Showing posts from July, 2010


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. Powerf…

soon my pretty..

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 in the …

Scottish summer misery.

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

Write grrl, right!

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 abuse…

Morning Time..

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 for her…


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.


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 me till I puke…