said the chav girl to some boy, somewhere. with the somewhere being directly outside my window.
I'm hiding in my duvet. My curtains are closed. The voices are in the distance but my heart is running out of the door.
They don't pose a threat, at all. Really, they're probably incredibly harmless.
the voices have gone.
I'm not used to there being youths in my village. I'm not used to there being anyone other than old white people. I went on a walk the other week and I jumped with joy when I saw a black man. I almost felt like welcoming him and congratulating him on becoming the first black man to visit/Dear God possibly even live in my village, but I didn't want to scare him away so
smileSMILE-not forgetting the teeth- and 'Good Afternoon!' jolly jolly.
Context. My area has been under the jurisdiction of the same Tory MP for the last 27 years. It's like New Labour never happened. It's like the internet never happened. It's like capitalism is just a buzzword. We have a pub that's empty by 22.00. If you're still there at 21.30 you're going to be judged for living a life of hedonism. You will be accused of sodomising the fairy trees and scaring away the butterflies.
Context. A crazy lady (context: the man who impregnated my mother fucked her on my sofa) told me that if you see a ribbon on a tree, the fairies will visit that tree. My village is also WORLD FAMOUS amongst people who really love butterflies. re. no-one.
There's a walk in my village that crosses a railway line. Sometimes I stand on the line and wonder if tragedy will rape the village with shit-angst modernity.
but the trains only come once every couple of hours, anyway
and I've got to watch TV and shit.
and I refuse to sacrifice myself for the sake of a village with only one (potential) black resident. and a post office.
I'm hiding in my duvet. My curtains are closed. The voices are in the distance but my heart is running out of the door.
They don't pose a threat, at all. Really, they're probably incredibly harmless.
the voices have gone.
I'm not used to there being youths in my village. I'm not used to there being anyone other than old white people. I went on a walk the other week and I jumped with joy when I saw a black man. I almost felt like welcoming him and congratulating him on becoming the first black man to visit/Dear God possibly even live in my village, but I didn't want to scare him away so
smileSMILE-not forgetting the teeth- and 'Good Afternoon!' jolly jolly.
Context. My area has been under the jurisdiction of the same Tory MP for the last 27 years. It's like New Labour never happened. It's like the internet never happened. It's like capitalism is just a buzzword. We have a pub that's empty by 22.00. If you're still there at 21.30 you're going to be judged for living a life of hedonism. You will be accused of sodomising the fairy trees and scaring away the butterflies.
Context. A crazy lady (context: the man who impregnated my mother fucked her on my sofa) told me that if you see a ribbon on a tree, the fairies will visit that tree. My village is also WORLD FAMOUS amongst people who really love butterflies. re. no-one.
There's a walk in my village that crosses a railway line. Sometimes I stand on the line and wonder if tragedy will rape the village with shit-angst modernity.
but the trains only come once every couple of hours, anyway
and I've got to watch TV and shit.
and I refuse to sacrifice myself for the sake of a village with only one (potential) black resident. and a post office.
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