I never told you my little story

I never told you

A-i-w-a

I never told you my little story

I never told you

A-i-w-a

I never told you my little story

I never told you

I can bark at night

I can bark at night

I can bark at

A-i-w-a

I never told you my little story

I never told you

A-i-w-a

I can bark at night

I can bark at night (woof woof)

I can bark at night

A-i-w-a

Three times at night I wake

Three times at night I wake

myself barking

Three times at night I wake

Three times at night I wake

myself barking

Three times at night I wake

myself barking

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

(and I will love you)

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

I'll make lunch, lunch, lunch

And I'll buy you waffles

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

Stay with me, stay with me

I'll make omelette and eggs

(and I will love you)

I'll make lunch, lunch, lunch

And I'll buy waffles

Be silent

all your life, all your life

Be silent

all your life, all your life

you have to shut up and

Be silent

all your life, all your life

Shut up and

Be silent

all your life, all your life

(ok, I am tired).

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(I know how not to burn other fruit and vegetables too)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(while having a shower at the same time)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(I know how to take a shower)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(I never told you other things too, I know)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(sitting in the patio and dreaming of you)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(wanting to be there, with you, in the patio)

I never told you this
but I know how not to burn the beans

(I think I may have actually burnt the beans)

Drunk last night and thinking of you. I wrote a little song: I never told you this, but I know how not to burn the beans. I know there is an extra syllable in the second line there, but I just say it a little more quickly than the first. Struggled a bit to make it fit in, but I managed. It is a version of 'And if you stay', but culinary, you know, with food and cutlery. And I also played an instrument yesterday, before all the drinking. Kind of happy about that. I got up 8am with the screaming and shouting of a 6 year old outside of my door, who is staying here for a few days. Then I went to be again till 1pm and woke up feeling still drunk but happier.

I am so stressed again, but no diarrhoea this time. Just a bloated tummy - had some german vegetable that looks like a round potato, only green. I am taking it easy, did two sun salutations this morning, I am keeping warm. And yet, I am feeling so stressed and unsettled and far from home. But my home is not where my home is, it is probably further than that. Not sure exactly where, probably next to a green checked woollen blanket that is left by the piano on top of a red plastic box full of books for donation.

Thank you for our chat last night. You are so nice; of course I knew that, but now I know it more. More than before, more than before before, you know. I am terrified talking about stuff like that. Like being honest and talking about stuff like that. I am now wearing a woollen pullover I found in the free bookshelves. It is raining today, but I am going to see a show later on and then say goodbye to my students.

I dreamt I threw a birthday party for a slug. It was sticky and very very fun.

I have a fireman in my house installing a fire alarm upstairs. I think he is eating crisps. I wonder whether he has tried my new mattress too.

I was stroking you and I knew this is not right but I did not know why - perhaps because you were my dad - but that did not seem to be a problem then - there was something else the matter - perhaps that you were indifferent towards me and did not seem to care.

I was recruiting and one of them slashed my wrist and I texted N. 'I think he is a loser' and N. replied 'What makes you think that'? The sister of the slasher saw me writing the message and wanted to read it and my heart was beating because I was scared of my own life and tried to delete it inside the taxi cab.

so fucking tired of these numbers, yeah yeah, subtraction, percentage, maths. I do not know how to calculate percentage, I do not understand the difference between a DVD reader and writer, I have no clue why my fringe is going sideways. I am full of questions, questions coming out of my entire orifice, mouth, nostrils, nostrils especially. I am going to thread my moustache and shut up.

if no stupid children are in the map for me, I should abandon suburbia straightaway in 3, 2, 1 and go back to the magnificent city (with its lights blah blah) and enjoy gentrification to its max.

OR up and down

Up and down OR

Love my OR I've always have. 

No, not true. First OR today. Kind of got cocky and wrote OR. Just that. 

I do love the details. Like the detail of that wedding planning and the different colours of the lamp fans, and the flowers on the porcelain plate and the birds on the china cups. And leaving your postcard on the side, but not hidden, placed but not abandoned, near other stuff but nor out of site. I am making a forest. A large one, in which I can wonder around and place under each tree my square tears. This is how the forest will grow and blossom and be able to accommodate both of us.

so many times I have waited for something I am tired and my stomach hurts. I had some quinoa with basil and tomato (ready made) and I have to replant the hanging basket. I watered the window pot this morning, in my new thick socks and shabby trousers - I filled the blue vase and went out. This is always one of my favourite moments; it is a moment of ownership, complete have-ness. I have a blue vase, a window and a window pot. The flowers inside, which I have planted myself. And I have my socks, of course, and the water that dribbles down the pavement and this white door.

something is stirring, something inside my soup is stirring, it is a little fish that did not die during the transportation, a little fish which is still swimming in my soup, all the way around, past the wheat noodles and the chilli flakes.