My journals, revisited

I’ve gotten into the habit of writing a journal, which I began when travelling and after some encouragement from my Dad (who is always right about such things).

Often, what I write is basically a stream of consciousness. Sometimes the words veer abruptly from wittering about pancakes into blasts of worried sentences that seem to come out of nowhere, stuff I’m clearly anxious about, but didn’t know I was until it poured out. I also often write down quotes from books or people that strike me as interesting, or inspirational.

I find I usually have no recollection of the words when I go back and read them again- it’s like it pours out of the brain and onto the page. This is probably why I find writing a journal helpful; it’s like the mental equivalent of unclogging a blocked sink.

However, it also means that revisiting the journal becomes strangely enjoyable. I rediscover whole parts of my life I literally forgot I lived through, and it feels like my life as a whole gets bigger and fuller as a result of refreshing those memories. I can’t believe how many trips I’ve been on when I wasn’t journaling that have almost totally disappeared from my mind. I spent an entire year living in Thailand once, and my recollections are pretty limited to vague impressions of yellow t-shirts, shopping malls, children with identical haircuts, brightly lit beach parties, and myself wandering around some empty streets drinking iced coffee out of a plastic bag. It makes me sad to think about what I’ve lost.

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5 things the internet is telling me to do today, that I will not be doing

Hi, everyone, it’s Saturday.

This is a list of things that I, after careful consideration, will NOT be doing today.

  1. Applying contouring makeup.

“Highlighting and contouring are two crafty li’l tricks that you can use to enhance your bone structure and make it look like you’re constantly under the most flattering movie lighting possible. Even if you’re not going to an event, it’s fun to experiment with elements of ~drama~ in your makeup.  Let’s get to it!

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I mean, we all know this isn’t happening today. Or ever. Right?

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Brexit: The Musical

The slightly sing-song cadence and rhythm of Theresa May’s catchphrase when she says these words…

“Brexit…means…Brexit. (Pause) And WE’RE going to make a success of it.” (1.10, this video)

…has been rattling around in my head for a few months. It sounds like she’s about to break into a full-on jazz hands number.

Waiting around in an airport with my partner, sleep deprived, this idea became a quite lengthy synopsis for a very terrible production of ‘Brexit: The Musical’.

Waiting now for this to catch the attention of some big players in the West End and at some point I’m sure the royalties will come pouring in.

Opening scene

Dark, empty bar with just one barman silently cleaning glasses. An old man sits alone in the spotlight at a table, nursing a pint. He wears a tattered shirt, no jacket and a Union Jack tie.

Another old man, better dressed in a posher suit, enters. The spotlight follows him as he slowly approaches the other characters. 

Posh Man: I say, is anyone sitting here? [does double take] Oh. Farage. [pause] It’s been a long time. How…are you?

Farage: Cameron. Well, I’ll be damned. How have you been? Continue reading

Suffering from Post-Brexit brain fever

Here are some lyrics the Killers wrote and then crossed out:

I’ve got Docs, but I’m not a doctor.

I’ve got a neck, but I’m not a necrophiliac.

I’ve got legs, but I’m not a legislator.

I’ve got plums, but I’m not a plumber.

I’ve got mince, but I’m not a minstrel.

I’ve got toes, but I’m not a toaster.

I’ve got soup, but I’m not a supermodel.

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Today I heard Donald Trump described as looking like ‘the guy who would play the president in a porno’.

I don’t know who said it, but I like it, and am therefore making a note of it.

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