Ketchup

kI have not written in ages, there have been too many things afoot.
1) The isles of Orkney where we drove 12 hours to see the whales I was determined dwelt there: they do not. Magnus and Magnus (apparently everyone is called Magnus) told us that Old Sam Jenkins or some such goes out on his boat everyday and in 30 years has only seen them thrice. O the disgusting lies of the Scottish tourist board.
2)Spain with Blue and famille. I met a tiny catling in a bar, she was shaven and missed an eye. I plotted all manner of things in my head so I could take her home, another one to add to the Miss-meow collection, having acquired the first as a reaction to my "swine flu". In the words of Lulu-love "the ultimate impulse buy".
3) Denner work. in switzerland. in their equivalent of asda.It is the place where the mad congregate; the OAA (over age anorexics) prostitues, the men who talk instead of thinking, the woman who does her shopping everyday in roller skates. I spend 12 hours a day trying to rise above, pretending the boxes of goods I open to fill the shelves are all Christmas presents and I am excited to see what's inside. I feel like I smell Denner on me, I even dream of my fly rescuing endeavors, where I try and save the ones who persist in crawling over the cheese/yoghurt in the giant fridge and freeze to death. It's their idea of heaven. As everything, they are ever determined to get and stay there.

Anyway, as I said I have not written in a while. maybe it's because some things are sacred and I feel like I would have to save up for years to have enough of anything-skill, thought, eloquence- to stamp it onto something. I think what I mean really, is that I wish I would write more these days; write it and feel it less. Switzerland is not treating me kindly, and I miss my Mr Blue. I couldn't really find the words to wring for the emotions that are just sitting on their little throne and at present wish me to suffer. But now, an itch in my fingers, a hum through me and TADAH I am a vocation.The breath catches purple when it has something to say, and I know my voice has changed.Changed itself, or been changed by a riot or really "feeling it" or something cruel. I don't know yet.
This preserving of thoughts is only an arrogant self-love anyway. And I do hate people who love themselves. Shouldn't trust people who fall in love so easily.