..dear reader..

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...

I wish I had more faith, the sort of belief in myself in others and justice I used to have. It makes for much better dignity, instead constantly of pacing around, needy, listless and unmotivated. Two years ago last new year was the last time we talked, I think he said he wanted to finish something, make it for me. Which sounds a bit like a goodbye but he wouldn't admit it, committing isn't the problem. It's uncommitting, I know it's not right to put all your faith into one person but its not easy to undo once done. I will have other relationships, with strong beautiful women he will not haunt every time I kiss someone or wake up in a bed with someone else in it. She will not have to walk away because I'm too involved with someone from the past.. Maybe we can just be friends. There is art without, there is voice and song, it will be different and not as lucrative or so widely received but it will be enough.

There's a fair amount of resources for lesbian moms out there, although the internet has brought a fair amount of hell from far and wide and almost be the death of me on numerous occasions, I have to admit it is a positive thing these days. Slept much better the face ache was not the first thing I was aware of today. Probably because my mum is back and mentioned the salt gargles should only involve a pinch of salt and not half a cup. No wonder my gums are splitting and receding, none of that infection agony though. Still feel pretty shaken up just want to hide and write, the end of course assessment is not due in distant August but at the start of June and has to be posted so basically the end of May. That's May, this month. Right.. Glorious poetic prose, it's about me not the grade. The lines of the poems are stretching anyway I know it's different but also easier. More words less distillation, The birth of Daffodil, first chapter beginnings or some less cliché...

It's to do with adrenalin I think, when you can't sleep and feel tearful, shacky and generally a bit rough. I have barely left the house since the extraction. Little man is doing well but can't expect him to keep it up. It's not really fair on the grandparents but can hear the health visitors telling me not to worry he's fine, he's feed, he's happy and sometimes he is clean too. In the mean time I am getting better, working for the future and growing with him. The place that makes much sense at the moment is here or my bed but the poems are going good. 'War poem' has become 'war' and is hovering near the line limit and making increasing grammatical sense. The report is well considered of not properly drafted and there is the start of a competition entry, 5 pages, weaving it all, chucking it all in a big pot, and giving it a big stir with a very big spoon. Watching things sink and bubble up. Time......

Another shitty night (what do I expect, no exercise I know the score). Just read a thing in the Independent about plans to make professional football less homophobic with that Clifford bloke saying he has takin steps to make sure three footballer are never exposed as the big poofs that they are (arn't all footballers poofs that's the point?). Care to elaborate mr creepy publicist dude? Is he an example of the prejudice or the effect it has on people? I'm sure there ate lots of words could some it all up but my favorite would be 'yuck' But I feel like that about most things.. Today though, hash has ran out and I have to cook a duck and peel tatties, go in the shower and do a bit more parenting. Not lurk in my room wailing and gnashing sore jaws. xxx

I think I've left at least three cups in every room in the house. Wee man still in his jammies but his buts dry and his tummie is full and only likely to get fuller what with grandad being down their putting away the weakly shop. I asked him about seeing the my sisters dog whiles sees away his response was 'tuff', bless his heart he is such a family orientated man. Its impossible to not feel guilty about leaving mini me to his own devises. I worry that he is learning that a good boy is quiet and doesn't bother his mum but parenting is not about perfection its about knowing where you could do better and working towards it. You have to enjoy it or it just wont work. May Day though.. May day is for ripping little square of cardboard of next weeks doctor appointment card, for pain killers, tears and sweet tea or beer if its an option for breakfast. For letting the babies be, chocolate covered and disneyfied in front of the tv or building forts in rooms they are not allo...

I'm just not good with physical trumua, pain and illness. It all makes me a bit green and fainty. It's what happened some people embrace the yoke and start having a relationship with it, I wanted to avoid that as much as possible, I began where it ended. There was no other way to be for me to be. The self harm never became a habit it was lashing out not an addiction. Like drugs and sex they were short terms necessities not long term life style choices. I walked away, I burned bridges I obliterated rare precious memories to keep a space no matter how small between me and the machine. Now it means that I go into shock after dental extractions and period pains almost make me puke. Flu I cannot mention.. War poem? It is developing quite lovely, physical detail gets added in as I strip the early drafts back to the intentions, sweet. Terra nuillus/dark enery. xxxx