Ruby Stark

I should have sent Matte this Sunset Rubdown line: “I am dreaming of places where lovers have wings.”

“And if I fall into the drink, I will say your name before I sink.”

Can’t stop thinking about Saturday, where Henry spends a day of cosy fear which ends as it began, with him making love to his wife.

Can’t figure out if my scaredness of boysex is my intersex, the difficulty of intercourse or a misplacement on the Kinsey scale.

Had a shower and put on a nightshirt for when my boss arrives. Feel fucking horny sitting on my bed, bare legs crossed, underwear showing.

The other day, I listened to I’m Wide Awake, it’s Morning by Bright Eyes and it threw me back to that last month with Matte before I died.

“They will be cleared!”

I kissed my boss last night at a banging techno club. A bunch of colleagues saw. I am discombobulated.

I haven’t had a second to myself for forty-eight hours. Life is speeding just like I want.

I don’t want to go home, or stay at work, or go out. When I woke, my first thought was: I have nothing in Berlin to live for.

Out last night there was a moment, sitting on a stool, alcohol creeping up my back, people clustered close, everything around me.

Stopped off in Kreuzberg for beer and good pizza on the way back from Capture the Flag with Malt. Amazing to live in the thick of it.

Sometimes, I see the veins on the backs of my hands and they just make me think of blood being drawn by a nurse.

Thinking about a new music project that is all clangs and dings and delicate melodies and quiet, scared singing and real real real lyrics.

Resurrecting my old secret blogs for archival and reference. Becoming more and more obsessed with documenting life.

I feel so happy. Everything is possible.

Watching The Sopranos. Tony is in hospital. I can’t stop thinking about when I died. It hurts so much.

“I’m forty-six years old. Who am I? Where am I going?” – The Sopranos.

Spending the day at home. I’m not going to film night at the queer bar because I’ve sat there alone twice now. I’m questioning Berlin again.

“Is it light where you are, yet?” – The Sopranos

Last night I had pasta with pesto, and the taste put me back in my first year of University, on my corridor, supplementing my terrible diet.

“You still cross my mind from time to time. And I mostly smile.” – La Dispute

Right, I’m heading to Friedrichshain to smoke cigarettes, listen to emo and walk around in the cold.

Can’t sleep for thinking about Cat and going to previousnortherncity to see her. Listening to RadioLab and thinking about another cigarette.

24 hours later. Discussing journeys. Head about to explode. Major fucking imbroglio.

Things changed today. I’ve started hoping every new mail ding is Cat, and giggling like a schoolgirl when I read her letters.

I hadn’t realised, but I’ve so missed the community of a smaller city. I can imagine dropping in on people, doing things in my local area.

Listening to a lone-trumpet plus mournful backing vocals song by Mimas and looking out of my apartment window: http://twitpic.com/yxrd0

Nearly broke down in the supermarket while buying the delicious ginger and orange marmalade Matte and I had in Cornwall.

At my Mum’s. Just watched The Fugitive. Julianne Moore drives me wild with desire.