one day you would kiss me and it would feel differently – like in the night I would have become an entirely different person to you. I told you that I imagined that it would happen gradually and suddenly all at once. (I didn’t know what I meant by that either but I said it. I think I liked the idea of an oxymoronic sentence, for atmosphere.) I told you that one day we would have babies and cats and a garden, with actual plants and “water features” and all these things would eat into our time to make fun of people on the TV and drink coffee in the night time.

You then looked at me strangely and said that if all I was going to miss were times to watch TV and to drink coffee at odd hours then children and plants really were not going to be an issue for us. Then you reminded me astutely that we have two cats already and that, despite all the pressure we do fine as we are.

“That’s what I mean!” I said, for I felt like I had an epiphany and I got very excited.

“Remember before the cats,” I said, ”Before anything grown up and scary, we would kiss like today every day and it was nice. But now we only kiss like this maybe once a week because we have to look after the cats and go to work and see our friends and bleed our radiators – I mean what was that? We had to bleed all the radiators and because we are so undomesticated we didn’t have a key or any sort of tools so we had to use the side of a spoon to do it and it took us like four hours! And then we had to buy a hoover when the old one broke and it was bagless and had a warranty. Then we had to find out what those words were and if they were good words. A warranty? I’m still not convinced we know what that means but we know that we’ve got one for a large amount of time and apparently we’re “very lucky” to have it. And then after all that we have to sleep and then we have no time!”

By this point I was getting very animated and quite shouty in the around-you-but-not-at-you way, so I stopped myself and noticed that you were sitting very quietly. I looked at you for a long time but didn’t know what to say so I just waited. Eventually you spoke, you were steady and quiet and very much like you in these sorts of situations.

“Do you want to send our cats away?” you asked.

“No”, I said, “I love them.”

“Do you want to send our hoover away?”

I pondered this for a moment and said, “No, I love it too. It picks up dust really well and is easy to clean out. All in all it was a fine purchase.”

“Would you like us to have no jobs and friends and wander the earth randomly together, just the two of us?”

“Well kind of”, I said, “That would be fun for a while but then we’d miss people and we’d need new jeans or some hats for the summer, which I would have of course forgotten to pack when we were leaving or something so we’d have to get jobs and then...”

“Then what are you talking about?” You said this before I had finished the sentence which I knew was going nowhere. By now you were doing the furrowed brow with the one swift head shake as you spoke, which meant you were frustrated with me. I knew this for definite because I was frustrated with me too.

“I just mean that now we kiss like today maybe once or twice a week but maybe if we had kids we’d only have time to kiss once a fortnight. Then what happens if our garden gets green fly one July and we only have time to kiss one day that month, or if kid number two gets a weird parent attachment thing (for he’d be the middle child and therefore have issues) and won’t leave us alone and then we won’t have time to kiss ever. So then one day we realise that we haven’t kissed for a whole year and in that time I’ve taken to wearing beige court shoes and eating Ritalin laced Snickers for breakfast and you have the kind of hair that doesn’t move in the wind and you’ll make awful jewellery choices like creole earrings with pearl necklaces...”

“Hold on,” you said, “Why do you get to be the basket case in this scenario and I have to be the PTA attending, golfing Mum?”

“Would you like to trade?” I said.

“Of course,” you said, “everyone knows that kids prefer mentally unstable parents to a supermum type.”

“Super Mum? With the ability to spot a dangerous kitchen utensil from 8 miles? That is you!”

“Hmm, I guess so...can I have super human strength too?”

“Like “The Hulk”?”

“No, not like “The Hulk”... on second thoughts you can be Super Mum.”

“Ok that’s fine with me.” I said, “I suit green better then you anyway and I think one of those golfing jumpers would be fun...”

“You can even get a green one since it suits you so much better.”

“You know what? I think I will. And you can get a tin foil hat...” I looked at your face and you were laughing. “I’m glad you find your impending insanity amusing,” I said, “I’m the one who will have to collect you when you wander into the neighbours garden and steal their macramé plant hangers.”

“How do you know that word?”, your eyes grew wide and startled.

“What word? Macramé?” You nodded silently, “ I watched a TV show and it had them on it, they looked fun. I figured we might need to know these things soon. You know, for when we are old ladies.”

I looked at you. I mean I was looking at you before but this time I really looked at you, in perfect focus and everything and I saw that you were smiling at me.
“What?” I said. Always ready to ruin the moment.

“Do you think we’ll be nice old ladies together?” you asked me.

“Of course,” I replied, “I’ll have a blue rinse and you’ll wear tights that bag around the ankles. We’ll fill all the clichés.”

“Can we live in a small town by the sea and all the local kids will make fun of us because they’ll think we are witches?”

“Yup,” I told you decisively, “And you can own a shopping caddy with millions of dogs on it.”

Your smile was quickly fading.

“Dogs we’ve never wanted or seen before...”

I could see the colour draining from your face.

“It really will be the shopping caddy of all shopping caddies...”

“I don’t think I want to be an old lady with you anymore.”

“Why?” I asked, “Is this all because of my choice of old lady accessories.”

“Yes!” you said, “you imagine all sorts of hideous “accessories” entering our lives for the next fifty years, it’s scary!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, for I really was. I never meant it to snowball into such a vivid picture of the rest of our lives, “How about we live for right now?” I said.

“Right now?” you said.

“How about I make us some coffee?” I said, “And you can go find some sort of overweight people running on TV programme or one where people eat really horrible things for money?”

“How about one with overweight people running towards horrible things to eat for money?” you said.

I smiled, “I’d like that.”

You smiled back, “Me too.”

O

Me- Can…can you hear me?

You- No.

Me- You just replied.

You- I’m choosing not to listen to you.

Me- Well listen. I said, “I’ll put it into words for you, if you like?”

You- We always said that we wouldn’t.

Me- I know but…

You- Sshhh! Not now.

Me- Well when?

You- Um…sometime around never.

Me- But I love you.

You- Too direct. Try again.

Me- Well, um…see sometimes you get flightless birds and…and well, they are kind of like a metaphor for…

You- Too flowery. And also too many undecided words. You are taking up all of my headspace. Try again.

Me- I don’t know you.

You- No you don’t.

Me- But well, you don’t know me either…

You- I don’t want to.

Me-But you can feel it right? You can say that?

You- Maybe.

Me- That’s an undecided word.

You- I’m not saying I am decided. You are.

Me- I don’t have words for how this feels.

You- Why do we need words? We were fine as we were.

Me- But I wanted to tell you.

You- What? What I already know?

Me- Maybe…I don’t know what you already know.

You- Don’t worry. I know.

Me-Oh. And do you feel it too?

You- I don’t know.

Me- How can you not know how you feel?

You- I choose not to. It won’t make a difference.

Me- It won’t?

You- Do you think it will?

Me- No. I guess not.

You- “Guess” is an undecided word too you know?

Me- I know. I don’t want to be decided anymore.

You-Are we finished now?

Me- I suppose.

You- Do you feel better now we have spoken our words.

Me- No, I feel worse.

You- I thought that might happen.

Me - Sorry.

You- Can you get out of my head now please?

Me- Yes. Sorry.

You- Don’t be sorry when you can be absent.

Me- Did you get that in a greeting card?

You- No.

Me- I was trying to be funny.

You- I know. It won’t make me want you in my head any longer.

Me- Ok, I’m sorry I’m going now.

You- Good. Goodbye.

Me - …

You-Are you gone?

Me - …

You-Hello?

Me - …

You- Ok, so you’re gone then?

Me - …

You- I…I love you too.

Me – [breathes]

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear You,
Please find attached a copy of the telepathic conversation I believe we had two hours prior. I took the liberty of transcribing it so I could email yourself and find out for definite if we indeed had this conversation. Please email back a confirmation or denial of such events.
Kind regards,
Me.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Me,
No more words now, telepathic or otherwise. Please.
You.

I see the Norwegian sea...

...which is of course the same as the Aberdonian sea except clearer and closer to my face as it is currently lapping up against the flat I'm staying in right now!

I arrived in Stavanger on Friday and spent the weekend in an awfully posh hotel as Mr Alan Wilson had left his flat keys in London where he was away on business. Silly boy! However, we made good use of the comfiest bed ever invented and I enjoyed generally finding my feet in the city centre. Everyone who knows me knows how useless I am with directions so I have already been lost approximately 812 times.

Today is my first day in Alan's flat so while he is at work I thought I should update this.

It is amazing being this close to the sea and everytime I lift my head up from typing there seems to be a new boat sailing past. The sky has been so clear since I arrived and apart from the freezing cold (which serves me right for forgetting any sort of winter wear) the weather and the scenery has been lovely.

I miss Laura and the cats immensely but this is okay. It's good to miss people and things and it gives me time to appreciate what I have.

It's good to have time time away. To be alone and to enjoy the silence and the pace that life should always be. Norwegians apparently enjoy a slower pace. No-one seems to be rushing anywhere and on Sundays practically everything is closed so people go for walks and just enjoy the simpler things in life. I like this.

I'm hoping to work on a fair bit of writing while I'm out here. I'm reading some Janet Frame and some Miranda July and trying to get myself into a headspace where my work is truly fictionalised. I think it's important to try and think out with oneself and that these things can be hard when real life (work etc.) is constantly in the way and you and your life is constantly in your thoughts.

I find myself getting consistently more and more annoyed with the way some writers I am reading just now (mostly newer writers, online and such) feel the need to dramatise every single word. I believe that trying to bring so much art and meaning to every syllable can get in the way of simply good storytelling. From personal experience I know that the stories I have read that have changed me the most are about the most mundane yet universal themes.

I am interested right now in the silence of people. How to describe people and situations without any dialogue. This is frustrating to me as someone who likes to write as I find my chosen medium so limiting yet it's all I can see and it's all that I understand and all that I want to understand.

I used to wish that I could appreciate visual art and music in the way that I do words. However, now that I have this I find that words can't communicate art and they can't communicate music effectively the way that art and music can enhance words.

Maybe I need to start working with all three, or maybe I need to realise my own limitations.

I'll keep trying for now. (this is not a dramatic sentence, k?)

I see the sea...

This is a picture of the sea and some boats that I took last week. There are lots of boats, but you can barely see them as they are so far away. I must learn how to zoom on my iPhone :)

When I was little, I used to live close to the sea and my bedroom window looked out at this amazing view of the water. I used to make up stories in my head about what all the ships were doing out there and what they were saying to each other. Apparently, I would just sit and look out of the window for hours without saying a word just making up these stories in my head. I vaguely remember doing this. I just wish I could remember what they were all about.