bien que mon amour est fou, ma raison calm la doleur dans mon coeur.
il ma dit, d'etre patient et garder l'espoir.

Tuesday, 29 June 2010

Some Things Last A Long Time

I haven't forgotten about you.

Monday, 28 June 2010

When The Wind Begins To Sing

O, the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the corn it ripens fastest
when the frosts are setting in
And when a woman tells me
that my face she'll soon forget
Before we part I'll wage a crown
she's fain to follow yet

The snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the swallow flies without a thought
as long as it is spring
But when spring goes and winter blows,
my love, then you'll be fain
For all your pride to follow me
across the stormy main

O, the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing
And the bee that flew when summer shone
in winter cannot sting
And I've seen a woman's anger
melt between the night and morn
So it's surely not a harder thing
to tame a woman's scorn

O, never say me farewell here
-no farewell I'll receive,
For you shall set me to the stile,
and kiss and take your leave
But I'll stay here til the woodcock comes
and the martlet takes his wing
For the snows they melt the soonest
when the wind begins to sing.

Sunday, 27 June 2010


"Come, gentle night, come loving, black-browed night, give me my Romeo. And when I shall die, cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

The Prettiest Star

Prom was as i expected prom to be. They played the songs I thought they would play, they shook my hand and wished me luck, they made phony promises to 'meet up for a coffee in the summer' And it made me kind of sad that it all passed me by, and that 5 years in that place were over like that. I was brimming with resentment and pride and regret and excitement, and now I can't stop thinking that i wasted some of it. My dress was 60's and everyone looked at me and I felt out of place, I stick out like a sore thumb >>>
I know that nobody really reads this, so I said I was in love. I know that nobody really reads this, so i can say that I'm not sure what to do anymore. It's like I've been handed the moon and I don't know what to do with it, and every time I try to show someone the moon, every time I really bathe in the light of it, it disapears. The time of day changes, and I'm left standing there, wishing there was some way I could understand the nature of it's coming and going.
How naive I am! And how insolent. I will not let anyone advise me, so I stumble, and I fall.
I will not then let anyone comfort me, I find consolation in only one form.

Friday, 18 June 2010

La vie en rose

I'm in love.
Nobody reads this, so I can say that.
I'm in love.
It's both the worst and the best thing that has happened to me.
There's a part of me that feels so much so soon, like a wave, instead of washing over me it drowns me. But I come up, spluttering and light headed. Because I want to live.
I want to see it and feel it and live it.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

Friday, 11 June 2010

Churlish May

My friend has recently had me obsessed with this song, Churlish May, and Johnny Flynn in general. I'm quite infatuated, his lyrics are poetry.

I met Jane is September's throe. January's grasp, we let each other go.
I met Helen on March's back, she took my coat and she stole my hat.
I met you when the weather got fine, you said "I've got yours if you've got mine."

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.

Didn't take long to sing our love, was a harvest feast, was a hand to glove.
When winter came, you couldn't stand to sit. You're just the same, never burnt but lit.
With the world at war and my thoughts on you, I didn't care to fall, there wasn't much to do.

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.

Churlish May when the year was fair, gone full circle when things went square.
Ate my meal, an unnoble beast, left me to pay, not a movable feast.
Look I've got nothing, don't know where I am, got a fistfull of questions, not an answer to hand.

And the worst and the best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.
Morning dew. With a blow me down, we're all dead in the wood,

Further from you now than the roots from the leaves.
Drunk from the wood, never seen any trees.
My oar's out the water and the lake that I'm sailing is your dear father's daughter
and it's cold and I'm ailing.
Are you drowning me slowly? Was a school meant to teach?
Are you leaving so slowly? Where's the shore? Where's the beach?

And the worst and best of all we knew stayed out to rust in the morning dew.

Thursday, 10 June 2010

I want to ride my bicycle

Recently, my math's tutor has become more of a friend. Drinking cups of tea and discussing her old romances seems to take up the hour we're meant to spend on algebra. I've always liked older people, I've never felt very comfortable in my own skin, being my own age. Mama says I was born 40. Her kitten is dying, and I've never seen a woman so dependent on a frail little bag of bones. Prays night and day, but when she sleeps, she doesn't dream of him.

I ride my bicycle to go and see her every sunday morning, I am infamous in Ainsdale for it, you may have heckled me once or twice, many have. If so do continue! Always appreciated. She dreams every night that she is riding a bicycle, something she hasn't done for about 50 years, and says she feels it's her only escape.

Funny the way the subconscious works, isn't it? 50 years. Some dreamy little girl comes along and it's all she can think of.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Squeaky clean

New blog. Not that I have the time or inspiration to be doing this, so it's likely a patchwork of thoughts & pretty things I like to look and listen to.

"A la folie, pas du tout" was a bizarre film with Audrey Tatou going a little erotomania and making sweet little collages of this man out of the pills she's meant to take... is it perverse that it was really rather beautiful? Addictive to say the least. Either way, it's the absolute definition of "L'amour fou". Crazy love, foolish love, obsessive love. I love how dramatic the French are,

"Bien que mon amour est fou
ma raison calm la douleur dans mon couer
il ma dit
d'etre patient et garder l'espoir..."

"Though my love is insane
my reason calms the pain in my heart
it tells me
to be patient and keep hoping..."