Got My Own Chanel.

Got My Own Chanel.

Monday, May 31, 2010

The sleep, perchance to dream.

Sleep is not wasted when one has the ability to dream.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Mind if I smoke? Care if I die?

How can a lithe piece of paper filled with tobacco be so fatally attractive in the eyes of some?

What's good company when someone is better friends with the cigarette?
Needing their company every five minutes rather than yours.

Does one not realise that as they joviantly laugh at the grotesque picture on the pack, that picture is nonchalantly becoming their reality?

Riddle me why it is not self indulgent to be paying to kill yourself slowly but surely?

And 50 years on, the tobacco stained skin, the husky voice and the lined face don't quit when you do.

But behind the anger it evokes, the naivety it exposes, the scars it leaves, maybe, just maybe one day, you will see why it hurts more than anything else. You will see when one of the people you love the most gets lung cancer 30 years after he has quit. But his 40 years of not having quit came back to haunt him. Because unfortunately it put up the unbeatable battle. And just when you think you've won you find that 5 years on he dies because his lungs are too scarred to keep working.

And now, maybe now, you can begin to fathom why it is the hurt that outweighs all the rest.
And that now the rest means rest in peace.
And the good bye you used to say to him, you instead have to say to his coffin.

I miss you Grandad.

Monday, May 24, 2010

We pass this way but once.

May your kind smile be the one to linger with us till our last days.
May you let us see the world through your twinkling hazel eyes.
May the love you held for us give us strength through these trying times.
May your creased skin still hold all the memories even now that you're gone.
May your kind voice echo in our thoughts when it is you whom we think of.
May it be your face that lights up the night sky if we cannot now have you in our days.

All I know is the sun is shining.

Writing an essay is a little bit like the a cloudy day.
If you think about it, the sun never actually goes out. Someone, somewhere, in the world always has it. And even when it is cloudy, above the clouds is the sun, smiling down with its big cherry face giving you the answers. The clouds are merely the procrastination one utilises to avoid doing the essay, the procrastination that tells you there isn't the information up there to do it, to get on with it. To nail that shit. To A+ the mother fucker.

But the clouds always clear at some point and even if there are only those few rays of sunshine pounding down on the pavement it's enough to make the start.

Have a sun shiney day, not a cloudy one.

Monday, May 10, 2010

I like this word.

I got that idiosyncrasy.