Explorations and Interpretations

The romantic in me hates this narrative.

I want to crawl inside my harp and let the vibrations fill every cell in my body.

Days, Weeks, A Year 

Take the knife from out’ my bed,
Another strike from my absent-minded head.
Stacking high, until I’m trapped inside
These growing piles of things to do.

And I’m tired of being tired
of being tired
of being

So move me, shake me,
Why won’t you awake me to these possibilities?
And the mist in me, is all I can see
And these phrases are taking the best of me.

And I’m tired of being tired
of being tired
of being so
Tired of being tired
of being tired
of being

So I’ll play the game and I’ll do your dance,
Still I can’t help but think that this is certain chance

And I’m tired of being tired
of being tired
of being so
Tired of being tired
of being tired
of Being. 

I wish I still thought like I did as a child. That I had that imagination. Those images.

I was just thinking about how I conceived my time in my mum’s womb when I was a little girl. I imagined myself living in a sort of one room apartment. It was my own space, where I was contented and alone. Everything was coloured a sort of reddy-brown, the colours I saw when I closed my eyes on a sunny day; warm, fleshy. The only shapes I can make out of the image now are of a little round kitchen table with chairs, the kitchen table of my Nana’s house, and two bookcases, filled with all the books I could want. And there at the kitchen table I sat and read and waited until I was ready to be born. 

They’re amazing, these mythologies we create for ourselves.  

http://www.reverbnation.com/artist/artist_songs/1551792

I sort of forget how great Sophie’s writing is until I see her, or someone else, play her songs. 

I think there’s something truly special about her music, and so tumblr, I’m adding her voice to the din.

Every single night
I endure the flight
of little wings of white-flamed
butterflies in my brain
These ideas of mine
percolate the mind
trickle down the spine
swarm the belly, swelling to a blaze
That’s when the pain comes in
Like a second skeleton
trying to fit beneath the skin
I can’t fit the feelings in
Every single night’s alight with my brain

What’d I say to her
Why’d I say it to her
what does she think of me
that I’m not what I ought to be
that I’m what I try not to be
It’s got to be somebody else’s fault
I can’t get caught
If what I am is what I am, ‘cause I does what I does
then brother, get back, ‘cause my breast’s gonna bust open
the rib is a shell and the heart is the yolk/yoke and
I just made a meal for us both the choke on

Every single night’s a fight with my brain

I just wanna feel everything

So I’m gonna try to be still now
gonna renounce the mill a little while and
if we had a double-king-sized bed 
we could move in it and I’d soon forget
that what I am is what I am, ‘cause I does what I does
and maybe I’d relax; let my breast just bust open
my heart’s made of parts of all that surround me
and that’s why the devil just can’t get around me 

Every single night’s alright, every single night’s a fight
and every single fight’s alright
with my brain. 

packt-sardines asked: Me encanta tu tumblr. Lo he encontrado de casualidad y lo que escribes me ha parecido precioso, hasta el punto de que algunas cosas me han hecho que se me salten las lágrimas. Te escribo en español porque veo que lo estudias en la Universidad de Cambridge, en Emmanuel College si no me equivoco? Estuve recientemente y me encantó (y los patitos también). Tienes mucha suerte de poder estudiar ahí...a mi me encantaría estudiar mi master en Cambridge!

Muchas gracias por tu mensaje, significa mucho para mi. A menudo pienso que lo que escribo no tiene ninguna importancia, es bueno equivocarme. Sí, estudio en Emmanuel College, y el año que viene voy a estuidar en la Universidad Complutense de Madrid. Te recomendo mucho venir a Cambridge para estudiar si puedes, es la mejor decisión que he tomado nunca.