- There’s been an unusual bout of good weather lately – turn on the news and you’ll hear the presenters waxing lyrical about the sunshine. At this time everyone becomes a Romantic poet or a sun worshipper. Sometimes, the two aren’t really distinguishable. And of course, I’m indoors, not because of illness or work but because I’m undergoing a sort of self-inflicted cabin fever, wherein I lie in bed, or stare fruitlessly out my window at the big pastel blue canvas of the sky, wanting to be outside but not wanting to be there at all.
- May is an important month in the school calendar here: it’s the month you graduate secondary school, where college students finish up the term, and primary school kids are let out for the summer. Seeing others sit their Leaving Cert exams has triggered memories of being in secondary this time last year and finally graduating. It is painful, I think, to sever yourself from a place that has five years of you. I don’t stop mulling over it. In the first month of college, the pain was okay. Come the second, third, fourth months, it grew acute, like a nail twisting in my side. Here I was, a 16 year old girl on a campus of 32,000. Yet I felt at my most alone.
- Forget about grades. They were on a slippery enough slope. I couldn’t be arsed to hand in essays or do projects. I skipped classes religiously (a carry-over from school). Snapchat, Instagram and Facebook were loyal friends. I checked them with all the regularity of an army commander. I looked at friends who had moved on and were having an absolute riot at their new college. I underlined my loneliness with negligence towards my body. I cried about death, about the fact of my non-existence, and was shaken with unmitigated fear. God, if there’s a place lower than rock bottom then I must have fallen past it.
- It was only in the second semester that I started making an effort with coursework. And earlier this month I cleared the hurdles of one English project, one presentation of said project, an oral exam, two slide tests and seven written exams. Now first year is over. I turn eighteen in November and yesterday, in a paroxysm of boredom or fatigue or whatever the fuck decided to take hold of me, I cut my hair off.
late in the evening
I love this new style: it’s easy to manage and this way I can grow my natural hair out. I’m keen on having a Julie Adenuga-esque look.
Plus I’ve got so much time on my hands now! Though I’m resigned to the house (catching up on sleep, etc, etc) I don’t intend to be like this all summer. I’m writing more and I’m trying to teach myself piano. There’s a new dance studio that’s been set up in Dublin city which is super diverse and cheap too, and I’m on the quest for a job.
But gloing up requires breaks, in which I’ve non-stop been listening to Chance the Rapper’s new record Coloring Book. It’s for sure a blessing that fell in my lap.
I’m still bumping Lemonade (who isn’t???) and I’m so impressed by its visuals, by its intertextuality – there are layers and layers and layers of references which I’m unpicking through Genius annotations.
a mishmash of other songs i’ve been listening to recently:
1.Cake – @Peace
2.I Want to Thank You – Alicia Myers
3.Switch Lanes – Tkay Maidza
4.Some Other Place – Arcade Fire
5.Lite Spots – Kaytranada
6.VYZEE – SOPHIE
7.Crumbler – Jungle
8.Change – Le1f
9.Sapeleme – Staff Paulo ft. Gaya Beat
10.Blue Blood – Foals
11.The Steady Song – Republic of Loose
12.Heaven – Emeli Sandé
13.Fade – Kanye
speaking of Kanye, his track Ultralight Beam alone lowkey almost turned me into a Christian. I mean he can’t sing for shit, but A+ effort. maybe he can take lessons from this guy.
but I’m thinking now to this paragraph I wrote in my journal a few months back, about finding the sublime and the perfect in music and other things (great segue). after listening to Tyler’s aptly named PERFECT, I laid down on the floor and replayed the song over and over and over. and I decided that PERFECT must be a philosophical orgasm (clumsy as my words are) bc the spacey bit at the end is like a conversation with a god, maybe Krishna. his replies to me are songs that communicate the entirety of the universe. probably everything circling it too. and i was just lying there cooking up all this shit in my head. like a dam had very suddenly burst in me and i was trying to net all the water i could and i was trying to figure the water out, its elements, the forces behind it. i said out loud, “if you ever said this to anyone they’d call you the men in white.” the song kept ricocheting up in there. so i let it, you see.