jensentm

 I am going to make whoever reads my blogs cry with the level of pain i've had to suffer over the last few days.

I will pick up where i left off - but first i must sleep

know that i put lots of new photos on myspace - god i'm sad

know also that i am still writing a fucking epic of a novel and that i am in need of love to keep it going

but not 'love' love - that's just silly


xxxxxxx love, Jensen xxxxxx

i've got a massive massive issue and i'm going to write it up...

the long and short of it is that i'm a massive twat and don't deserve to be here... and i don't mean just livejournal 

.

 

There is not much of me that does not speak contrarily of itself. Perhaps like any person living, or to have lived, I am a child of multifarious material. Sharing more facets of myself with chaos than with any harmony of stillness.

But then, what does not move - when even atoms shiver?

Learning this about myself isn’t so much revelation, as much as revision. A lesson re-learned and then forgotten.

With Fritz, all things speak volumes. He can read nonsense and crack it like the Rosetta Stone. Great IS knows where he gets his comparative reference from, but it happens and it helps that I can read him. If angel’s speak into his ears, then I hear the chinese whisper of it. A crude little fragment of truth.

‘The Tapestry of The Universe’ was his little brush against genius. In writing it, he evolved slightly. Not away from himself, to any degree of incremental perfection - but instead he seemed to fold away certain sharpened corners. He wasn’t so gruff and odiously obstinate. Instead he seemed to soften - not to be impressed upon - but to become a more comfortable influence. Downing himself with a saintly tenderness. From time to time he even asked if we were feeling well.

To tell you of this might mistakenly lead you to believe that he was reformed, not merely transformed. Don’t confuse refinement with redemption.

So Fritz and I have taken to our nests of late. Not too much adventuring for us. Or, if we have thrown on our coats, it has been accomplished separately. He’s been scribbling his first draft non-stop. Sending me snippets of it, to rub salt into the gaping wound of my envy. Not even the thread of my own prose can neatly knit such a formidable laceration.

Still, I keep myself busy. At least I have my poetry to sate my ego. 


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 Well then, you finally coax out of her that she is seeing someone else. Andy. The feeling is sickening, but very relieving as you realize that he hasn’t got a stitch on you and your abilities and passions.

 

Its a funny thing to be replaced, it hurts like a bitch because (though you protest) you still love her in that dumb way you always have.

 

I’m glad its him really - I would have hated it to be someone with more talent, or someone interesting.

 

I can get on with getting over now.



p.s. The whole thing didn't stop me being sick though.

 

After the failure of the Cornhill Migration, The Marmite Croupiers played round a middle-road campfire until the darkness blurred roof with the sky and roving brought everything to the same distant blue. Their beaks and jaws chattered lyrical madness and their feathers and fur were an animated-constant; while pitch seemed to close in around them, stillness moving nearer, to a claustrophobic intensity.

I went to Birkenhead yesterday to do some shopping. I had a nice time, right up until a crushing wave of depression struck me.

Before we get to that…

Yesterday I was looking pretty cute. I had on my red and white checked-shirt and navy jeans - very 90’s. I had Toad The Wet Sprocket, Buckcherry, Joey John and Sublime on full volume! Life was wonderful.

With the intention of purchasing a book for my latest long-distant love interest I made my way like the steps ahead had been swept for me. Then got to the bookshop and they didn’t bloody have it!

I’d intended on so much and fallen so far short of it. So I got pissed off and went and bought a book I would have sent her in a few weeks anyway, but didn’t want to send first. Then I went off to HMV and found two books for myself.

Don’t you just hate the fact that HMV with a book section that comprises of exactly two racks has more to offer you than the entire stock at Waterstones!?!

Returning to the Waterstones after I’d calmed myself down, I continued looking for books. I asked the girl to look up Lord Byron - anything by him - and she asked who he was! MY GOD! Then she had the idea of flirting with me! ‘How dare she!’ I thought. So I was polite - I told her who he was. Bit my tongue when she asked if I ‘went to uni, or summit’. Just admitted that I had an interest in his letters and poetry.

So that was girl one!

Girl two was Cafe girl - there was a reoccurring theme of dyed red hair going on - she thought it strange that I ordered a black coffee and didn’t want milk with it. Another example of why I don’t enjoy this area - the women have the capacity for understanding removed at birth!

Sitting in that cafe - I wrote two poems - then depression overtook me and it was all I could do to hold back tears. After an hour just sitting there I wandered off outside and had no idea where I was off to. I just walked up and down the streets.

I went off and got the train home.

Don’t you love the girls in shampoo and perfume adverts - god even the laundry detergent women are looking hotter these days!

I felt awful that night - but kept writing my letters.

It’s a constant surprise how quickly life can grasp hold of you and change your view.

Lying awake all those recent nights (before getting pills to help me sleep) saw me over-think all manner of unrelenting worries. What am I, that cannot hold on to love? What am I, that I think what I had was love at all?

What I had was a relationship of constant upheaval and heartache. Riding in a lifeboat, subject to her distemperate mood-swings and her removal of love at will. What is loving about not knowing if you will be loved come the evening?

I am fully aware that I'm too quick to love.

Some forms of admiration are beguiling. That is certainly how I feel about her now, that she was a siren that lead me to an unbalanced level of self-destructive thought and dizzying mania. Her talent for manipulation of my heart was ever-present. Her talents in music and art, leading me to the blind infatuation that held without question. My heart has always been a creature that seeks out the tap-root of experience and influence.

It’s not that I didn’t ‘love’ her, but what I knew of love was so young.

As you can tell, I’m writing a lot more - I become a lot more insightful when I have had time to reflect and have begun again to transfuse inspiration from the world again.

I have spoken to a great many people in my life, but one at the moment has caught my attention. I can only hope that I meet her soon and prove that the extent of my admiration isn’t misplaced.

There is something about her voice that makes me weak, but subjective enough to understand the need for surrender.
Torn from a Welsh Temptress, I am cast into the arms of an American Minx.

Laura is now The Smile Reverser, as I always knew that she would be (and always was, as I found writing that character a lot easier after Laura had upset my spirit).

Long live new love.

You know that feeling you get before you go swimming? Well, ok maybe not everyone gets it - I’m not sure, I’ve never asked - maybe its just me. Its like this nausea that comes over you, nerves I think.
Well I have that feeling.
Its something I’d kick out of me, had I a choice! Its strange because its for no particular reason, I’m just feeling strange again. Felt like this all day, so I’ve been distracting myself with research and writing. I’ve written a few new poems to post, but I’m a little stuck.

On to the next exciting revelation. (*Yawn*)

I’ve got a little fascination with Dawn Porter. I’ll not pretend its not love. I seem to fall in love with TV personalities quite frequently. It never really goes away, just sort of lingers like first love forever. - She has just released a podcast, which is really funny!

Another podcast I love is Stephen Fry’s - his podgrams - they are wicked, he is such a witty person. I’d be a lucky man to grow up and be as smart as him! I’m on my way there, my love of general knowledge is damn near obsessive.

Next - I’ve found the chat room on bipolarchat.co.uk, I got to it through mdf.org.uk, and its been great meeting new people that feel a little like I do - I think even if there is something else wrong with me and that I have some other mood disorder, at least I’ve met some people who have made me feel really good today. I’m relearning my addiction to web forums and blogs!

That is all.

I’m quite a strange chap - maybe I shouldn’t admit that right off the bat. Having only been here for a short time though I have to imagine that no one is reading.

I have this thing where I need a certain level of attention. It is so bad that I’m on all these dating sites. I’m not after a relationship, just people to talk to. Sad isn’t it. I’m not going to begin to pretend that it would be really great to get someone to grab hold of - I’m quite a physical person. However, I know that isn’t any real element that influences my discussions with them. The general rotation is that a girl will email me, mention some small atom of my unique nature and then BAM! I’m struck, in a desperate loop of trying to maintain a contact so as not to be alone again. Two or three weeks of emailing back and forth and then the eventual meeting. I have this strange self-delusion going on where I think that they don’t like me, and that they are just being friendly.

I’m a horrible tease! They end up asking me straight if I like them and I always have the same look of horror on my face - shock even! Lol

Once or twice before now I’ve been too caught in the moment to say no. Which is awful! I know it is, but like I said - I’m a very physical person and we all make mistakes.

Just like this meeting with the girl I have not seen in 3 years (the girl ‘L’, who I have known since I was 6 years old). We were going for lunch, it was yesterday. We didn’t have lunch. We didn’t kiss or anything like that - but the girl damn near destroyed the place with her nervousness around me. Talking candidly, she tells me her entire life story and I just think ‘wow, this girl likes me’.

I’m just a walking head! In the egotistical sense. I have an inability to say no to emotional connections, because I fear the loss of them.

I love people too much. I’d love to have a friend though, just someone to talk to on a level and not have to worry about attraction.

Its nuts that I find that hard and relationships too easy to get into. Bit of a mirrored life.

So I’ve been having a hard few days. I’ve been charting my moods etc. There is a certain bumpiness to my moods.

I find myself really anxious and panicky - just sitting in the house and watching hours roll by without being able to focus on things.

I’m not sad, I get these little moments of sadness, but instead I seem on the cusp of going up. Only that is something I am very, very scared of. I know that I can get really silly sometimes and its moments like this one - the one I’ve been brought to - where I am most likely to want to escape.

I’ve done it before - just packed up and moved to a new city on a whim - and it comes from having the feeling of going backwards.

1 month ago I’d never ever have imagined that I was going to time travel backwards 4 years! Lol

I was happy - in a relationship, had a job with good colleagues, had a nice house I shared with my best friend - now I’m all alone back home where I started out from. Its permanently the moment before university again.