My guide to writing is
Tap absently
It’s like a ouija
The words come
Look at them
And wonder what you are doing with your life
A pattern will emerge
But not one you particularly want to see
Or expect
Think about how you are going to monetise this spew
So you can leave data hell
Laugh about it
Click publish
And hope the next day brings clarity
The last ten days have seen research into buying a caravan, coming second in a poetry competition and winning a voucher (which I used to order the Verso Radical Diary) and a visit to the Anarchist Festival. I’ve also contributed poetry that will be published in Readable zine. And my cough has improved. I let my old colleagues in the alumni team know how I am getting on. I’ve begun a new work project involving ways to enhance my university’s applicant support. And I have created a writing portfolio on my university’s intranet to collect all my works together. I bought a handful of zines from one of my favourite distros; Vampire Hag. I’ve been trying to get over a flu that’s hung on for why too long. It’s a raspy lingerer which gets worse at night and/or in cold conditions (winter will be fun!). I’ve slept a lot. I’ve applied for a part-time art lecturer job.
Feral Youth by Nina Dunne
Often cited as the best days of our lives
I despised
The feelings of no control
Lack of respect
“What do they know?”
I know you left a hole
I cannot fill in
While I’m searching for home
Or ways to own my voice/body/soul
If again I hear
How I’m wet behind the ears
My calmness will disappear
Tense fist
Head reared
I remember the first September
When I entered a classroom
My pleas to be heard
Over behaviours absurd
Went unacknowledged
So I became silent
And watched
I fell behind
But I didn’t mind
I learnt at home
Much later
And alone
I decorated my own world
The walls greasy with words
I built armour
And tamed wolves
By myself
I am the master of my health
First published at blogs.canterbury.ac.uk/studentnews/world-mental-health-day-competition-winners
Directed to the sport centre
With no instructions, and a package to decipher
I am flustered
I don’t want to announce the guidelines
Hundreds of faces
Looking at me over desks
I remember last week
When the list of candidates was wrong
Impatient faces
I scribble changes on a spare sheet of paper
I give up looking professional
Knowing a complaint will be logged
I just try to get through the registration
Fantasising of vacation
Bonjour. I am having a wonderful time. I feel like I am in Bientôt l’été here. Everything is wide open and alienating. I went to the flea markets and bought a sun-faded musical carousel. I saw some book shops I thought you would love. And some surreal graffiti. Anarchist stickers plastered the lamppost. I found my dream home. On the wind-beaten seafront. The local chocolatier made delicious, but worryingly mishapen, tortoises. Pastisseries won my heart. I am running out of room here with my messy writing. I will see you tomorrow. Love Nina
