Marjorie Razorblade Cutting In

Diary of a Lunatic

Marjorie Razorblade Is | Marjorie Razorblade | Old uns | Real Life Poetry | Moments of Clarity | Forever consigned to the 'Old Poetry File' | Last of the Love Sonnets

3rd July

I'm ill.
I've got to stop doing things I think i'm still capable of. Last night I was violently sick- i mean really really sick, that hasn't happened to me since I was a nipper...somethings really up with me, not sure if it's just an overall decline in health or because I do too much- who the fuck knows- I think a lot of its stress too- things are hideous right now- but those are really personal things I'm not going to discuss here

also bored of being by myself...just need someone to be with inside out, someone I can trust, someone I can talk an unparallelled amount of horeshit with- but still someone georgeous intelligent and maybe even dynamite in bed...(though I have all but forgotten what bits go where and how- it's too embarassing to even contemplate)

...but I won't hold my breath- I might die.

Shit, I need to look after myself- no other fuckers going to do it for me...


18th June 2005

Celebrated my graduation last night with some good friends. Started at 2pm on champagne finished on guinness.
*Bleurgh* I'm not drinking anymore- my body just can't take it these days. I say these days but it's my first real drinking 'session' in a long long time.

My time 'alone' has been anything but in the last week. I'm feeling slightly despondent at the moment, perhaps its because I have a lot of thinking to do and lots of time and space to do it in, i'm not used to thinking on such a large scale. It's disconcerting. My personal life has taken a dramatic turn, and i'm having difficulty turning with it, perhaps good things will come of such a big change. I don't know. All I do know is today my head is enormous. Goddam you booze! *shakes fist at self* So from today onwards: I'm giving up drink, and pining! Horray for change!

17th April 2005

Ooh I'm so bloody fickle. If only I knew what was going on in my head most of the time, things would appear to be much easier than they actually are.

I appear to be going through a bit of a mess at present...oh I feel fine, quite happy inside really (once i've sorted some hideous shit out), but something odd is happening... I think of things- and they happen.

Is this some form of preminitory response which I have developed or am I living in a weird world of co-incidence?

I'm talking shite! Perhaps...

Still refusing to write poetry. it's trying to leak out though...too many websites are cropping up which are sidetracking me, I should still be writing. I haven't been published in a year, and keep ignoring the emails i'm getting from poetry 'people'. Two years ago I was nominated to stand in the US poetry Slam. Now I couldn't give a flying fuck at a rolling donut about it........Kevin Coyne would be quite pissed off i'm fairly certain, but perhaps he would understand why I can't- also still can't listen to a single one of his records. Its awful, I feel like i've lost an old friend- it's ridiculous of course and my own friends would agree.

I graduate next month and get to wear my silly hat on stage - what will I do next? I'm not sure. Some doors have closed behind me- but will any more open..................?

28th March 2005

No Poetry here...

Today I came to the conclusion that I don't want to write poetry anymore... I've written a lot over the years and been published a few times. However, now I see it as a self effacing manner of preaching which belongs right up there with the Bible and everything else we've been conditioned to read, digest and argue about.

My poetry itself has become more refined, instead of talking about things which people used to find amusing it's now taken a sinister turn and doesn't rhyme, which always struck me as clever but never the sort of thing i'd find myself doing, instead preferring to fry my head in onions than sound trite and articulate.

I've also recently come to the conclusion, that despite my best efforts, people refuse to realise that althought they may have chosen the path which is right for them, (good for them I say, their decision after all) they seem to prefer to walk down it on their hands shouting incoherently upside down in a language no-one understands or has a phrase book of (which then annoys me as they take up valuable floor space to everyone else deciding which way they want to go.) Its a bit like going to Uzbekistan and speaking Glaswegian in a Spanish accent. I've tried to stand in the side lines and watch the world whizz crazily around me, but sometimes you have to stop and say, 'i'm not standing around listening to this anymore.'

I'm jaded by the human race. The intricasies of understanding and knowledge seem to be lost in the quagmire of stupidity never to resurface.

We look to religion for the answers, we look to politicians for answers, we find none. We are all lost in a pitless void rambling about in the darkness of our own minds, trying to find people who understand us. If you can count, read and write, you're more special than you think, you're one in a million people who cannot. Education is placed on standby and we spend our lives worrying mindlessly about jobs we don't care for and buying items of furniture we don't need for houses we can't afford to own. Stop me if I sound like Tyler Durden at any point.

The horrible truth dawns on a new day when you wake up and realise just how insane everything is...and just how the wonderful turns of phrase poetry can conjour just don't soften the blow anymore.

And that is why....... I will not write poetry again.

Marjorie Razorblade