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edible has moved to www.edibleangela.wordpress.com.

Every now and then, I breathe

Once, I kept a copy of letters. Now, signed and sealed without a backwards glance.

I attempted to cull, and now I have 13 more friends than when I started.
I want to ask those not subscribed to defriend me, but they’re not listening.

My attention is turned back inwards, to matters of the heart and mind, and that frustrates me.

I thought this wouldn’t hurt a lot, I guess not.

Friday night’s a great night for cooking

Making something from nothing.

Although, we never actually have nothing, we always have something.

So what am I doing?

Just hanging out.

Painstakingly peeling red apples with knives sharpened on the back of other knives.

Without the glossy skin, the bruises become evident. And underneath, it’s rotten to the core.

I cut it out, surprised but not disgusted.

I have never seen such a pretty apple, I have never adored one so, and I have never seen one so rotten. Wet.

The whole core must come out. Apple, sans skin and sans core. I have never seen such a thing in my life, as three, blind, mice.

I eat it. I’m the kind of person who licks the knife blade clean.

Drivel Nicael Holt would disdain

My cat comes running it, and sits beside me, alert and a little twitchy. He is a fat cat, and doesn’t run anywhere except to his food bowl, and away from the dog. And that’s how today was.

I woke up an hour and a half before my alarm, which was apparently the right time. My alarm was set 4 hours before its usual time, to give you an idea.

42 minute interview, learn to transcribe.

Sit in sun, play fetch, Tweet about the sun. Inspect garden, eat strawberries, move plants. Roast potatoes with jam.

Sort cupboards and drawers. Shower, dress, empty compost. Send texts. Puzzle over how smoothie got on the kitchen ceiling.

Lunchtime presentation on setting up a small business: passion, energy, yeah yeah that’s sorted, but what about the ACTUAL business set-up?

Intuition win: meet person I half-way through emailing. Survive barely hostile interactions with ex-boyfriend.

View potential co-op space. Suggest ideas. Write business plan.

Phone meeting re: June. Eat leftovers. Set-up voicemail. Another fortuitous meeting.

Print book draft. Realise I have had the contacts I need all along.

Bounce ball, in pink mittens.

Consider painting bed.

Yoga is cancelled and I am relieved, that’s how constructive my day was.

The kind of constructive that required hydration.

I want to sleep with the sunset. Instead, I come inside, write, and scrub the ceiling.

Fucking Switzerland

Some things are not negotiable. Like death, and other people’s priorities.

I don’t remember the last time I brushed my teeth
It may have been a week ago
I left my toothbrush somewhere.
I also don’t remember when I last shampooed my hair or shaved my armpits
Take that, society.

He is standing on his tiptoes in front of her… and
Now I understand jealousy.

Sunset over the beaches

‘Aren’t they cute? Knee high to a grasshopper’. Sylus, the three-year old, waddle runs and reminds me of an oompa loompa. The children are like puppies, they bound around, falling over their feet chasing the ball. They crash into each other. Their mothers are alert and only three steps away when they have a boo boo and cry.

My eyes sting. I attempt to connect with the world around me.

A grandmother in a red shirt holds her camera and records every socceroo moment.

I blink and slowly comprehend that I need to move the basket on the bench beside me to make room for two grandpas.

I had two grandpa’s, once.

Blink. The elderly gentleman is talking to me about the children, his wife is pointing out which one they are here to watch play.

I was that little, once.

Blink. Yeah, I can be loud, sure. Enthusiasm plus, that’s me. I’ll come in and blow enthusiastically on a whistle for an hour every Saturday morning at 9am, why not. Coach Angela, with her own blue t-shirt. I’m a night person, and that won’t even buy me a slab of cocoa butter, but shit, I could do with some cuteness in my life. So much hope in dem lil shiny baby eyes.

My eyes are red-rimmed and I am conscious of it. In the bathroom I am surprised at how together I look.

Coffee Black and egg-white fucking fine.

I smile, nod and agree, and bounce enthusiastically at the correct times. I tick all the boxes. It comes easily.

He wants a commitment from me. I’m in, right? Gonna do this? I shrug, and smile, and nod… then respond: You’re gonna pick me up in the mornings, right?

And as easily as it comes, it goes.

I’m walking on a treadmill, a hamster wheel; I’m treading water, paddling circles in a lake. I have tried and failed more times in these last months than I have in my entire life. Another plan B bites the dust.

Luckily, coming home coincides with an overdue business meeting, rolls me into the lap of a man who thinks I can make something happen.

(Maybe if I find enough people who think I can make it happen, I will believe in what I have created).

I call my mother, and tell her I need to decide what to do, and she says, I can’t help you with that my dear.

And isn’t that the truth.

Underachiever

The actual, genuine reasons why I have consistantly underachieved my whole life.

1. My parents don’t financially support me. This results in me having to work while studying, or being poor and hungry.
2. The printing, textbooks and other supplies needed to function are expensive.
3. To get a job I need qualifications, to afford to eat I need a job. And so it goes.
4. My boyfriend/s broke up with me/ cheated on me/ lied to me/ broke my heart.
5. My house/s was/were demolished/lease ended/ housemates[gotmarried/weredruggos/died]/boyfriend was a cunt etc
6. I was unhappy/stressed/anxious/depressed for any of the above reasons and couldnt concentrate.
7. I am insomniac for any of the above reasons, and thus missed any classes scheduled before midday.
8. I had a headache.
9. I am a creative person who rebels against rules and restrictions.
10. If I was duller, I’d have learnt to be conscientious. But I didn’t.
11. I require a challenge to motivate me. this tends to come in the form of a deadline- ‘to complete’, rather than ‘to excel’.
12. i am a perfectionist and would prefer to do my best in a short timeframe than give myself adequate time then not go well
13. I am so good at procrastinating I even fool myself.
14. Staying inside all day studying makes me frustrated and unhappy.
15. Spending all my time studying stops me from cooking and that makes me frustrated and unhappy
16. My house, dishes, clothes and sheets need to be cleaned.
17. I was busy jelly-wrestling
18. I have a facebook/youtube addiction
19. My laptop battery/ internet connection died
20. My room is cold enough to see my breath
21. Acadaemia is disjunct from any spiritual/actual reality and I would prefer to be living

Clear skies make for cold air. I walk lightly, and giggle to myself, penning in my mind: Cunts.

The doctor isn’t meant to backdate, but he gives me a 3 day medical certificate. Homeworks not done, refer to number 8. More due in 48 hrs, havent started. Same old story, morning glory. On the patio, the adorable-horse dog puts her nose in my crotch.

Paradox

I’m eating a strange mix of oats, puffed rice, soy milk and spirulina. Add honey to anything and it’s palatable (like oxytocin and men). Sans the aftertaste, spirulina tastes like vagina. This week I’m a lesbian, and lucky for me, apparently exploring sexuality is societally acceptable, this week. Or so it seems.

On the train home I couldn’t keep my eyes open. For fear of missing my stop, I set my alarm. Then I couldn’t sleep.

I walk home with a backpack at one am, past the house where my exboyfriends girlfriend lives. I used to fuck him there.

I just emptied my bank account to pay the rent; in the fridge are more fruit and vegetables than I can poke a stick at.
Underpromise and overdeliver, she quips, but I’m not sure I can do that today, my friends.
My life seems to be the otherway around. Like a marching band, not moving, in place.
My house is a black hole, I go in here and never come out, and no one leaves notes on the door.

I wish someone would leave a note on the front door.

She was tanned, and earthy and curvy, just like I wished. Her hands were warm, her face was pretty. She wanted me on top, and fucking her made me come quicker than any guy ever has.
I don’t want her, anymore. I don’t want anymore of her. then why am I left aching?
Next to her I had to concentrate to sleep, like I always do, next to them. until I don’t.
All I wanted to do was eat her, and I did, and I liked the way she tasted, like me.
On the table were some SSRI’s, because none of us want to be around anymore. Their crinkle reminds me of the underlying drone she might feel as her life; or perhaps a drone would be a welcome relief from where she is, perhaps that’s what they’re for.

I have three phones, and I don’t want to talk to anyone. Not really.

Hippocrates’ scrolling Facebook newsfeed reflection of reality. Why the fuck am I still awake? (There are many ways to self-medicate).

11hours unconscious.

Phone rings: I won’t be going to India in July. I am excused from stepping out of my comfort zone today.

In the mail comes a package: Bridging discourses in the ESL Classroom. ‘I know this subject is a little tiresome. Eyes on the big picture, beautiful. Plan b could be fun and you like teaching. Xx Love me’.
Yes, I do love you, whoever you are, and you’re right about everything, except its actually back to Plan A. Pubishthegoddamedbook. Plan B is no longer an option. Again.

I’m eating a smoothie, berries, dates, goji, spirulina, oats, soy milk. The weather is cold and the cat is meowing.

I don’t have cat food, kitty litter, chia seeds or red lentils, and I’ve diluted the dregs of the moisturiser. I used up the last of the buckwheat flour making pancakes and haven’t refilled the black ink. I want to buy an insertable period cup. Fuck Tampons.

Awake at 4am. I have friends who tell me I need to change and yeah, I do. But maybe not in the way they intend.

The sunlight is bright and I writhe in discomfort. my feet grip the warm cement as though it is them holding me to the earth and not gravity.

The inside of the house is cold, and the walls feel emptier than usual.
I can smell myself, and usually I like that, but today it smells like her, not me.
There are sesame seeds, but no tahini. /With one hand he giveth and the other he taketh away/.
The cat meows pitifully, and it’s like that, we can have it all, but not at once, because some things are mutually exclusive.

Suddenly it is raining and I am back in bed, misting the screen of my phone with the condensation of my breath.

harsh realities, unfortunate life facts. Fo’ real, yo

Let’s be honest.

1. No matter how many times I wash my clothes, I will still have a long-haired cat who I am allergic to.

2. No matter how many times I work and pay my bills, I will still get more bills (also applies to cleaning and sorting).

3. Despite my most fervent wishes, people are not perfect. They are narcissistic, fearful, neurotic and selfish. Myself included.

4. This is a capitalist society. Money is capital. Time is capital. If I refuse to sell my time, I am likely to not have money.

5. Everyone I come into contact with is bound by the capitalist constraints of this society also.

6. The world is full of many other creative, competitive people. If they sell their time, they’ll have money.

7. Cars cost money. We do not have teleportation. It probably wouldn’t be free anyway.

8. Music festivals are not going to organise and celebrate themselves, or occur in my backyard.

9.  Men, at any age, fathers or not, can be selfish and emotionally immature. No man can save or complete me, not really.

10. Technology, as created by mankind, is fallible. To expect it to be otherwise would be a grave error of judgement.

11. Over time, all things are created and destroyed. This applies to my possessions, laptops, phones, hands-frees, chef knives.

12. Manifestation is never immediate. Life takes time.

13. For every up, there will be an equal and opposite down. Mathematically, therefore, everything amounts to naught.

14. Men (with higher beta-endorphins) mature slower than women. Women are patient out of necessity rather than nature.

15.  Although ultimately each individual can rely only on themselves, paradoxically we cannot get through this life alone.

16. Most people are arrogant idiots. Vegan or not, processed food will make you sick. Man is not above nature.

17. My university education is not going to learn itself. Likewise, dinner is not going to cook itself. Ever.

18.  Cats will meow.

19. There is no arrival point from where life will henceforth be easy, unproblematic and clear. Savour such transient moments.

20.  Life will not deliver your hopes and dreams to you on a silver platter-

until you figure out what the fuck they are and commit to them.

21. Sitting on Facebook, no matter how alluring and temporarily satiating, will not equate to a fulfilled life.

22. Cyber-pseudo-reality is not reality, and your body knows it, even if you don’t.

23. Despite what society may tell you, being sexually attractive won’t make you happy. Really.

24. Knowing what brings you joy (yoga) will result in frustration if you deny yourself (when class is only on in the mornings).

25. Breathing is not optional. Resistance is.

26. Nothing is ever achieved in this world without at one time or another being made number one priority.

27. Conflicting priorities will result in inconsistent and half-hearted results. I cannot be both rich, famous and educated right now.

28. The pot and the kettle are almost always black. Especially if I am in the kitchen. Fact.

29.  As many steps as you take away from nature, you will need to take back to her.

30. There are 7 billion humans on the planet and we are all essentially the same. Ordinary. (I am ordinary).

31. If you do not honour your inspiration (write, talk, act), your inspiration will pass you by.

32. Plenty more fish in the sea? No. Almost outta fish, kids.

33.  If one stays up past when one is tired, one will get up later and later each successive day. My life is conclusive evidence.

crisp night air

Life on the whole can be disappointing. Then you look over and there’s a frangipani on your shoulder. It’s the rich warmth of fresh night air with a hollow sinking emptiness. It’s a shiny-faced perfectly functioning android with no reception.

I turn my phone off for 24hrs. There was a time when every minute ached; now that barely scratches the surface of the disconnection I seek.

I carry my groceries and my arms burn, like this anger turned inwards. James Hollis, my whole fucking life is a middle passage.

Fucking Spirulina

Behind my knees is sweating onto my tight bum bell-buttom tel aviv jeans.

I mumble assertively some prattle about how difficult life is, far too difficult to have written 1500 words on socio-cultural and acquisition approaches to langauge learning in the meantime. Far too difficult. Somehow, I have another two weeks to convince my inner two-year old to sit down and just fucking write something, anything, for fucks sake.

I want to go play Lego. I sit in a stairwell and type. I’m losing my voice, and it has the opposite to intended effect.

This morning I broke my housemates smoothie blender. Then when I went to drink the cold, green sludge, it slid down the tube in one gelatinous mass and landed on my face. Fiddling with that electrical appliance made me late for the bus, and sweaty. Fucking Spirulina.