Things that are true:

I am a list-maker and a sporadic journaller. I'm one of those ridiculous dreamy people who prefers to substitute overly-long roll calls of corny pleasant things for actual relevant biographical information. Accordingly, I overuse the word 'lovely'. It's a plague amongst the romantic, notably the indie-blogging romantic (of which I wouldn't necessarily count myself part of, but still). Lovely this, lovely that, calling strangers by pet names, milkmaid braids in skinny girls' hair, She & Him, Au Revoir Simone...

As a public service, here are some adjectival synonyms for the general livening-up of things: admirable, adorable, alluring, amiable, attractive, beauteous, bewitching, captivating, comely, dainty, delectable, delicate, delicious, delightful, enchanting, engaging, enjoyable, enticing, exquisite, fair, fascinating, fetching, glamorous, gorgeous, graceful, gratifying, handsome, knockout, lovesome*, nice, picture, pleasant, pleasing, prepossessing, pretty, pulchritudinous**, rare, scrumptious, splendid, stunning, sweet, taking, tempting, winning, winsome.

* 'having or displaying warmth or affection' (my favourite)
** 'having great physical beauty' (don't really like this word)

Okay? Are we good peoples? Ever onwards!

I love colours! My favourite colour this week is warm yellow light (that's a colour okay). My equal second favourites are plum, and every shade of blue you can think of except electric. My favourite painting is Judith Slaying Holofernes by Artemesia Gentileschi because it is absolutely badass. I pretend to like super dark chocolate and spicy foods more than I actually do because it makes me feel powerful and in control. That used to be a secret, but I just put it on the internet so it isn't anymore!


I have a pretty prolific internet presence. This is largely because I hope that someone, one day, will find me, click my links, and fall so stupidly in love with me that they lose the power of speech. I am also hoping that this person is Stalker Type #2 (the type that goes through my Facebook photos again and again, imagining themselves in them with me), and not the type that makes hats out of human skin (Type #5, v. worrying). Beggars, however, cannot be choosers!


As a dedicated phase-goer-througher, I can never hold down a hobby for more than a week or two. The only real exceptions to this habit are the appreciation of music and photographic art and/or journalism. Webtrawling doesn't count as a hobby. Oh hi, I'm the most generic person in the world!


I cannot sustain writing. Um, the end?

P.S. This was saved in my (bursting) drafts folder about a month ago, but the past few days we've been listening to lectures on Ted Hughes about biographies and conflicting perspectives and whether you can own your own life story, and what is private and public, and whether there is such thing as absolute truth. The paradox of putting anything intimate into the public domain and expected not to be shredded for it. Sylvia Fucking Plath, et cetera. So when I found this entry just then I thought, why not? Sure, so there are plenty of reasons why not. But I never give the internet much of myself anymore (bar ugly desultory little bursts via Twitter and the like). Maybe that's an insanely good thing, the internet shouldn't and daresay doesn't want me. But I felt like writing for a bit with no real purpose so fuck it. Self-absorption is the new self-absorption! Thank god it's the weekend peoples, that's all I'm trying to say...