Flesh Into Gear

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I'm somewhat behind in my blogging game because I have ideas but nothing I really wanted to share, or at least, nothing I'm ready to share. That doesn't make sense, I know what I mean. 

I have ideas of where I want to go, I'm keeping track of photographs that I've taken that worked very well indeed and photographs that could be better and then photographs that hint at where I want to go. I'm sat on a set that I took with Lily that I am excited to share but also scared for a variety of reasons, (I have shared a sneak peak on instagram though - I am not logical). I'll have more to say about that.

It's funny that laying in bed last night I had ideas of what to write, like I did when I came home from work the other day, but now, sat here, I have nothing pressing to say. I'm eating a mainly vegan diet, I accidentally cut out caffeine. My adult bad skin is still bad and I'm still unhappy with my body but I feel like I'm working towards something, and that over-shadows everything else.

every heart is a beating piece of shit

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I sit on stories. Decisions that have become tales etched onto my skin, as much of me as my tattoos, my scars. I think of the things I have done, and those things I have yet to do, for my life is not over yet. I think of my stories and if there is any meaning that be gleaned from them, if there is any merit in sharing, what at times feels like, a tragedy.

I keep different time to others, sometimes I am awake at 3am and watching the sunrise in the summer, at times I'm in bed by 7pm, curled up under duvets against the cold and hard world. I feel floaty and heavy at the same time. I remember everything but then feel like I remember nothing of substance, nothing that is really worth it.

There are hints, that sometimes make me believe I missed something big. That maybe I went left instead of right, or vice versa, or that that was the moment that I should have learnt I could fly.

But through nature or nurture it's always the bad things that capture my attention, the memories that I remember when laying in bed are never sweet, they're just every time I've ever been told that I am not good enough, and that I won't be good enough. Which is funny because I have pressed people for those words time and time again, as if hearing that I am not enough from another is validation of sorts. For someone who isn't actually a fan of confrontation, when I'm backed against the wall my bite is just as bad as my bark.

I remember, clear as day, laying in convalescence, shouting down the phone to the man who had decided he didn't care enough that that was exactly what he should be saying to me. He tried, as men are want to do, to use platitudes, "It's not you, it's me", "I'm not in a place for a relationship" etc etc. With, exhaustion(?), weariness(?) he eventually admitted he didn't care enough about me, and as I want to do, I felt vindicated. 

I'm not saying he's a bad person for not wanting me, I only took this meandering tale because I've just read this on Man-Repeller about breaking-up shame.

But all of this is chaff the the wheat, I've been reading so much fantasy and sci-fi and magic lately that real world, once again feels lacking. And the only person who can change that is me.

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what we don't understand we can make mean anything

Have you heard of Sisyphus? He's a figure from Greek Mythology, a dude that put death in chains, after death was liberated and Sisyphus caught, Sisyphus was set (as punishment) to roll a stone up a hill over and over again for eternity. Sisyphus wasn't the only person in mythology to capture Death, there's a Russian folk tale about a soldier who captures death, that was adapted for The Storyteller with John Hurt.  

Albert Camus uses this as an analogy for the absurdist ideas of humanity. Absurdism is the conflict of which there is no meaning to life but that we keep looking for it all the same, that we are not 'good' or 'bad' and things are not 'good' or 'bad'. It is that they are what they are, and what happens happens. It was mentioned by Chuck Palahniuk in Fight Club.

It's a point that's been pushed to me by many a psychologist and psychiatrist, and when faced with the Absurd there is a want for suicide. Camus argues that to complete suicide is to admit that life is not worth living, and is a way out of absurdity. Camus also thinks that, ultimately, Sisyphus was happy though, so I don't put too much faith into all of his writings on suicide.

But this is less about suicide and more about stories, and storytellers. I've always been captured by the written word, as long as I can remember I've read, and I remember each story and the feelings I had from them. I've placed storytellers and their stories high in my life, and hold anyone that can tell a good story in high regard. I hunger over the written word like oxygen. 

The other day, sleeping between night shifts I had a bizarre dream. I'd taken a lot of Ecstasy tablets, over 30, because I thought they were mints. In the dream I tasted the minty-ness of these tablets. I spent the rest of my dream in a bizarre night club, sloped like the Brixton Academy, and I was desperately trying to purge these tablets into an empty ice cream tub. I was with others, who I know by face if not by name, They reassured me that when I came 'up' on the Ecstasy I hadn't purged the world would be beautiful. I can remember it all in such vivid detail, and in the dream when the Ecstasy did take an effect the world was bathed in a red sheen that when I awoke made me want to take photographs that feel like Sin City

There is a lot I could take from this dream, which I won't divulge here. Similarly I could take it as it is, that my brain is firing neurons; processing information and sorting through the filing cabinet that is my experiences, my thoughts, my feelings and a whole lot of other-ness.

"We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.”

- Chuck Palahniuk

Cardigan - Brave Soul
Jeans + Top - H&M
Boots - Dr Martens

If you like what you've seen you can also find me on twitter, instagram or facebook