What a week. I voted Labour. Conservatives got in. Bastards.
When I heard the verdict I wanted to fill a bath tub with vodka, let my skin soak up the liquid; and remain numb to government decisions for the next five years. Then I realised I couldn’t possibly afford to indulge in such a wonderful/terrible pursuit.
Then I read an article about how female students are practically running themselves in to the ground. The by-line made me sad: ‘Worn down by a toxic blend of stereotyping, relentless deadlines and guilt, women at universities are making time for a bit of self care’. I’ve currently got acne and a 3000 essay that’s due on the 28th of this month. I’ve left no time for ‘a bit of self care’. Perhaps that’s the real reason I wanted to lay in a bath tub full of vodka?
I’ve been so busy panicking about deadlines/finances/other people that I forgot to CALM. THE. HELL. DOWN. I’ve spent too much time listening to the thousands of thoughts ricocheting around my skull when I should only be listening to one thing: Patti Smith’s Easter. I read Just Kids in 2012 and fell in love with her.
I shouldn’t complain: being busy is beautiful and life is currently one brilliant thing after another, but it’s okay to take a break, put Patti Smith on and remember: ‘I have no guilt’.
I wake up. I am lying peacefully. I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun. I desire him, and he is absolutely ready to seize me.
In heart I am a Moslem; In heart I am an American; In heart I am Moslem, In heart I’m an American artist, and I have no guilt.
I seek pleasure. I seek the nerves under your skin. The narrow archway; the layers; the scroll of ancient lettuce.
We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly, the mole on the belly of an exquisite whore. He spared the child and spoiled the rod.
I have not sold myself to God.
Babelogue – Patti Smith