Tight

My shoulders are so tight and stressed I'm in a lot of pain. Sitting in LJMU's library. There is some tart listening to the same shit fucking song very loudly on her skinny ipod.
I've plugged my ears into Mark's. Mr E is comforting me now with his words of charming wisdom.
My eyes are blurry because I'm so tired, my whole body aches because I climbed up two large hills to find magic mushrooms yesterday. Only a couple were found only to be squashed and unidentiable in our pockets.

I just saw giant land snails. I loved them. I wanted to stay with them forever. You know how old lonely women have cats. I'll have fucking giant snails. GIANT!

There is so much to do and I'm totally unable to think or try to do it. Instead I have taken the advice of my mother and written a blog.

I should be writing my short story, poems, preparing my poetry presentation and making and outline of what I want to do in my univeristy project...

Poetry Presentation: Me and Baynton (who I have just spent a glorious three days with in stunning Aberstwyth) are going to be cats having a conversation. It will require acting skills and be dark humoured.

Univeristy Project: Go into a local merseyside school. Run a writing/music workshop to do with bees dying out. Get them kids aware and let them express their creative minds. (Hopefully will bw mixed with pro active fun).
NEED TO: Get a certificate saying I'm not a peaodphile.

Poems: Work on my festival poem - less cliche.
Work on dirty poem - extend that metaphor.

Short Story: Type it up and finish the fucking thing. Send into workshopping for tuesday. (re draft and submit In The Red Short Story..)

I think that's it.

Keep a level head.

Ignore the pain...for now...until the first counselling session at three.