polly (missaline) wrote,
the sun has touched the mornings with little blue fingers; in turn, the mornings reach out to me and alight with a spring. trees are once again autumn colours. colours!the mountains have just a frosting of sugar snow. “february is the coldest month”, the eliot-inspired harbingers whispered. they lied.

my brother has been and gone, leaving in his wake a smattering of teenage hearts and tears. I took him to school for three days; on the last, when we left, we had a movie scene worth of schoolgirls hanging out the windows and shouting i love you george.we didn’t do all that much, but it felt wonderful - hungover whispered deepnesses in warm beds; remembering, remembering. being a translator for the first time. a jolt, switching train tracks onto the one where other people are there to be dealt with, where bad moods affect people other than you.

else - i had dinner last night with my glassmaker friend, the only japanese person I know who has been divorced. for divorced, read fucked over. more food and wine than I thought possible: tagliatelle squirming around in mounds of creamy wood mushrooms, chicken nestling under tomatoey lentils. Rich red wine echoing around in our conversations; she likes me, I like her.

this morning I feel good, hopeful again, maybe just the alcohol in my bloodstream, maybe not. I’ve been feeling really aimless - not miserable, exactly, but just robbed of purpose, forgetting why I’m here. I pray it isn’t going to get cold again; I need to start walking, shake off the winter coat in my mind, my body. march, I’ve decided, I’m going to write, really try and produce somethings, because I haven’t for ages. ever, really. I cry on the phone to alex and he is far nicer to me than I deserve.

saturday, a scottish ceilidh that cam and caroline put on. feeling a bit awkward and hot and overdressed. the artist boy was there, with his thai girlfriend, who looked boring and boring. not even very pretty; and she was drinking the guinness. she asked me if I was scottish too, and I said no I’m english. the end. i can be a horror sometimes. later, a remarkable conversation between me and daniel:

d - so I guess that was H’s girlfriend at the ceilidh.
p - you don’t guess, you know. yeah I know. she seemed like a sullen bitch
d - woah. I thought she seemed nice.
p - oh really? I didn’t actually talk to her.

he asked for my email, anyway.

my japanese is getting better, but its never enough. I still don’t know if I like japan, but I’m not worried about it at the moment. resolving in this moment not to worry any more.

p - don’t worry any more
p - that’s ridiculous.
p - don’t worry.
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