Monday, 29 March 2010

the intrepid explorer does north africa - alone. cripes

ok, Im here in north africa trying to pretend that its ok that Im by myself... and in some respects it is. One problem is that this darned computer has an unusual system which im finding very difficult to follow... so no exclamation marks or most other forms of expression, are going to happen from me while Im here. In fact this thing is not great.

Anyway we do the best with what we have, aint that right Mr President of the United States who said that... so today its been hot. I caught the sun. Its a good job cos when I get back I intend to get my hair extensions popped back in my hair, the plan is I should have worked my ass off while here) so I guess Il be ready for some sex and flirtation. Il deserve it - this lack of intimate contact and Im not refering to sex, makes me grateful for things such as friends. Plus naturally the sun is an aphrodisiac, altho saying that I still stand by what I said about there being no action while Im here.
So last night I was thinking - its a new moon, a new season, the clocks have changed, in a few days I can say that my book will be published *next month* the star is in place of inverted commas, by the way.... and , my second period in a month has come now Im away. This might usually be annoying, but I see it as a fresh start all round... Im shedding the old, in all respects the old has gone - old season, old time, so you know what that means...

Viva the new... bring in the new.... Im going to invite new into my life when I get home.

Id put exclamation marks all over this, but I cant, becaue it seems I am only able to use commas, and fullstops.

BUT - I can use capital letters, so in place of exclamation marks, you get a capital lettered - HUMPH

I just blew you a kiss, did you catch it..... question mark. quick. geddit, its hovering just above your nose.
there ya go.................

Thursday, 25 March 2010

A New Era.... ( thank f**k for that! )

Ahhh, finally it's over. I can relax. I know where I stand. The final stone has been cast. Blue and I are over and I know we ain't going back. I know this because we've both come as close to potential relapse madness as we could get, without actually picking up a drug or drink.
Our relationship went emotionally catastrophically wrong and there was no retrieving it.
I'm glad that an official line has been drawn and Blue was the one to dictate it. That's better for me. I don't trust myself to stick to something like a breakup, I'm too weak, unless someone has actually done something crap to me.

You see, it hadn't been properly finished before today, and you know something? I feel a weight has been lifted now. I know where I am with it and I'm all right with the result. I'm no longer sad or angry. I'm not really thinking about it. We're through and that's that. This will be the final time cos if we were to get back together and we broke up again there is a more than likely chance that one or both of us will relapse and we both understand that.

Sanity and sobriety before all things. Luckily for me, Blue is wiser than I am and unlike me who is more needy than he, he has ended it just in time.
It makes me question the strength of my sobriety knowing that things were so, so damaged and being willing to continue. Perhaps I arrogantly thought that I wouldn't relapse. How stupid. How very, very stupid. Or perhaps in the name of love, in the hope of a dream becoming real, I was prepared to risk my health. How stupid. How very, very stupid.

Tomorrow is the start of something new and that means I no longer need to stress about someone else's life impacting on mine. Of course it's sad that it didn't work. We had an electric connection and he's a really good person,but it didn't work. It happens.
He was not who I am meant to be with.
I'm not going to concern myself with relationships for a while, they're too complex for my complicated neuroses. At least I wont' bother until after I've finished this second book. I'm going away this weekend, alone - yikes! And I have a very specific plan for my second book while I'm away and that plan needs executing. World domination doesn't come easy you know dharlings!

night night... xx

Thursday, 18 March 2010

I'd rather eat my own poop...

I’m really fucking down. There. I said it. I hate saying it – my pride would hate for Blue to see this. Silly for me to say it really, since he no longer reads this blog. I’m very open with my feelings but the thing is, if Blue was to read this, I’d feel more vulnerable than I already do. I’ve realised (as I've said before, I know, I know!) that actually we are not right for each other - now. He IS the right man for me, our connection is undeniable – but the situation he’s in, in his life right now is not what I want in mine. It’s tough, but neither of us are 20 years old and I must think more sensibly than if I was. I must think about my future if I want to be happy. Not thinking about my future got me into the pickle I lived in for so many years. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did used to think about my future for all of 2 minutes but it would freak me out so much, because my life was such a fucking mess, that I’d get wasted to forget. Today I don’t get wasted, I sometimes wish I could, but today I live in stark fucking reality every second of every fucking day and some times stark reality stinks. I was all right when I was with my Blue, when I’d ignore the reality of his homelessness, lack of job, his vague direction, lack of security, and I’d keep plodding on cos ‘ I love him’...
Well maybe it just isn’t enough. Even if I was wealthy and we had a house , he’d still feel crap about himself because he’s still st the beginning of his recovery process and he’s still unsure of himself and his own potential. I don’t want to carry someone, I can’t afford to.
I hope to have an equal relationship - a partnership, equality. I don’t want some thing where one person feels inadequate or hopeless.
Fuck it’s annoying. Being a fucking grown up is shit sometimes... but I must have faith that I will be able to let go of Blue, this time without anger or pain.
Right now I feel pain.
Last time Blue and I talked was on Saturday night. I was a little hysterical and he was quite cold. He’d moved his stuff by then. We’d arranged to meet on Sunday, and early Sunday morning I texted him to suggest that we cancel.

“I don’t think it’s good that I crawl towards someone who has hurt me in this same manner a number of times before. Please don’t text back. Thanks." Sent.

He didn’t. That's good, my head's up my arse. And since Sunday, we have had no contact.

One positive that has come from this is I’ve been working like a cart horse on UnHooked. I’m getting back in the flow and preparing myself for an onslaught of obsessive writing when I go away, alone.

A couple of people at work have suggested that I go and meet someone else. Just like that! To be honest I’d rather eat my own poop than get involved with someone right now. Actually, maybe not - but you know what I mean. I don’t feel like smiling at, chatting to or kissing another man..... for today ,anyway.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, though eh?

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

ViVa Swearing !

I’m sitting here wondering what I should say to you, tonight... I’m feeling cagey cos I don't want to come out with a load of drivel about my lost relationship, and god forbid my feelings towards the loss. Instead, I think I will keep a semi-dignified silence, talk about other things, and instead sprinkle this post liberally with profanities. Swearing always help eases pent-up feelings, right!? I love it!

Swearing, even when referring to something positive, to me, often implies a sense of tension. That tension may be based in anger, or it may be coming from extreme excitement which probably needs release. And banging some swear words in ones expression of that excitement may help expel it. Plus it helps whomever you're talking to understand very clearly how the fuck you're feeling and what the hell you mean.
For example, when I say ‘I'm so fucking excited about going on holiday’ (in less than two weeks! yaay!) – you can gleam from that that yes, indeed, I am happy about going away. For two reasons:

1. I’m shattered and desperately want a week off work, 'cos I’m basically shagged at the end of each day and I want some time away from that bloody office phone.

2. You also get that I’m looking forward to going on holiday BUT since I was meant to be going with my boyfriend who no longer exists as part of my life – I am actually hacked off that the original plans have changed and now I’m going alone.
So yes, I’m fucking excited. I'm looking forward to it. It’s going to be gorgeous. I’m going to do shit-loads of writing and snoozing in the sun – but that wasn’t the plan when I booked it now was it!? it. was. not.
So, I will avoid talking about my feelings towards the said ex-fella and tell you instead that I am no longer feeling as though my life has been placed in a sanitary bin, never to be seen again. Nope, I’m on the up, I believe; allegedly, apparently, err, clearly dharling! It's obvious right I'm doing loads better!? Yes. you. are. Clare...
thank you.

hmm....I did an excessive amount of wallowing in my pit for the sum total of about 3 days, then finally one evening (sunday night) I slept. I slept, and the next day I awoke to spring. A new beginning.
Outside it’s been lovely here, and inside it ain’t been too bad either.
Spring is on its way, and with the new season I intend to breathe new energy into my usually drivel-filled existence.
She says.

Drivel... drivel... poo poo...

Friday, 12 March 2010

dwarves, fear & fences.

Blue and I are over.
I’m currently sitting on a fence called ‘Fear’. I’m perched on the top admiring the view to my right which is pretty and full of dwarves in bright coloured clothes, Morris dancing. The view to my left is grey, and in a corner I’m sure I can see what appears to be a figure scooped over, holding themselves shaking.
As I look closer my heart is racing, I can’t tell if the person quivering is cold or afraid. My heart sinks. I reluctantly pull my attention away and look back into the sunny right side where I can spot two dwarves who are observing the dancers. They are happy; smooching and holding hands. My heart steadies. I feel calmer.

As I peer back towards the grey side I realise that the person is crying. Which way should I jump? The left side looks so familiar. I’d be comfortable there; grey corners alone are places I know well. As I manoeuvre myself to clamber down off the Fear wall and join the figure in the corner, my eyes fill with tears. I begin to hoist myself down, slowly to where I belong and I can’t help but allow myself one last glimmer into the right side; the bright side. And you know what I see? The dwarves are beckoning me. They’re friendly. Why? I don’t know them. I hear something - voices. They’re calling me. Why? They’re asking me to join them. Why?

I don’t have the right attire. I’m wearing black. I’m not smiling. They are...
They say it doesn’t matter. Surely it does, doesn't it? I stop myself from dropping into the grey area wondering if I’d be able to make it back up. As I strain to hoist myself back over the top of the wall and to the other side, the dwarves run towards me to help. They can’t quite reach. I daren’t jump. I don’t know what will happen next.
I don’t have any idea. I’m scared. Will I be able to fit into their world? Should I even try..? “No, no don’t do it! Go back to the grey corner“ A voice in my head shouts at me.
And then I hear a chorus of dwarves: “You’ll be all right. Just take the risk and jump. You're welcome here.” – so I jump.

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

March 10th, 2010 : 21.30hrs.

Dinner tonight? Minestrone soup, and apple and banana. The joys of being home alone. Eat what I want, when I want, how I want.

What am I wearing? Black leggings and tight bright yellow lycra vest.

Make-up? None.

Foot wear? Bright orange nail polish.

My feelings? Exhausted, slightly anxious.

My thoughts? Tired, bored of my life, fed-up.

Plans for the evening? Bath, and bed; reading Lolita – amazing writing. Dazzling book.

What have I done today? Answered the damn phone at work – constantly. Stressed about Blue and I. Stressed about my future. Been aware of my recent doubts about everything; life, writing, stability, relationships - both with my friends and with Blue. Daddy’s good though. He’s happy. Thank God.

I've been fantasising about? Living an easy life. Being a successful writer. Earning a good income. Living in the countryside just outside Bath in a stone house surrounded by modern interiors and a healthy portion of antiques. Having a creative partner who is interesting and interested who adores me and I him. He is financially settled and is far more advanced in emotional balance than I am. I wish this could be Blue. He is the first half of the former statement – but the second part is not there yet.

My plans for the next few days? Work, sleep and then on Friday, I intend to go to Yorkshire for the weekend.

What’s happening with Boy Blue? He is looking to move out as soon as possible. We’re a bit miserable. I'm finding things hard to cope with. My guess is that it will be in approximately a week. This I find upsetting. Not necessarily because we’re no longer going to be living in the same place –although I wish that our relationship was different and we could. But the reason I find this so upsetting is because yet again there is a lack of stability in our union, therefore, my life. This is draining. I lived with constant change for years before I ever met Blue and then things settled as I began to change, but now I’m in this relationship the whole ‘Things will be OK when such-and-such happens ’ routine, is back.

What am I going to do about this? Fuck knows. Do nothing, that’s what I’m going to do – nothing.

And why will I do nothing, you ask ..? Because I don't know what to do.

"When in doubt - don't." Alan Lane WCS c1996.

Monday, 8 March 2010

Open your Eyes or Kiss my ass

My life as a hooker was shit, a strain, miserable and yet there were times that were OK. It’s a good thing that sometimes I felt all right – otherwise I’d had flung myself off the nearest tall building. My over-riding emotion during those years was turmoil and disgust; hatred towards the punters but mainly towards myself. Yet sometimes, fucking a stranger felt tolerable. The guys weren’t so bad,some were good looking, and others were sweet even. And I certainly saw sides of life that I normally wouldn’t have.
Surely it's a good thing that I actually thought that some of the clients were all right and that they all didn't physically repulse me?
Otherwise, I’d have laid down in the middle of a train track waiting for a train to squish me.
But as I said, my overriding emotions during those years were turmoil and disgust; hatred towards the punters (often, the alright ones too) but mainly towards myself.

Do you think I didn't deserve to have a break during that time? Even while with a client? Did I not deserve to feel one hours reprieve for every 10 hours discomfort? Of course I fucking did! Just because I say that I ‘hate my past’ then go and describe a moment of humour or, god forbid, enjoyment, especially when referring to prostitution, in my book that doesn't mean that I think it was OK. It was not OK. What do you want? You want me bleed with sorrow each time I mention something lightheartedly?

Sometimes, today, I want to whip myself for allowing myself to have sex for money – yet other times I’m blasé and matter of fact.

Can you not understand this?
Can you understand that I am not a one dimensional robot and because I am a mere human, I am not solidly consistent with regards to surface feelings about many subjects in life ?

Do you understand that there are many factors that make someone feel one way about something during one minute, then perhaps feel differently the next?
Do you understand that sometimes I want to cry with shame about the person who I became when I was a hooker and used drugs, yet other times I find the ridiculousness of some of my past situations amusing?

I had a debate with a woman recently who has read Hooked. She also seemed intent on grilling me about minute detail in the book clearly trying to guage how genuine I am about my repulsion towards people such as Belle du Jour who have so irresponsibly tried to ‘glamourise’ prostitution.

Initially, I took the grilling well. In fact throughout I kept my cool. I was a little puzzled by her intent, but I took it well. Then after a few days anger began to bubble which is unlike me. I usually feel it instantly.
And now, I’ve realised and I have decided that I did not and will not be justifying my existence, past or present to anyone, based on someone’s inability to understand my story as a whole. To break 80,000 words into odd sentences that seemed to stand out as being ‘flippant and even imply that you may have enjoyed your experiences’ is to miss the whole bloody point of the whole friggin book. Literally, there were about three sentence she questioned me on. Now to miss the sentiment of the whole text, suggests one of a couple of things. The woman is highly intelligent and I'd be amazed if she didn't get it. She was either playing devil's advocate (she's a medie-ite) or she is :

1. Blinkered and a little naive.
2. Lacking in understanding. Completely unaware that a person who is/has been in a place of having to survive because they are emotionally fucked-up will never be consistent about their feelings towards the very thing that is/was destroying them. They must get through their situation the best way possible therefore feelings fluctuate within a given situation.

But do you understand that the person's emotions CAN remain consistent with their disdain towards the thing that is destroying them, as a whole?

What I mean is, I have never believed that prostitution is alright. It is worse than that – I firmly believe that it is hugely emotionally damaging and erosive for the women involved. I have never, will never and could never feel anything other than this – and those feelings I am consistent with.
Nothing, and no one can change that.

When one has to survive in a situation despite it being self inflicted, a person will often create many opposing attitudes as coping mechanisms to be used in different situations. But honestly, the fact that I am writing this post pisses me off, 'cos I fear that I may end up being coerced into explaining this kind of thing a fair bit in my near future – or maybe not.

I eagerly want to be understood but I must accept that there are things that other people can never understand, and although I can try and help them, ultimately they must make up their own mind. I am not their mother or babysitter. All the evidence will be there in print.

But, my friends, a tip: If you don’t understand my feelings about whoring after you've read Hooked then I won’t be justifying my existence to you or you or you, or you for that matter. Not when I have already given you a piece of my soul on every page of the book - and after that there will not be a pound of flesh to be had.

Saturday, 6 March 2010

my current mood...

this is the stuff I was brought up on...

Thursday, 4 March 2010

" I'm Clare, and I'm an obsessive compulsive..."

I found it difficult to sleep last night. My Boy Blue started snoring so I quietly raised my hand towards his nose ready to lightly pinch it. What was his response? What would you do if someone was holding your nose to stop you sounding like a hungry piglet? Would you flick their hand away from your snout? Would you turn over? I think I’d turn over. Would you wake up suddenly and ask what was happening?
Well, Blue did none of the above. Instead, he kissed my hand. Awww, bless him! It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. At least the cutest thing I’ve seen for a few days. You needed to have been there, maybe, but my heart instantly melted when he did this so naturally – especially when he was fast asleep. So I moved my hand away and let him continue snoring and watched how comfy he looked.

I feel that I haven’t been doing as much as I could recently. I’m bloody obsessive, it’s draining at times. Obsessive /compulsive behaviour has wracked my life and just cos I've stopped drinking and sniffing - it doesn't go away! It just manifests itself in different ways. If I’m not getting emails and calls from media –types dharling, I feel that I’m being a lazy toe-rag, and I start hating myself for it. Silly, I know. My step-ma keeps telling me to relax.
“You’ve got 60-odd days until your book is published, Clare. Be patient and enjoy this time” she tells me. Enjoy it? Doing what exactly? Waiting? I feel I need to have my fingers in numerous pies in order to feel as though I am being a productive bunny.
You see, the thing is, things are kinda happening. I just can’t see them.

By the way: Blue and I are going on holiday in three weeks... Morocco, for a 7 day break. Can’t wait! Everything is good with us again – I know it may seem that our relationship is very up and down, but perhaps it’s not so much. The thing is: I mouth off about the smallest thing, here, when it strikes and I don’t tell you about how glorious it is all the rest of the time. I’m a bloody drama queen sometimes and instead of running to the hills, which is my usual style when the wind changes, I moan and feel anxious, convinced that everything is about to collapse around my feet, only to discover that it doesn’t.
God, when will I gain more confidence in people and in my relationships? That, my friends is the million dollar question.

Monday, 1 March 2010

You snooze you lose ?!

Hello amigos – I seem incapable of writing this bloody second book. I’m officially in a block and unable to write a single bloody word. I’ve heard of this before and previously I’ve scoffed at the idea that a writer cannot write for a designated period of time. I’ve always thought the said writer is being a drama queen and seeking sympathy for bugger all good reason.
Why call themselves ‘a writer,’ if they cannot write – even for a while. It’s not as though they’ve suddenly become physically unable to use a pen or type on a laptop.
You see, the problem with me having such dogmatic views on some things is this: I am currently eating my own words; and unlike Winston Churchill when eating his own words which apparently never gave him indigestion – Me? Well, I’m sick to my stomach. I’m worried and anxious about my inability to write a darn word of UnHooked.

What the hell is this about??
I feel as though I need to whisk myself off to a deserted place far away from Blue and anyone else that I know, so I can work through the night, on this dastardly book. Otherwise, I may never finish it.
The days of Hooked are well gone. The surge of energy and the drive I had while writing that has dissipated. A distant memory. Now, writing 2000 damn words feels such a huge task that my fear is preventing me from writing a single sodding word.
Fuck, shit, bollocks.

My worry about this then infiltrates into everything; primarily my relationship with Blue. I need to get this effing book written in order to feel as though I am really creating some foundations for me to work off for my future. I need funds, dough, security, consistency.
There are no guarantees with Blue. You may argue that there are none with anyone in life, but there are some things one can be certain of, often, with their partner. For example: their work/career prospects/ ability to earn. Their ability to be responsible; their drive, loyalty, their ability to commit to people/ projects, their ability to help you create the lifestyle you desire, the future you crave, and yes, I do want a certain lifestyle – that’s no crime. And yes, the lifestyle I want requires money. Sue me! Not zillions of $$ – just money.
And with Blue, sadly, I just don’t know if these things can happen... I have no solid evidence that they can happen with him, and sometimes this bothers me. I am gambling my future hopes with no clear return. It’s weird, but maybe not so weird if I live for today and park the future...
But sometimes I get the feeling that for me to achieve the life I want (with Blue) I would have to create the majority of the income myself - and to be truthful that was never in my life plan. I know plans change, but so far, Blue and I don’t really have any joint plans (his orchestration, not mine.) And regardless, that would not change the fact that I‘d like to be ‘looked after’ - in the traditional sense; I’m a traditional lassie, me. But I’m really not sure if Blue can give me this -he wants to - he’s just not sure of himself and his abilities yet. BUT, he does remind me that we’ve only been together 7 months.
The thing is, this traditional lass moves fast; often very fast. I don’t often wait for things.
Not when I really, really, really want them - and a comfortable and secure future, of course with a man I love is something I really, really, really want.
So .... which principle do you live your life by?
‘You snooze, you lose’ OR ‘Patience is a virtue.’

Even while I’m writing this: the latter just doesn’t sit comfortably with me and something deep in my bones tells me that My Blue will follow the former, and not realise, until after the event.
That would be sad; for both of us. But there is time. I have allocated an amount of time in my mind before I seriously start thinking things through about where I’m heading in the bigger picture.