George Pringle Carte Postale
Some days I actually pine for a sleepover and a polo
shirt again.
This year saw change.
I started dying my hair lighter.
I cut in a fringe and I started wearing drainpipes that
hugged my legs and I suppose the same problems
remained.
They just got more complicated and they curled out
further.
My problems stretched out in the sun and they sent me a
postcard to say that they hoped I was okay and "I'sn't
Buenons Aires fabulous?".
Well, maybe this was bought on by a newfound ability to
sleep alone, or apathy.
I don't know.
I think new years begin in September, well at least for
me they always have.
I've always been fnd of September.
Spring is never a good time.
It's a trussed up and beautiful drag queen but autumn
is real.
So in the "New Year" period I changed a lot and all the
while I thought "suuuch a great tragedy I never looked
this good as a teenager".
All the while I let a ferocity build up in me.
I took it out on myself, the shorter my skirts got and
the skinnier my legs bowed and the flatter my chest got
and all the while we were sweethearts.
I threw beautiful lines that I never knew I was even
capeable of.
I counted green pills and cigarette ends.
I stopped playing guitar and I let my fingers soften
and my nails grown for a while.
I started drinking more and keeping unusual hours.
I started playing Street Fighter II, until my eyes felt
like they were going to drop out of my head and then
I'd get enraged by the fact I was never going to be
good enough to play Hyper Mode and Blanka was always
going to be stronger than Chun Li.
So maybe I should enlighten you on what happens in your
absence.
This selfish existance where this intravert turns
extrovert and dons their social armour.
I became the perfect party apprentice, with a PHD in
sitting on kitchen counters and drawing my cheeks in
and shooting you looks that I don't even mean.
Hips that grind to scratchy indie hits and shoes that
stick to nightclub floors.
Well, you couldn't understand why I can't.
You've never been up at 4am with "The Fear".
You've never laid on your bedroom floor half blind and
you wouldn't love the girl that wakes up perspiring
beer.
I cry much less these days.
I can't help but wonder what happened to ninjas and
adventure.
My dreams are like flashes and they give me hope.
In these dreams I grew the bones of a fighter while you
were sleeping and I fought and I seduced from a
terraced house that rides a hill in this dead little
city.
Cinematic mini-epics sobered by train lines and phone
lines and I forget these things.
My life's a tangle of cables these days.
Roads and train tracks are like wallpaper now.
I started taking hundreds upon hundreds of photographs,
all of which you were absent from.
A detailed scientific investigation into light
reflected on glass
And I became invisible.
Listening to Techno and Shoegaze in my room all alone.
And private parties all for myself.
Slender fingers honed from MSN.
An encyclopeadic knowledge of daytime television
presenters.
