Gulliver and I are way early for our yoga class so photos.
It is 30 degrees. The swallows are skimming over the short grass in the pasture fields, scooping up grasshoppers and damselflies. The grass and wildflowers in my meadow are up to the nape of my neck. It’s ridiculous. So ridiculous that I made a little nest, took all my clothes off and snoozed for an hour or so. I didn’t think I could get any browner. I was wrong.
And now we come to the “looking quizzical in a field” portion of the news.
Brighton’s bin men, recycling dudes and street cleaners went on a seven-day strike on Friday. The city looks, and smells, like something from 28 Days Later, only with human beings.
The Gulf Stream is still playing silly buggers and floating around just to the south of the UK, which is why it’s mostly like October here now. Mostly.
Still, I’m brown. And barefoot. There are baby woodlice crawling on my feet. They’re cute. So that’s nice.
Say hello to my little friend.
I knew you guys wouldn’t believe me.
I wasn’t just lounging around in that photo. Not shown was my notebook bulging with wonderful words. Over-fucking-flowing with brilliant sentences. Packed to the gills with paragraphs of heart-stopping beauty and crystalline insight. A story of such depth and complexity that OK I was slightly drunk and had written a couple of pages which I’m unable to read today because my handwriting got a little, um, inventive.
I love being a writer.
I could tell you there’s some serious novelling going on here. But you wouldn’t believe me.
First I was like Fuck you, universe, I hate you, I’m going to cry myself sick and ugh I hate you my life is over, but then I was all, Hey, you know what? Fuck you, universe, you’re pretty great, you magnificent bastard, imma sit here in my knickers and watch four episodes of The X-files (series 5) back to back and eat cream cheese out of the tub with a knife AND I WILL LICK THE KNIFE TOO because I am obvs such a dainty deer-like creature and, well, ok then let’s do this thing. And then I felt happy. The end.
To Croatia tomorrow to finish the wolfish novel (which is going to be so great you guys, I love it fiercely, it is making me such a happy pup). It’s almost 11pm, I need to pack still and I haven’t eaten yet, so obviously I’m drinking red wine and taking photographs of myself as a moody gypsy.
Ovo je moj glup lice. Nemojte ga zaboraviti. Volim te.
People think because I’m tiny and have wee hands and a long neck that I’m probably dainty and bird-like, graceful like a cat. And oh I can be. But put £1600 of someone else’s Canon lens in my hands and guess what happens. That’s right. GRACEFUL AS A BABY RHINOCEROUS ON ROLLERSKATES. Wish me luck as I sally forth to shoot my first major show.
BABY RHINO SMASH!
It’s about time for some of this layin’ about in fields malarky, don’tcha think?
Me and Cindy Sherman. Cindy Sherman and I.
Sometimes I dream of a world in which my hair doesn’t try to eat my face all the time. I would be able to see stuff if I had sensible straight hair! I wouldn’t walk into people in the street! I would pick up my own pint in the pub, not someone else’s! But it would be a cold, hard place, you guys. A cold, hard place without my curls to blinker me and keep me feeling warm and safe. They are magical curls and if you ever felt them their softness would make you happy. So I will grow my hair and learn to navigate using sonar. Like a dolphin. A curly-headed dolphin. Something like that.
So for my photography class assignment this week I had to produce a fuckton of self-portraits, literal and non-literal, no post-processing (ack!), with my amazing new/old Canon EOS 20D. I am loving doing this so much, learning so much. I feel so happy, so calm, so right, when I’m making photographs, it is just the best thing. Though it is weird spending so much time thinking about yourself and how to comunicate you through images, composing those images, taking them, looking at them, deciding what is right. My hour with my camera in the woods (top right) playing and messing about and setting up the self-timer and running away was the happiest I’ve been in ages. True story. I can’t wait to do landscape. More clouds! Whee! So I’ll put a few up here every week, my favourites, but if you want to look at them properly, and see the others, have a look on Flickr because the compression on Tumblr is shocking. Shocking, I tell you.
Some of these I really love, some of them I don’t, but I’m learning and loving it which is the whole point. I’m presenting the final 18 in class tomorrow (I’ll be calling them GPOYW because I love confounding people) so why don’t you come watch me stammer and blush and laugh and I’ll let you buy me a pint afterwards. If you can’t make it tomorrow there is always Flickr, if it do ya and thankee sai.