..dear reader..

Didn't go out today, snowed heaps more overnight. No spliffage... It brings back that filthy, human condom feeling, lower than a pet. More at the weekend hopefully, so I can go back to being a spiritual, intelligent poet. Tired but bedroom is freezing, cabin fever, whats the point to busy turning inward, not in a positive sense but into the shit and murk. Is is possible that part of the reason I got hurt again and again is due to a mild form of autism. Is worth inquiring about, some kind of diagnosis would be very useful. Although it will be embarrising, weeping in gratatude at some psychologists feet. Tomorrow I go back to studying, dishes. Need to get my grades up, I get a lot out of it ever if the grades upset me,Family Guy upsets me. Last week I was laughing my head of at it. sono stanka Company at the weekend weather permiting of course, good.

and I am proud. What can I say the lord giveth, he taketh. I would rather he had just left me to it. How am I supposed to feel, something other than an antique night gown and naked fingers. There's been tears but worse than that is illness. Sickened by the sex and violence in Toy Story 3. Thank fuck its snowing. It's not a time where you can get by on your own, no one understands that better than me. But is the gloating necessary, is it a good idea? I am warm though and this junior is sleeping in seperate but nearby room, Any footsteps in the night are his or in another flat.I have his birth certificate and everything. What a luxury that is, I feel like a proper lady when I hold it. Finally I have all the main paperwork for a ticket to toyland. Drama therapy darling...

bloody police.. I never complained about my dad, my sister, or my girlfriend I never wept about baby killing djs in interview rooms or raping judges on tape. I didn't help with ops against drug, people or arms traffiking I didn't have relationships with officers or called them dad I never drew maps of networks on whiteboards never took little children in their rapist's clothes to authorities and held their hands as they were examined. I didn't turn up in stations, drugged, bleeding, weeping or told them where the bodies were buried. I never complained. I was never arrested or resisted I was never cautioned or armed I never confessed or begged to be kept in And they never gave me a duvet and brought in chinese.

three poems published, ta da one about goldie locks, one about authority figures and one about carrying drugs over mountains and being fucked on a big wooden cross. Whats more I'm not homeless, not homeless Its making me me nausous, I behind in the studies but loving it, playing to my strengths not taking it too seriously that a bad grade makes me a worthless human being. Education will also be about other peoples ideas, there is nothing wrong with rejecting that sometimes. My hall is yellow with a purple carpet I have a poster of a new york taxi and green wall hanging thing, a mirror, a lampshade and suddenly I'm in heavan. Ditch the battle for compensation, ignore the travesties of power and injustice I have a veranda and a wee broon sofa for one that cost £35. My god the social worker is the embodiement of some anciet soul devouring demon. Seriously.. all though probably not in the literal baby eating sense. I hope. I do my best but it isn't long befo...

He didn't come through until half past but I could hear him, the rattle of plastic on plastic and the exposed floor boards. Hear his voice raising and falling in pitch as he copied and created in role play. As usual I can't get up when I first wake, the comfort feels to precious to move on from. When he brought buzz, woody and jessie through I was happy to see them all. He looked healthy and happy if maybe a little unsure because my bed was in the living room. Decorating always brings back memories of my parents home improvements in all the houses we lived in. Watching my dads extensive sanding, scrubbing and sweeping in preperation to turn each council house, flat and rural shack into a fitting setting for us who had been exciled from society for being working class and educated. His pain staking cutting in, and choice of colours that usually looked pretty much the same to me. Sometimes he would ask me if I thought something needed another coat or let me make the dec...

First proper nights sleep since getting here instead of lieing awake terrified at the thought of women with notebooks, pens, procedures and very limited experience of the world. I feel their nails digging themselves into my soft pink soul. I had to learn to shut up and do what I'm told when it came to women, they hurt my babies, brained my angels. Now they are judying my mental health, my ability to protect wee man. Fuck that! It's a definite issue to work on. It's not all women, just a lot of them. It's just that when men look at men it feels like they see me, more often anyway. Of course they talk a lot of bull but the eyes, there is not threat there. Often with women, there is a narrowing, the raising of barriers, a knitting needle to the heart. I will talk about it, try and explain how I feel, that I often don't feel heard. The respect I have for them as women working to make other peoples lives better is not at equal to the respect I feel they hav...

It has a balcony that doesn't get any light and no flooring until the state pays for it but it's my name on the lease and it's in a place I feel comfortable.. I can forget about the sniffy bably informed social worker, the insensitive women's aid staff, for tonight anyway..

There isn't any point in feeling guilty about it, like it's my fault, like it is something I just have to accept. I feel intimidated, bullied, undermined and invisible by most women. Their words their philosophies make me feel threatened. It's okay. I'm almost out of refuge, I don't have to speak to anyone I don't want to. It is my life, my health, 'no one has the right to judge' but they do. They give you keys, tell you who can visit and what time they must leave, they discriminate and make assumptions based on an ancient mythology They are fascist. I was looking for the number for my doctor when the phone rang. Gossip, Standing in the way of control, It was the housing. The flat is ready. I could of wept. I don't feel safe here any more, I feel their piercing eyes their prying fingers everywhere. The cutting words rain down like bullets. Their generalisations and beliefs, as heavy as the cross. The cross I lifted alone, the cross I...

As usual I only remember good advice when it's too late. I've been told not to disclose to people that arn't properly trained or emotionally equipped. Stupidly I answered as many questions as I could even though I wasn't comfortable with it. After all these years still a disclosure whore, giving it all away for fuck all. In the middle of asking about the babies and wee ones slaughtered while people laughed, I never mentioned the laughter I couldn't remember anything the way they were speaking to me. She has a go about the state of the flat and suggests that the mess is the reason I have a cold. She has a point but the timing was awful, really insensitive. Behold the all mighty power of women's aid.. I don't think so.. After I got my mate to come down with an inhaler because I was getting light headed and not my breathing wasn't working right I felt much better. Asthma, chest infection, coughin up the steroids, no reliever.. They didn't e...

My support worker was round today to help fill out a form, she was looking quite lovely. She dresses younger than most women her age and it really suits her. I was looking at my matches again and was totally unaffected apparently I'm back to being gay.. and broody. It's difficult with wee man this now, partly because he is 3 which means high maintance which makes me irratiable and very cute of course which makes for severe guilt over the grumpyness. The other reason is because of the work I'm doing, going over stuff, remembering, writing. I've seen kids his age die in horrific, slow, agonising deaths. It kind of bums people out when I talk about that stuff, or I get told how unlikely it is.. I might doubt some of the pictures in my head but the emotional memory is unquestionable. Sometimes they would they would give us time, make out like everything was different and act all human. Once they were confident me and the wee one had bonded properly they would ...

I do love the stats, over 100 views now! The further away they are the more excited I am, one view from Vietnam, cool. Very shallow I know but it takes my mind of the letter to accompany to subject access request. No more than 4 pages... giving details about reported incidents which is very difficult because all the trauma, mental illness and drugs makes it pretty dam near impossible to remember single incidents. But I remember trying, memorising things that happened which made things worse at the time and is still inaccessible. Think I will talk to lawyer first, not sure though. 'Personal touch quean, thats how you got us' 'But I've tried, over and over and over.' 'Please. Give us a chance, were on tenderhooks.' 'Your on tenderhooks? Trouble sleeping? Problems giving your family the quality time they deserve?' 'Were sorry. Please. One last try.' 'I'm still working adamt I! I keep thinking its my life now, my will, m...

I got a lot done today really and I resisted the urge to not leave that flat by putting some washing out and taking it back in again. So.. did she, didn't she? Is the women described in a poem called fighting talk who lifted a child out of my arms the same women I opened a door for on Monday? Is this another job that has no objective other than taking me down so I can be taken out. Or is just me seeking out risk in the belief that if I go to it I can limit the damage. She hasn't gotten back in touch since I said I had been talking to the police, she's a very busy woman. And tomorrow, take the house, refuge is getting me down. Be prepared for phonecalls, from law. Phone the support, don't let her get me down. Training is limited in depth and width, she is doing a job this shit is not her life. Ask if she can print stuff for me. Do other stuff, no names no writing about past, go for walk, study, clean, talk.

I am working on a subject access request, not an easy thing. It's the kind of thing I used To to fantasie about, admited I was a subject admitting I had rights. sometimes losing information, things I have told people about and never heard again is like losing a child. All feelings of being part of something of being visable and needed, lost. I never talked to get it out, it was away of keeping hold of it without letting it destroy me, of documenting my fight and what I was up against so that I would know what it took to get in the broken state that you get when you fight. I needed everything counted so I would know how long it took and never doubt myself.

Maybe it wasn't fair on her but you can't get her say. Well.. She did say she was feeling like shit so its probably a good idea she doesn't drive.. The dust and teeth shavings drill off by the almost rehabilitated concentration camp dentist were predictably inhaled then settled in bronchial tissue. Prone to inflammation especially if I have been getting lazy about remembering the steroid inhaler, it feels like my lungs are packed with fibre glass, again. The more uncertainty I hear in other peoples voices about taking the flat the more certain I am. I will feel safer, women's aid staff will not have keys to my flat, I will not be living in a building full of women who have put their hands up and admitted to being in abusive relationships. It will be mine, mine and wee man's, with shops, takeaways and parks nearby.

Everywhere needs decorated, everywhere is dodgy cheap wallpaper and patches where the holes from shelves have been filled in. The floorboards are a mess, but they are putting in a new bath and there is good flooring in the kitchen, which is tiny, but has a balcony, which probably wont get much light. Most of the views are of houses, other flats, the last row that looks out onto the field, where they put the dodgers. I love it and there is a spot in the big bedroom that looks out between flats to trees, field and some space. I will need a table there. This week I have been multi agencied up and went to the dentist. A not very charming easter european woman. Most butchers treat the flesh they are working on with more gentleness but she has put in five fillings, including work on my front two. I put my tongue against my teeth when I nervous and don't usually floss. Two more on the other side, descale and polish and I'm done. Think I will take the local next time though...

There has been a bit of pink sofa action recently to. An perfomance aritist got back in touch, she's been off and on back again. She suggested meeting up some time when she is around I said yes that would be cool. I haven't heard back. And a newbie. Who said you wasn't suprised I wanted to be a writer because my profile was so good. I was considering carrying her child. Until she said she is thinking of joining the prison service. There has only been two out lesbians, (other than the heroin useing mommy's girl who buys her hash from a guy who was a first love until he raped me) who I have had a semi sustained verbal interaction with, one of them is a prison warden and the other wants to be one. Hmpf I have had 365 views on match.bloodycom and 6 unread emails at least 3 of which are from lads with photos I noticed. Can't afford the subscription to read the mail though.. Men notice me more. Maybe its the different profile photos, the lads get the one we...

I am feeling like the walks along, the pitches and the burn with headphones on isn't such a good idea. Like I shouldn't use that short cut to a and bs. Like words are too beautiful to describe something so ugly. I'm thinking I'm working to fulfil promises I made to myself. I'm feeling like painting some walls and working on my shoulders so more. Feel like taking my time. Wish I could be arsed writing more though..

She said a few times, making sure I understood they are not in the best position to give support for that sort of stuff. Then who is? Not enough people talk, and those that do only talk about certain aspects. The only way proper support can be put in place for people like me is if people like me are supported properly to share what they know. Round and round we go. There is always too much about confidentiality. I hate thought of what I say not going any further, we will never disclose.. please disclose away, thats why I'm talking. You don't have the training the support me properly use the information to find the right support. But thats outside our remit.. I'm supported my antidepressants and much improved sense of my own value these days. I wont be making the same mistakes. I think I need a word with Izzy's man. My god the lawyer dude was everything I could dream of in a lawyer dude. Old but not too old, grey haired with notes that must of been incomp...

The short walk home through a close September dusk picks me up I follow a gray path through green by the redish burn of other peoples homes. The orange stars in the mid distance glitter on the textures of streets,roundabouts and warehouses. Down the hill then I cross the road without looking twice or stuttering my stride. I look down the burn, it's froth and stretch finds a home in me.

The extracts from my medical records arrived today. Nothing in them that will be much use, lots of letters about missed appointments and nothing from my shrink before H. A letter from the police saying they had nothing, but it looks like they might have searched using my new name. I'm going to pay the tenners and see what if anything is on file. Data Protection Act, which has probably meant anything I need know has been destroyed. My god their is fuck all rational about bureaucracy. Lots of appointments though. At least I have sorted out an opportunity to talk about some of my dead babies, and a name. Couldn't face going out this afternoon. Felt so guilty about it, its September and sunny and I let the boy watch TV all afternoon. A couple of blast of 'Sunshine on Leith' and a mini mediate and I moved away from focusing on the hopelessness of attempting to get information from secret societies that are rich and armed when your skint and scared and thought abo...

I dreamt about George Micheal last night, father figure. It was lovely. I really wish I had taken better care of that back up disk. I dreamt in the hotel that I chucked it out. I'm worrying now that it was a multiple rearing her head and It wasn't a dream and did I actually chuck it. As for all this blaming canabis rubbish, stop it!

It as been great, getting help really can make your day. It's to easy to yet used to getting or not getting it. I was told that it might be worth going for it now, five years ago. I thought that was pretty laughable but I remember the serious faces, it was the wrong time. Now though, I'm pushed forward by my son and the way he lights up the room. Not made for corners and keeping his head down, not that anyone is. Tomorrow I am planning on phoning Izzy's promise to ask for help with the cica. There are reasons why alot of the research and training about ritual abuse is here. I know I have talked to them before but I was also coming into or stumbling out so major truama or crisis. The literature and the poems will keep me swidgy mind safe.. hail ale ..

I think the course is going to answer a lot of questions I have had and further my understanding of loads of issues relating to art and the twentieth century. Which is really cool because thats stuff I wonder about a lot. How my experiences relate to violence in the 20th century, how it was accepted as part of Western culture and traditions. I can see myself getting specific it's exciting. The poetry is in the pity. The best 20th Century literature - Woman on the Edge of Time because morals matter, but 1984 is pretty good to. Maybe I should have read more. Extra sensory stuff is important to me because of a faith in evolution, that is physical in structure of our brains and bodies, beyond an ancient liberal faith in the progressive nature of civilised society. Society is not 'civilised' it belligerent and oppressive. Increasing communication between each other and within out selves brings better lives to everyone, or can do..

I'm glad its saturday. Busy week so he's watchin zingzillas, were both still in our jammies. Book burning what an idiot. They should build a mosque right on the site in recognition of the extremist act of ugly architecture that was the twin towers. Healing through aestheticism. Seriously though, how the fuck would it be disrespectful? A multicultural centre that included a mosque and a church would work for me but which denomination? And as for Dawkins going on about how bad religion is, that for good people to do evil it takes religions, what bull. Its none of his business anyway, he is a bad as the antievolutionists. For good people to act evil takes organisation, religious, economic, social whatever. Religion is just a way of validating and internalising social structure. It mediates between individuals and their strength but it has contributed to some pretty funky art.. Enough marxist ranting. xxxx

Tomorrow, is Friday. I wish I had bought more food. and some beer. Nevermind, we are not going to starve and I have baccy. Tonight I added some sentences to the first chapter I've lost my back up disk and don't even care. Don't have the heart for poetry at the moment I want to do something more technical. It's just that pushing thats needed to write, it is beginning to wake up. With this stuff though there is nothing to be gained from trying to force except deteriorating mental health. By writing about it I can forgive myself for the mistakes I made the last time I was in a place like this. Its not easy knowing where my boundaries are, all those words. Some go somewhere, somewhere very different, some relate to definite observable, document things others are just about the past.

He eats lots of bread and honey, some bread and cheese then a banana. Its a while before footie and I don't want to sit in front of the telly all that time so wee go outside. I suggest the playroom before noticing there isn't any cars in the car park. There is no one let us in and he throws a tantrum. Pummels me with his little fists, screaming 'No Sorry' because I say im sorry the door is locked. I walk a few steps away and let him scream feeling very ill. Then we go outside and play rolleypolley. He has probably forgotten about it but I get an apology and a hug which makes me feel a little better but still pretty ill. After going up the climbing frame and down the shoot a few times we go inside. I do some ironing to stop myself from having a spliff. On the way to footie I wished for about the 5th time this fortnight that I had shaven my legs and was wearing short, or at least shorter trousers. It's lovely and he is in his buggy, happy to be outside he ...

A bit late getting up, the battery on my phone had ran out and dude doesn't come through as soon as we wakes anymore. He plays in his room. He puts the telly on and the last of grans free range eggs. He messes about but I get him to eat the bits of yolk that hasn't hit the floor. I scoff mine down, yolk not quite runny enough but still flavoursome and lovely. At the nursery he sits down next to his groups leader without a problem. I was going to mention he hasdn't pooped for a couple of days but he looks so settled next to her I just leave, happy with my kiss and hug. Outside its beautiful and warm. A few wispy clouds in pale blue September sky, I get out the donated headphones and walk down past the pitch then along by the burn, sucking in an earned, guilt free mini spliff. On the long pedestrian bridge, the view and beats pushes the light a little further into my broken corners. Back home, make tea, roll a cigarette then phone the law people after a couple o...

It don't think going to get legal advice alone is an option at the moment. I feel my eyes rolling and my blood pressure plumating at the thought of it. Hopefully I can get someone to come with me, then go to a and bs afterwards, for a chill out. It will not be easy. The bloody overview again, yuck. My god the weather is fucking awful, the only people outside are running, sideways rain. Wee man quiet at the moment. I'm breaking the rules in the kitchen, during the day too! Not eating any fruit today, weve ran out and I'm not going to the shops in that. Left overs for tea, pizza, sausages and frozen peas. I'm sure it will work for him. Talking about the myths surrounding domestic abuse and got good marks. Except the bit about people who come from abusive families being more likely to be abuse, I always get that one wrong. Hate the thought of people who have been treated right maltreating others. Surely, its not their fault they are fucked up. Let ,it go....

I ironed today. Its not its the first time. I have often ironed juniors leaving the house clothes. It was different this time though. I wanted more. I wanted to fill drawers and cupboards with cheap cotton ironed clothes. The energy needed to be part of a local extended family was forgotten pretty quickly. Christ even if everyone was sorted its tiring all that knowing, caring and bonding. Loads of hugs from the newbie, they forget fuck all. I have decided that sunday night wine, ironing and chill out is going to be part of the routine. Mondays will be busy and I think I can congratulate myself. I'm so glad we are here. The area, the nursery, the poems being printed, the people, christ even the bloody weather has been right. I'm eating fruit for fuck sake. Think I might not take the antidepressants for a couple of days, I'm starting to get pretty scared its going to well. Things always went amazing until I found myself in intensive care or much much wors...

It's not as strong but still there, that ache that hates myself for not just letting things go. To be very grateful for the life and soul I have left, a fear or knowledge that the drive for some sort of justice, recognition or compensation is a drive to obvilvion. But it isn't the same as cutting my arms, shagging an idiot or getting pissed. This voice, a face a history that told me safety depended on me not shutting up. Someone who was incapable of knowing or doing anything about what would keep me safe. A faith and it is a faith. That kept and keep and dispite the glowy people, voices from above and hugely powerful secret societies. That I am different and born into a situation that demands that I be even specialer. Words like 'destiny', 'prophet', and 'genius' are same as every other word. An attempt to describe something, to define something that is constantly changing. Like 'love', 'hate', 'truth' or 'shoe...

Felt pretty good when I woke this morning. After the mail yesterday I wasn't expecting to, I used to be pretty cynical about antidepressants like all they do is chip the corners of everyone thats aching and breaking from being a square peg hammered into a round hole. Chemical lube. But the past months I have sorted out a lot of things for me and wee man. The depression lifted I could move about easier, I could let the sunshine work with much less come down. As usual I wake early, briefly of course. I know from experience that leaping out of bed at first rousing is a mistake. By 9 I will be crumbling by ten folded. But good thinking happens if I've made sure Im comfy enough. But the bad dreams will continue if thats what the night has been about. All the notural stuff had been very positive recently, empowerment, managment until the other night. Snow, water, resort, repeatedly lost son, I kept expecting or needing my mother to keep and eye on him she was indiffer...

After leaving my son up the road the came down for an intoxicated weekend. Meet my mum outside matalan slighty worse the wear and me and my boy have been down here ever since. A week after arriving we had temporary accomadation and support, two weeks and we hve a morning nursery place in a new shiny school. Shame about the no spliff rule though after the letter from CICA. Goddam curropt pigs, it's too late for me to backdown but this might jeopordise my safty, I'm in the right place though. my god dont know if i will get used to this keyboard really can't be arsed getting it changed even if it doesn't have a cd drive i can put tunes on usb thingy. Weather has been so good, lots of long walks, healthy meals and quality time untill I got home today all chuffed cause I piked up my new baby and the sky was still blue. To another totally impersonal and insensitive letter from CICA. pizza for tea, very grumpy mummy means very grumpy boy, tears and tantrums all round....

I can't hurt to ask. It could work out just lovely, in fact it is going to work out lovely but if I can get back in there me and wee man would be well chuffed although I'm sure a polish lassie and her family are in there and if so, all the best stay there for as long as you need or longer. B is sleeping, I told him to take his time, precious cargo after all. Ordered Kate Rusby, tunes for a new beginning ..

I haven't known what to do with him today, at least it poured down for most of the day so I had a good excuse for letting him have a TV day. Shouldn't have packed.. need to go.. I don't b would let me down, but I don't think a particularly wants to see me I don't want to hang around here while my dad picks away at any improvements in my mental health, I worked bloody hard for those improvements. I'm sure, T told me it would be okay she'll be watching. I hope she's not alone I think I might need a few of them now. There's still a bit of my thinks its wrong to pray for comfort, for a little more independence or at least honest dependence. I know its bollox though, it will still hurt but it wont be the wall paper like it is here. I know that everyone who has ever loved me and quite a few that didn't hate the thought of me living here, with him and them. In a crime scene, with the echoes of tortured angels and all that mighty evil. How can ...

Rucksack full, files burned, supernoodles and new milk cup bought, blue folder not exactly organised but empty of waste paper, support numbers found, notebooks packed. I hope there isn't a change of heart or circumstances and the lift falls through. I will find that pretty tricky, haven't said anything to dad as he isn't easy to talk to at the best of times, the plan is to say I'm just going for a few days. Avoided any big goodbyes with the rest of family at C's party it's her day. She's got enough to deal with leavin the girls isn't easy, I talked about everyone else moving down to. No one had any issues except practicalities of finding a home. Isn't not the right place for folks like us, it makes you feel abnormal, a human stain instead a human being who hasn't been particularly lucky. Watched some of Depp's Alice again, I still think its brill, properly atmospheric, true to the darkness of the books, and the scottish mad hater fai...

a beautiful women, who is totally boobless like a skinny boy A lovely bloke but when I keep my eyes closed and its the maid that kisses me I'm confident to say I am curios again, not in lets get wasted and get it over with but in an oohhh touch me sort of way.. its lovely but also a bit intense and nauseating

The themes of this one will be music, my dad, healing, incest, storms, travel ... A cute bloke has emailed me but I can't afford the subscription.. He seems so much more physically attractive than the usual mooses that have been viewing me. Niece's bday today, which I'm glad of. Tonight I sort out the dreaded blue folder, comp letters, passport, housing, numbers of rape crisis, portable file storage.. There was thunder last night but slept well for the first time in ages without walking it off in the evening. I thought it would be easier just to stay here because it wasn't raining when I woke up and I wan't still tired. I've been drenching this bridge in petrol for as long as I can remember, if it wont burn the only other option is just to walk, and keep walking. Stick the wee man in his buggy and let him suck in the changes of scenery and then sing them back at me when he's sleepy or in the middle of the night deep in his dreams his eyes shout bu...

There day he threatened my mum with an ice cream scoop, it was in the morning I can't be arsed with family bullshit before 10 and pretty much blanked it. Ice cream for breakfast, its not anyone's birthday. Yesterday he came home from the pub pissed and pissed off, pretty normal Sunday. Sometimes hes cheery drunk for a little while anyway. He tried to open a cupboard the one with the remaining child lock with frustrated him so he snapped it of, saying something about there being no need for them. I wasn't feeling too tolerant, the pain had come on pretty quick and intense, so I snapped back saying dad was there any need for that? He got right in my face saying don't start with me. Me and mum agreed it was time to get real, again. Or maybe even for the first time. A pal phones latter about another pal who isn't coping too well with a relationship ending. He says hes picking us up Thurs. I'm pretty ready, NFA. Time to move on. I just hope someone can...

to wade through the notebooks and scavenge everything that burns and everything that sings. Its words, they are tiring not exhausting. Still though I stare at the screen and the potential like a tumbled down cottage, excellent location, beautiful garden but there is no roof, the electrics are dangerous and the access needs a lot of work..

Positive validation is lovely, I'd like much more please Saw a counsellor she is lovely and has referred me for psychotherapy I've been referred to gyny too It's all going to take lots of time Found a poetry competition with a deadline and a prize I can work for something to keep me going until OU starts again. My dad wants his dig money, wee man needs shoes, clothes and a better male role model I can't hand over my benefits so he can spend it in the bar every night he might put his drinking as a top priority, above family needs, family wants but I'm not. Growing up in shitty clothes, no leisure, taught fuck all social skills he'd grudge us a couple of quid for sanitary towels when he spend hundreds in the bar I'm not comfortable with wanting to come back, just for the full fridge but I need to even scores a little, its closure for me. No cash when angel was born or all through the pregnancy but he handed my working nephew a couple of grand...

Maybe I should spend longer on the appeal letter but it's not easy, my head goes blank. I feel so stupid writing anything, like a clipe, its stupid. Found "stop mind control and ritual abuse know" and have put it on my list of things I have to do. If anything I am bound to get a sympathetic ear hopefully and hopefully and opportunity to contribute to research. They might be able to help with the claim but if not it should at least be a bit of support. Dad not working today, one of them in the house is bad enough but both of them is a nightmare, he just reads and doesn't engage or help out, except to give wee man ice cream for breakfast when the fridge is full of fruit. I guess I should get up quicker but its like waking up under a pile of rubble, takes ages to negotiate my way out underneath all the crap before I can communicate or preform essential tasks like going for a pee or getting breakfast sorted. My mum just cleans, and uses the washing machine all d...

Right so the trans guy me and Virtual bought hash from, a mate of hers apparently. She said his old name, that he hang around here years ago, I think she also said he'd hurt a girl. Yea would that be me by any chance? It destroyed my mulitples, raping the one that always knew when to vacate. I thought he was kidding, he had slapped me. The sex had been lovely but hard for me to understand, people that young shouldn't have sex. Maybe he saw or heard about me and someone else. I remember him asking if it was because of him I cut. The other night when I remembered who he was and a little about how close we were and how fucked up everything was, I instantly felt like cutting. He has turned up in a few surprising places, I become un me. It felt like I had never really felt like a person until we talked, the way he would treat me, the sex. But the constant pressure for violence and hate, the latent on brutal misogyny that is everywhere when your and abused young man. Pow...

It will be you, me and a glass or two of wine. Our darling boy will be camping and we shall be up all might making art and sense.....

Stupid cow sayin I'm the one who needs good luck, got herself a cleaning job and thinks she ace. Glad it fell apart before it went on for to long she wasn't right for me, too negative, too selfish, too grumpy. It was nice to think I had someone for a while though even though I knew it was a fantasy. Back to realities of the compensation claim. Really feel like my chances all came to me when I was in no position to take them. They are what they are. In that wee town today, it didn't bother me at all. The vague horrible memories of being there before, didn't seem to matter any more. Then of course I came home and watched Eastenders 'if you have been affected by these issues, phone this number for some indifferent, badly researched advice that will make you wish the bastard had just finished you of..' Now, now, just because I want a baby, don't have a girlfriend, am well skint and puke up at the thought of working... boo hooo still got the best kid i...

Just a little bit more sunshine, just a little less rain, Just a little more money and heap less pain It's not much to ask for, a menstrual cycle that doesn't floor me and a bit more honesty and compassion xx

Novel 1 - more or less me and my fantastic oh my god I wish could imagine this tales. Too focus on poetry drives me mad, I need to dive into something hundreds of pages and thousands of words, something that takes on a proper life of its own instead becoming smaller, the simple statement I was born, I am hurt and I am not stupid or ugly. The magazine research can take a back seat, the poetry will grow out of the fiction, when trying to put linear narrative on a life of regression, flashbacks and disassociation. Its stronger than Italy, the connection with the red earth, the feeling of moving beyond dysfunction and negative mutual dependence not in terror but because its a better life, because my needs and my sons needs are the same. Because I love and its nurturing and respectful and not fearful and desperate. Got a letter from the Government Compensation people the other day, saying there was not enough evidence saying I reported incidents to the police enough or of sexual ...

Not doing much work but the grey cells are ticking away. Glasgow triology Brava - about how I love Spain, sexual confusion that becomes a desire to reproduce and be safe. Anti-depressants work - four aeroplanes 1 unconfident 8 year old, one mine diva, one almost three golden boy, a bampot of a sister, a my mother - no anxiety. Contraceptives work no bleeding no agony, no ovulation misery. Being a bit strict myself, wouldn't let myself take a double bed into my wee office/den/bedroom. I felt wrong in a double bed, like a girl in her mothers heels. Today I will move them! All the swimming, pushing buggies and suit cases up hills in the heat has deepened a need for regular physical activity. My shoulders look strong, my lower thighs look damn good, the steroids are helping the lungs a lot. Cece still hasn't married that fool, good lass but has put all she was left into her career. I don't have a career at the moment but I do have a history and a reoccurring lust fo...

There was Luis a waiter with a Spanish name and a strong Irish accent. A way of saying 'alright' that makes me feel 9. It broke my heart on the last night when I left to go back to my caravan with my grumpy sister and not sneak of into the warmth of Costa Brave camp site night with his chiselled butt. I couldn't sleep at all, my mum gave me the pull out bed in living room myself, the sofa cousins and pillows were piled up and eased the coughing. The Scottish hormone related sweets some how cured by nights as hot as the best of our days. I was perfectly comfortable, except for the lust that moved around my body, healing and waking. He would of known, they usually do. My dreams wrapping around their senses at opportune and inappropriate moments alike. There was the cook. He worked like a machine, a race horse with hands that sprinted for days. Dark eyes, slight smile lines that went deep and permanent when Spain went one up over Germany. Late one evening I turned ...

There is only one real way for me to treat me. Chocolate, crisps, cake don't fit I hate being chubby and feeling heavy this makes me sing and walk and see As for cunt or cock, the grass is always much greener. She holds and pushes but never shoves. Oh to be in love with something that has a pulse. It has life when its growing, hands and needs. It responds too, warping wiry roots around me dreams and my consciousness. I see where I am and the almost infinite places I could be going to. Free to stand back, breeze in, stretch out my sides and choose. Novel!!!!!!!! Its going to take about a year!!.. If im lucky. I think fiction I write me in third person, I think me I write about WWII partisans. Its about the writing not the story, I can do that, they grow and I know how to grow them. I don't want to start without something historical, it can simmer in that back ground but I don't want it to take over my whole brain. Novel - let Gibbons twist up inside...

I dont like this whole creative developed intertwined with physical illness shit. But my shrink loved it and he was right about a lot of things. My mom shrink didn't, she would of seen it as representing constant struggle, psychological, spiritual, intellectual, physical struggle that has a heavy price, phenomenal wear and tear. The historical can wait, the only history I want to fictionalise is my own. I will enjoy so much of it but it will take on a momentum and I don't always know when to stop. For so long I didn't think I could be involved with anything for very long, I had to get everything I could out of anything. I never had time to learn how to take my time, its the same with Virtual. Viva Espania! Presto! Not so scared now, I almost have a bikini body, not a skinny one like fuck that, or rather eh why would you a bag of spanners would be a better bed mate. Can't afford the bikini but that is not the fucking point. Stomach muscles seem to come and go...

It's maybe the cold Not feelin too good this morning, school dreams.. Usual, lost, wrong bus, wrong clothes, not paying enough attention, everything like walking in sand. I think I volunteer for something, then unvolunteered because everyone else was going home. Fife today I believe, not that I can be arsed. Its probably just the cold, I applied for a good last night, archivist job share. Don't think I've ever read a job description I've liked so much. I could do that! Probably could of guarteened myself an interview through New Deal and haven't though. Not trying that hard! I don't like these kinds of early morning depressed feelings, life on the couch watchin USA tv under a blanket is one thing but waking up feeling like something awful and life changing happened the day before when all I did yesterday was watch England get beat by Germany,read Mansfield and job hunted. At least I could work through the tooth ache, this just feels like a wasteland...

I watched England get beat by Germany 4-1 with my dad, I finally feel able to move on.. Strange and fascinating thing football from the post colonial perspective. I'm never sure how I feel about USA, I can't help being roused by the national anthem but equally disgusted by sonority boys. Virtual is becoming virtual again, she had a night out in Glasgow and txted to say she would rather be in Aberdeen..

The novel Called 'Novel' at the moment. Just to shameless exploit my own and other peoples experiences and personality for the amusement of my self and others, for possible financial gain - as a career.. There's is nothing else for me, I can't work in police forensic I would need science qualifications and an ability to leave to house for longish periods on a regular basis. I can't go back to music or films. Forward to it maybe but through poetry, words, art, there is no other way. War music.

She finds it difficult to accept I'm bi, its understandable so do I. Bisexuals are the gays of the gays. She denied it's existence, looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't what I said I was. 'your a lesbian', and she's right anyway inregards to women of Eastern origins. When it comes to Joe Cole, Torres, and few other tight curvy footballing specimens, I'm a quite hetro.. It hurts though when you say your something and hear it denied like that, she's a bit of a home girl. No definite plans to get the fuck out, constant minor family dramas going on. I applied for a job the other day, full time and permanent, not that I made much effort on the application. Thinking more about going back to GP with that life and opportunity defining word 'diagnoses'. Wee man away camping. I'm not, two scary sisters, 1 mildly neurotic mother, 2 mini divas, a teething baby, a whinny ignorant brother in law, lots of drink and junk food, two dogs, tw...

Its taken 301 txt messages, a box of stawberries I never ate and bubble bath I might never see again but I have gotten what I want out of her, plans to go to a restaurant sometime in the nxt few weeks, provisional plans to see live music and of course the :) xx - thats not high maintenance at all!! My mate sent a message about a Kawasaki that was high maintenance but an excellent ride, it amused me.. I must of seemed pretty cold, changing way faster than any Scottish weather, I tried to keep it cool and mild but she's got the user self centred thing going on sometimes. Not planning our date properly, the loud way she speaks sometimes, its not something that gets me hot and bothered. Just bitter and miserable. Got my own self sabotage to deal with to, like buying all that crap when I'd only met her once. Not being more honest when she told me. Flirting like fuck on pinksofa though, its summer, Im behaving like a young happy person, except for the poems about ritualised ...

Mum had to get me up to take wee man to nursery.. Smoked up pretty much all my hash, not writing much mostly just feeling like a bam. I mean, posh bubble bath, strawberry's, Carol Ann Duffy lesbian love poems, to a regular class A user, HELLLOO. Never mind, I've invited her out later if it stays nice. I do want to see her but aint having no gfd that chooses that filth over my sweet self. I don't think so. Maybe that's what the shit dreams were about, not aiming high enough, not sorting out all the crap I have lying around. Cheap badly fitting clothes that should just be put in the bin. Anyhoo, first draft 'Sanctity', I've been peeing about with it long enough, treat it as serious arty poem about the spiritual reality that exists in every human and maybe in every social interaction.

hang on a second I buy flowers, smelly candals, wine, hash, shave my legs for friking ages and she needs money for lecky, hasdn't cleaned up his flat and spends the sticky money on H. Not amused, more than slightly frustrated.. I am a muppet of course. 3 months out buying flowers and naming kids ffs. Doh The longest day. I hope we friends for a very long time but I'm not having my pleasure being such a low priority with my consent, bollox to that. I did well, very well. She bottled more or less, like her effort was all about her; I don't really like that, I know I'm a bit selfish, it take me a while. She is shy too. Someone has to worship me before I give anything back. I'm not totally comfortable with it but its worked really well with some people. Probably when a real partnership wasn't an option. The joys!.. xx

No sticky black either, apparently she has another favourite poison, and can't same I'm not disappointed because its not the same as mine. She gets awful bloody stupid road rage, and strops over arguments with her mother. She also has some well nice tattos, a tiger across her back amongst others. I would be lying if I said I never thought about sex with a bloke, a good bloke. She wasn't nearly as forward as I thought she would be, but the first time with anyone is usually slightly frustrating for both. And I don't think that shits too good for the sex drive, damn it. She kept asking me if I was sore, when I was far from feeling any pain, that always breaks the moment and makes me wish I hadn't said anything. I've no intentions of going down on her until she at leasts sorts that flat out, it worse than mine when I was my own.. and that is well bad. But she had her moments, beautifully tender, which just made me want more. I know I will always have grass...

Got smelly candels (vanilla, no choice in tesco), got Belgian chocolate moose, got rose bubble bath (no hanky panky in bath though I get thrush), got £9 (reduced to £7) French red wine, got tulips in assorted rainbow colours (her favourite), got micro Italian food, she's supplying sticky, stinky black and love sweeties, on pill, don't need condoms cause shes a girl, weather is shit, England couldn't beat Algeria... its looking pretty cute.. Bet she she slaps me or something, or wants to make hard core... Aha transportation issues, easily resolved with a bit of patience.. xxxxxxxx

  I have tan lines to work on.

Oh my.. Im getting all hot and bothered.. Can't wait for the weekend, I don't think it's just the good canabinoids, I think I might give it a go. She has beautiful crystals quartz, she is as messy as I am. It's hot outside and the solstice approaches....

I think the GP helped she has a way of smiling at me that makes me agree to things that sound preposerous when other people say it. The pill - okay. Not something I have been able to say for a long time. But the ouchies have been tettering into intorable on and off for a very long time now. So does the mood swings and the hormones, I can't function without star flower oil. GLA apparently. Not sure how that will work with the pill, I was okay on it before, I hated being ok on it.. Its all very different now. The tramp only asked for a shag though. I was a bit taken aback what with my son standing 6 foot away and my parents both moving around downstairs. There was hugging though. I can't eat anything... Sister problem though, it can hangover everyone like a dark cloud. It's one thing when there is dark clouds over everyone else but when there isn't its heart breaking,

All Hail Txts! Its unlikely I could of said it face to face, 'organisms hurt'. Two words, and no I can't say 'cum', teenage boys, prostitute clients and slappers cum. I organism! And it hurts, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. I haven't mentioned it to many doctors, far too embarrassed and of course when I have its usually meet with great indifference, but I'm going to give it another go tomorrow. The periods pains have been ridiculous the past few months and the pains there in-between as well and generally makes me tired and want to cry. She seems quite physical, generally up for it and I am a little scared. Have made plans to stay over at the weekend though, no promises. She asked what sort of flowers and chocolates I like.. Generally when a bloke asks that the alarm start ringing 'player alert', she does txt a little too much about being true and not wanting to mess about. It's a bit early in the day for me for that sort of ta...

I thought I was reasonably fit, but walked a couple of miles today and feel like I've done a triathlon. The poems are resting, I've done some good work, nothing wrong with letting things steep for a while. I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed at how many magazines, and possible opportunities there is for publication. Would like to start a novel soon, but novels need more time, a much bigger commitment. Quite chuffed with what 'cauld tattie' has become, and 'ritualised empiricism'. I think I'm a bit on hold until I get grade from final assignment. Thinking about philosophy, 2nd year doubt I'd ever volunteer for 3rd, but you never know. The summer school too.. Yea I like that, hopefully I wont be flued up like last time. I'm bound to be more confident... but now I need rest.. what a light weight. I'm not married, he's a paedophile, let it go. Soon I will write bravely, without the bar, can't write that, that can't be re...

Maybe even better. She drove over, her daughter crashed out in the back. We were playing Mario Galaxy 2, I got sick of being nervous and knew that Mario games that arn't platforms can distract from almost evening problem that isn't leathal and a couple that are. We went to the park then for a walk, the kids were great. She really was quite cute but very nervous and talked too much and tried to sound hard. I pouted and rolled my eyes.. perfection is over rated anyway, but it was lovely.. hmm. Yea, Watched all of 3 seconds of the football, my parents have it on down stairs. Stoneroses in the bath much, much much better. She's really cute though, she phoned last night, slight wasted and I couldn't make out a word but kept flirting in that sarcastic way I do when I mean it. It's definitely ok. Craig Charles doing his funk and sole football themed thing. I will not be amused if the cut 6 music, not one little bit, it can be shit in the evenings, and weekend mornin...

There was heaps of, big giants poops. One of them was hung on the washing line. I looked in the toilet and one of them had a note, something about it being my remains of Christmas, all offical like. I think it was a rich house, rich but messy. It's probably a good thing dreaming about shit. Showing things are being purged (and then hung on a washing line?) its maybe to do with poems. I sent an email that said I fancied her and I'm not so sure, well how could predict that? Im meeting her on saturday though, and getting the bus home early. Day dreams and memories at the moment make sex seem preposterous again. The work is good though.

The prison officer I met on my big lesbian night out has been in touch, we are know fb friends. Felt guilty about speaking to other girls on pink sofa though, then again all that old fashioned values, looking to settle down stuff is a bit heavy, really fancy her though!

I think I might have over worked the piece for magma, she only raised a couple of points and I reworked the whole thing. If she liked it before, chances are most of it is more of the same. Put in my own scars, which has to be good, messed about with line then messed about putting it back, ahh the joys. No money for any of it though, and pretty difficult to job hunt when I could be exploring the extreme images of my youth and reading 20th century greats. Thinking quite seriously about starting philosophy in February. If I'm well aquittal with the txts and have a good idea of the theory, that I usually get excited enough about to pass easy enough. ohh theoretical gender, post colonial studies ohh. I really want some philosophy, and think another summer school wouldn't do any harm. If they are prepared to pay for it and I am keen then go for it, while the iron is hot. I need lots and lots of experiences in my head that arn't done it the shadow of an upside down cross. ...

I rather the hot sunshine..

Oh my, It is looking pretty definite I am going to have actual poems actualy printed. I also seem to be getting a virtual girlfriend. It has been mostly warm for three days. A Contract from Womenwords Publishing in the post, 'River' is to be published under 'Women Loving' and 'Police' under 'Women Laughing' in Sunrise over Manchu Picchu . I know some people arnt too impressed by all the - send a fiver and a poem and we will publish it stuff, but at this stage its great. That is what you have to do with poetry just get it published, get it out there. I made a date, then cancelled it and put three x's at the end of the email. I am quite excited by this girl. I dreamt last night that I met her before. She lives in an area where I used to live. I'm sure we kissed next to the river and I came to terms with being femm I believed in marriage. She says shes not a player.. neither am I. 'Transcending' is now 'Ascending'.. less abstr...

I like that, I like that a lot. I hope she likes the changes, I wonder what it will be like to see it printed.. Phoned the lettings, 'Do you have your own bedroom?' 'Does your son have his own bedroom?' 'You have 10 points you need at least 25.' But I've seen babies killed in this house some of them might of been mine my dad drinks to much my mum moans about him drinking too much my sisters tried to kill me and one of them burst my eardrum when I said I was gay I only came back because I broke the system and couldn't move on because I'm the sort of silly tart that has to make sense find closure and know I have I don't hate them anymore its not like they weren't hurt either but the upstairs bathroom is disgusting and I wont clean it cause its my dads mess and there not my parents anyway but they are the closest I have at the moment because my good girl money got mixed with the dirty stuff and I wont touch any of it not that I can remember wher...

Whenever I think I'm beyond a certain dream it returns as if I've done nothing since it started. London/Glasgow a big city, that will be the world I want to be part of, myself. I lost my phone and my luggage and missed the train home because I forgot to check the time it was leaving. Lost of people comfortable and competent and me staring at cakes in windows, not sure if I can afford them, not sure I'm allowed them. Grim. There's been shopping dreams recently I think, when I'm tripping around with an entourage, serious and focused but ultimately alone. Sitting a tables while people buy and sell my time, my flesh, my brain. It's not something I forgive easy.

erbacce can crawl up their own four letter words. Taking themselves a bit too seriously there. Poetry in the electronic age is as awkward and as beautiful as the work it's self. Nothing can be gained by being snobby about the difficulties caused by communicating across different levels of literacy and access to technology. All the work I saw didn't go much further than exploring the meaning of the word 'fuck', valid, but you need more; anyone who has been slapped more than once can do that. Especially if you can't be arsed pressing the Fwd button; twats.

It's back, pre premenstrual ouchies. Like my womb is trying to get rid of it's self. A burning tightness, that spreads to my thighs, heart and boobs making me slow, tearful and irritable. Bless you pinksofa though, it's brought heaps of smiles recently. Still feel a bit of a fraud though, cause I looked up a bloke on bebo yesterday, first glance and I was all chuffed, not interested. But now I keep seeing his face, and remembering that electric touch. I am a confirmed fag hag. I always need to have someone I'm thinking about all the time, it's a survival thing. I might never get over it but that's okay there are worse things and people to obsess over. I wonder it's connected to the pain, H would of thought so. He also believed me and psychosomatic pain were a little too intimate and I couldn't disagree. Might get some help from dreams if I could be arsed remembering them. There was something about someone looking for the corkscrew, 'magic w...

It was a nice enough evening but too cold to stand about so I went for a walk, thinking the exercise might help me sleep better. On the way home I passed the local and went in, why not? Might as well replace the calories burned of by walking. There was to my surprise a vaguely interesting man in talking about watching the dolphins in the bay. He was quite drunk and wanted to exchange numbers, which is fair enough. Grabbing me outside for a kiss however, wasn't. I am not any less confused, the whole sex, dating, attraction shit completely mystifies me. I look at youngish blokes a lot, they often look strangely familiar but when they start making moves, I like the validation but also feel uneasy, like he's got me confused with someone very, very different. I txted him this morning to say thanks for the Guinness and to give me phone if he's around. If he phones back I will lay it on the line. I am very confused at the moment so keep your hands to yourself. The bar ...

I was quite drunk, walking down steps in heels carrying a bag with my overnight stuff. Some of the women were standing smoking and talking at the bottom of the steps. It was sunny. One of them noticed my condition and offered her hand. 'Thank you.' 'Your very welcome.' 'Good night.' 'Good night.' I think I heard one of them say she couldn't believe I'd gone home without getting off with anyone. I think the one who offered her said she thought that was probably why I was leaving. I saw her watching as shook hands and hugged goodbye with others inside. I really was quite, quite drunk. There was a warmth, a closeness, a strength. Whatever I am, I love butch women. Mum didn't seem to happy when I asked if my sister had any plans to deal with her drinking. She can't go on like that forever. I just keep thinking of the wee ones, looking at there mum in that state. The glazed eyes, to total lack of awareness of whats going on around her...

91% I was hoping for 92% bastards.. The 1 is looking a bit tricky but I am well proud, I've read the feedback twice but still struggle to focus. It takes a lot out of me but its stuff that I can't use for anything else and just gets in the way. Keep going, enter the competitions. A social life would be lovely but I'm not going to get 91% if graded on that.. It's the commentary that's being a bitch, it always is. I will have to include references to new feedback in it. but first I have to sober up and figure out what the fuck he is going on about. Hail sunshine! Hail words! x

The temperature has doubled, the air is like fresh soup and everything rust coloured is jade. Last night there was storms, close thunder shaking everything to its core. Rain battering down like a power shower. Today is supposed to be hot, working on my tan is top priority. My sisters family stayed last night. She's hitting the grog a bit too much again. The rest of the family did the rational thing and got drunk. I sat sipping Rose, spliffing up and muttering about 'support' 'get information'. Then went in the shower, brushed my teeth for ten minutes, read up on grammar and went to sleep. It all started a bit early today though, everyone small or female out of bed my 7am. I held on but when the tub of chocolate sprinkles was added to my relatively clean bedding I had to give in and get up. It's looking lovely outside, I love a good May, snow, hail, sunburn, ripe fragrant air, proper thunder. Still no result yet ffs. Final assignment is coming a long ...

Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, trust yourself and drink, and the drink some more. Until it all starts to look very clear.. Did I mention 'daffodil rites'? It's cool either way. Being in that state in a regularly biases however, publicly or otherwise is not a good idea.. Thank feck I am so hangover intolerant. Even if I am aware of looking at men and thinking 'mmm' more than women. Especially gay ones, the outer the better. Trans is the future. It's official. I've added it too the dictionary. Hasn't helped with the housework though.

typical first night 'out' ever and I'm aching and bleeding. Of course, I don't believe in a mind body split, thats the tool of universal oppression that is. fuck Pain and spliffs (more please) are not too bad for writing, maybe should add that too commentary. The difficulty focusing removed by pain (and painkillers). It is relevant to the quote 'happiness writes white' and my argument against on the grounds that is the wet suicidal victimised Romanticism. Another poem? Flapjacks - the footballer equivalent of 'police'. fuck, fuck. Can't eat, can't take ibuprofen. It's agony waiting for the grade for the last one, can't even remember what it's called now? What was it about again, oh aye, mountains and crosses. Yep, feedback please.. NOW.. help..

War poem is now 'Apologies to the unregistered dead.' and is flowing not too bad. Inroads into the commentary, but a long way to go if I want a grade above the high eighties. More references to the poem, my notebook and other poems. The thought of moving isn't scary any more, the light it's not a freight train. At worst it's someone on a bicycle and another tunnel.

Looking at research degrees at OU. Not quite ready for that but it is an option. I don't think the best way to challenge the denial of ritual abuse is necessarily for me to use the same methodologies that deny it. Although it needs to be done, and is very possible. It wouldn't be much fun. Maybe something to work towards. The Ma in literature though, I think I could do that. Registered for 20th C. texts and debates, after years of putting it off. Printing of competition deadlines and using like TMA deadlines is a good idea, so is using facebook and LGBT stuff to get myself out there. As cringing as that is to say. I have been told officially by a health visitor that people don't have kids taken away from them for having too many jammie days and messy bedrooms. The final assignment is hanging heavy, floating but very very heavy. It would be an awful lot to get my rather telling and not showing voice recognition. Like that, as long as there is some details it doesn...

Travelling with family is great isn't it? As many generations as possible in the smallest spaces possible, nothing better. Back now though after travelling to and fro though the next place I'm going to live, and the hotel rooms were actually pretty big with teeny tiny balconies you could smoke from if you closed the curtains behind you. First poetry competition, first short list. Encouraging.

Will number 5 is out of my hands. My God it feels good. Now War poem takes over after I've let it simmer while I and see the olds. Slight paranoia that the dream about the car seats is a premonition of a car crash. It had that feel about it. I didn't like seeing them in the garage without their covers. ANYHOW... I'm quite chuffed. the commas, full stops and shit arn't sorted but I made good efforts and the report is ok and its 9 am. Beautiful. The journals are ace I was put of before because I thought the would be beyond me but I think I'll fit right in.

Mum didn't look to pleased when I said I wanted to post the next assignment before we leave for my grans tomorrow but I don't care. I need this, wee man needs this, she needs it to she just can't admit it. I can't do what she did to make family into a complete life instead of just an element because things got rough. She was always so much better at busying her self to avoid telling with stuff. I'm not able to do it, I need it written up and dissected. The longer one needs to wait, I have to focus on 'Transcendence' the name for the work that began as big wooden cross.

Poems Nobody likes me Everybody hates me I think I'll go and write poems Long fat scary wanes Wee short cheeky wanes See how they wriggle and turn. If your sick to the back teeth have them extracted, my the time you are over it you wont be sick of anything for a while. I am not gay I am trans beyond, moving above the black and white of other peoples's gender. Seeing things as they are not as we wish them. 'My name is Daffodil I am a lesbian and it's has been bloody ages..' Get beyond resonance. xx

The usual bumpy start and its always scary to but now things look interesting.... First poetry journal arrived with a free packet of sunflower seats. I found them waiting for me after I walked home in the occasionally warm sunshine. Darling fell asleep on the bus in his new funky buggy, although it wasn't very funky at all when it tipped on a corner. He was not pleased for about 2 minutes then nodded of. Met a non relative type person for lunch its all kind of civilised. Committed to night out to which is good, very good and quite scary. I wish I had started subscribing to the journals years ago they are excellent. There's letters discussing show don't tell and a wee ditty I could use as the epitaph to the story of my life. Competition details to. Its spring and young,beautiful and almost healthy. x Hung parliament, well well. Interesting politicians forced to barter in public like the ageing abused prostitutes that they are..

Last night I felt pretty stupid, thinking I'm not a lesbian or a poet and rebuilding past relationships is pathetic and Stockholmish. This morning, when the wee man eventually shouted me out of bed then pulled me out again after I'd crawled back in, I am feeling better. I didn't destroy the poems, or slash my arms, I didn't rake around in the bin to make a roach spliff, which makes me glad especially since the bin is full of banana skins and sanitary towels. What I did do was check out women on pinksofa updated my profile and considered who I should vote for today. I guess it has to bed lib dem although I'm not comfortable with Clegg, I actually prefer Cameron, in a way. I may be older and maturer but voting Conservative would involve me splitting the taped together remnants of my personality... Not going to happen. It's all bollox anyway we don't vote in the civil servants, the business leaders or the press who really run things. It's like cho...