07
May
09

In the house in a Heartbeat

Someone’s in my apartment.

I know it.

My roommates left today. Left a mess behind, too. Anyway, i’m afraid of everything and there’s someone here, listening to the clicking of this keyboard just on the otherside of that door over there which looks more and more suspicious with every passing minute. And there, a noise, a door closing, one of my doors, and rustling of–i don’t know–lives colliding.

I’ll try to focus. I said i’d be more frequent. Apparently i lied. I’ve been meaning to write this huge manifesto on here of the art movement i’m architecting. I’m surprised that’s a word. Architecting. Sounds imaginary, more so than the rest of these symbols. Where was i? I may be losing it a bit lately. Life’s kind of unhinging itself in weird ways. Trouble’s following me and all of my friends. Too, the end to my imaginary life is almost done. But, wait, i was on the movement. I might get it up here sometime tonight or tomorrow morning or when i return from Austria.

Trinity Ball’s tomorrow. Should be quite a time. No idea what kind of time, but things are sure to be a bit crazy. After that, back to Barcelona, then to Munich and Ludwig’s castle, finally to Salzburg. My dad’s quite excited about it. Vicarious living.

What’ve i been doing lately? Too much drinking, mostly. I need to do less of that. Oh, i went back to Northern Ireland last weekend for the third time. Belfast is such a stupid city and i really don’t like it, but Giant’s Causeway is one of the coolest places on earth. Truly. Too, if i didn’t go up there, i would’ve spent the weekend in Dublin by myself. No fun, that. But, yeah, just been going wild as we tend to do.

Been doing a lot of thinking lately. My head’s in a weird place and kind of spiralling all over. I’m realising again that my memories are all barely valid and always falling apart. It’s nice to have a photographer, though. I have one, we all have one here. It’s nice. I can trace my weeks by the pictorial evidence left on facebook. My memories are all written on raindrops and sand, but these, these are real. I was at these places. I’ve seen them, touched them, smelled them. I’m alive.

Getting a bit weird here. All stream of consciousness and out of order. My head needs an editor.

Been writing again. Two shorts in the last week. They’re very short, hovering around 500 words, which is so much shorter than i thought i could ever tell a story. If you’re a regular to my site here, you’ve surely noticed my rambling incoherency. Strange that i should fancy myself a writer. These new stories, they’re not like the ones i used to write. I never want to write the way i used to. Also, i probably won’t be sending any of the new ones out for publication. Not that they’re bad, i just hate trying to get published. Writing e-mails, looking for magazines, so tiresome. Also, these stories need to be right. Correct. They need to be part of the aesthetic i’m trying to make. It’s a bit like grappling in the dark searching for a yellow feather in a room full of crows. Enough though, i’ll put up the whole atmosphere of my ideas eventually. It’s sure to be a gargantuan post and highly nonsensical and incoherent and structureless, which is actually the best way for it to be given the nature of the ideas.

Where were we?

They’re here. Who they are and what they want, i’ll never know, but they’re inside my apartment. Not ninjas because i never would’ve heard it. Ghosts maybe. Monsters–i certainly hope not–i’d probably already be dead if it was a monster. Ghosts seems most likely. Unless, of course, we’re being rationale and it’s a human or–and what a thought!–nothing at all.

I’m getting all wired and wound and lost here.

The words scraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamble on. Next time, which will either be very very soon, like in a couple of hours, or quite long from now. Leaving Saturday and arriving back the following Saturday.

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