This is a line from a Jodi Marten song.
I got an organic chicken yesterday to bring home for dinner. We were meant to have dinner together followed by a massage. I was ravenous so I ate a bit.
Coco, our flatmate - studying full time (like, 14 hours a day) at NIDA came home! and cooked spag bol wihth her boyfriend. Amazed!
Anna got home and we all sat aroudn the table eating, like some sort of funcitonal household.
Anna left the table early - allegedly to prime some canvases, and then the phone rang. Coc answered and said it sounded french. I didn't wnat to know who it was, didn't know how to speak to her mum, or to the head f the head called.
L:ooked for anna in the studio. Rang her mobile. She answered tipsily from the coop office. Said there's a phoen call for you form france, I'm not answering it.
So no dinner, no massage.
I dunno if anyone else ate the chicken. I've had stomach cramps and diarrhooea today.
it could be psychosomatic. My stomach has been leaping and twisting and clenching for two weeks.
I'm stupidly, masochistically on her computer. Papers are strewn everywhere with screeds of loving lusting words to someone else or from someone else. In french, written with her left hand.
this hurts so much I roared spontaneously. A hoarse animal bellow. this pain is so fucking big I can't believe it. I can't bear to feel it. Like Kath said - i just let little bits seep out every now and then. hot fast baby sobs, silent slow sobs, the odd yelp.
Note to self: don't use her computer anymore
The Predator and the Jokester
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