From the notes app.
the notes app. Land of the most random of thoughts, to do list. random numbers which i havent a clue about. its where all of my inner chaotic gremlin thoughts come to live, die, exist? i am never really know. Sometimes its long winded thoughts that come to me on some form of public transport. Other times it word vomit of a superior variety. Or even random one liners that i feel need to exist in some space outside of my mind and body. maybe I should make this into a series where every quarter or so, i do a deep dive into my notes app. because i have honestly forgotten what kind of madness i have written down. So… let us begin.
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Blue bottle boy. I dont think i would ever forget you and i wonder if everytime that I sit at that window if you would ever be seen again. maybe you were here as a figment of my imagination meant to wake up my body from years of slumber. to somehow remind it about what desire feels like. that slow drip through the veins. the flash flood of excitement. maybe i created you. willed you to life from my own imagination. tall frame, dark hair, pale skin. felt a little like i carved you from marble. powerful thighs and strong arms. and then you pulled out a beaten up black journal from your bag and my brain exploded as i watched you scribble down word after work in pencil and endless lines. So naturally, i told my best friends about you. to cement you into my memory. give you a fixed place up there. and they giggled when i talked about you. laughed as they told me that its been a while since a man has made me sit up and take notice. so then maybe I did conjure you up from the depths of my soul where desire slumbers. maybe i will see you again, in another blue bottle, another black shirt. another black journal. out of the side of my eyes with your long legs and light brown eyes.
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there really is something about cafes. the life in them. the way as people get older and more independent, cafes become our second home. the interactions between staff and customer. people buying the bare minimum to allow for time sat at one of their tables tapping away at laptops and scribbling away in notebooks. textbooks open in front of students. maybe that is a business meeting? maybe its a friendly facetime call. maybe its two friends having a coworking session or a couple of friends catching up. have they been sitting there long. her muffin is finished but she is in a zone of her own. all the ice has melted in his coffee but it is still only half drunk.
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I have found that life and nature will bloom and grow despite. and something we could all learn from. that despite the conditions it will grow.
I am fascinated by people who wear jeans in hot weather. or listen to voicemails and voice notes out loud in the train.
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today has felt like an out of the house day. the kind of day where sitting at my desk in my little room is too small and the itch starts to set in between my shoulder blades. the push to get out of the house. the urge to sit somewhere and bask in the glow of humanity happening around you.
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things to do today:
journal myself out of whatever this headspace is.
Plan out hokkaido trip
read my bible.
look through film photos.
finish writing from the notes app substack post.
plan out the rest of the week.
text kristie
organise desk
flex my agency by leaving the house.
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I want to immortalise this old man sitting next to me in a cafe i have realised that I come to quite often. I like the pasta and the silly french-ness of it all. I adore this old man and I know nothing about him. He has both a pastry and a healthy little acai bowl. he has both water and has downed a glass of carrot juice He is sat up straight in his comfortable blue tee and matching blue shoes as he shuffles his papers about. he has his wired headphones in (how chic) as he listens to a podcast? the news? he seems like a podcast man. and a podcast on the news seems like something he would certainly enjoy. i am delighted by his gold wire rimmed glasses. circular and thin and perched on the end of his notes. its neat, all of his papers. pressed. well looked after. I am sure in his working days he wore a suit and tie, ironed to perfection. I find this old man just utterly wonderful. Sorting his bills and taxes, receipts and papers in a cafe in front of a bookstore. Headphones in, world tuned out, shuffling endlessly. I am deeply captivated by this man. I wonder if hearing his story would break the spell or maybe it would add to the magic of looking at strangers going about their day.
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I think I am a high functioning depressive with autistic and ADHD tendencies.
