ha. i was going through a highly emotional phase. lots of tears. i was doing some work on early trauma in therapy at the time so i guess i was thinking a lot of heavy thoughts. i kept a diary of my emotions for a while. see where the triggers were. it turned out to be mostly the beautiful things in life. songs, love, the people i care about.
happy valentines day! it’s a bit late but why not buy a custom poem from the gift shop? prices are eyewateringly high but if you email me code ‘cheapskatelove’ i’ll do you a deal. 8 lines for £50 inc. vat. limited to the first 1million customers.
#autism #spokenword #brexit #writing #poetry
what is it to be a human? in any instant, all there is are the sensations you feel, see, hear, etc. a temperature, the weight of the earth pushing against your feet or arse, your shirt label on your neck. and then there is the story you tell yourself these things mean. but you know, you could be a brain in a vat being fed false experiences by a computer. and you are free to tell yourself that story if you prefer it.
i can’t really throw. or catch. i’ve got a bit better at it over the years, but i am just not a hand eye coordination sort of person. likewise, i am not designed to use raquets. i once chucked a tennis raquet into the air in frustration, only to catch it with my face shortly thereafter.
i don’t think i have ever successfully struck a shuttlecock. and how anyone can hit a baseball with such a narrow bat i’ll never comprehend.
so it’s little surprise that i am also hopeless at chucking sticks for the dog. yet every time, i’m a bit disappointed in myself. a bit of me seems to believe i’m eventually going to get the knack of it.
ah well. so it’s a year i’ve had these airpods now. returning from an early morning climbing session, my airpod escaped the ear canal and went for the drain instead. i presume anyway. i looked for a while then went to argos and bought new ones. can’t live an adequate life without headphones.
in the 90s i used to take long coach trips. to france, italy, spain. one year, i must have been 7 or 8, for entertainment we got a documentary about elvis pressley. i was instantly obsessed. and then suddenly bereaved – my hero was dead before i even knew him. i cried. i listened to elvis tapes. i got a leather jacket. quite autistic, in retrospect.
i don’t listen to as much elvis these days. but i will always love the king. and if suspicious minds comes on the radio, i will give it my full attention every time.
i met a pal at the supermarket and i think he mentioned he had recently had an injury to the testicles. and then i bought some kippers…
i had jerk fish and chips at a carribean themed restaurant and it was really nice. best fish and chips ever probably. there must have been a pineapple chutney or something. it reminded me of roots manuva’s witness (1 hope). and to avoid accusations of plagiarism, i named the verse ‘witness (1 dope)’, me being the dope eating the jerk and summoning the power of banana clan.
so i have a pair of basketball shorts i wear to the gym that are too big for me, so i need to tie the waistband quite tight. but then i have to undo it if i want to pee. what a pain in the arse. then i realised i can just pee out the leg of the shorts. also useful on the bike or out for a trail run.
sleepy as hell this morning after a big day on the bike in the hills in the sun yesterday. at this time last year i was riding my gravel bike in the some cold scottish forest in prep for a trip to gran canaria. and i was riding some new wheels.
earlier trip this year so yesterday i was lost on the road bike on a gravel track lost alone in lanzarote having a meltdown and shouting expletives.
the love epochal. n.n. benn 