pretentiousness rating: 3 barrels of oak-smoked decade-aged ennui. we’re livin the dream.
hello! it’s been a month!
night’s creeping in at the mo; i’m sitting by my window tryin to prop my eyes open long enough to write this.
-somehow it is late september, & late september is a good time to be in norwich. jo & i’s contra mundum month of grilled peaches & rainy days is now behind us; lucy, will & mantas have moved in. NOIRWICH flyers & shouty notices jostle for space on the pinboard, the “meat drawer” is leaking, no snacks are safe, & bathroom access may be determined only through ritual combat. i am sleep-deprived from reading francis bacon til two a.m, & living off oreos & leftover vegan wok takeout, & i have spent a disgusting amount of money in antiquarian bookshops, & i’m happy.
-this month is like one long, languid golden hour. it’s scarf weather but it isn’t coat weather. the chill in the air is nice & friendly & smells like a deep dark dreamy autumn ahead of us. there’s glossy conkers scattered all over the paths of the avenues, & pink leviathans of cloud when the sun sets, & stars scattered recklessly all over the night with no care for good taste.
-our darling spidery victorian house is becoming slowly more ours. i’ve ordered some pre-raphaelite art posters & we’re going to have a louche little housewarming party with our favourites & a gloomy jazz playlist. i just strung fairy lights all over my room; jo keeps moaning about being cold & then nicking my blankets; lucy’s room is a cave of yogurt pots & history books. as for will, i have initiated a prank war by filling the lining of his peacoat with broccoli.
-we also had a rather hairy saturday a fortnight back. the hairiness began at mr postles’ apothecary, which is a gorgeous early-victorian style bar with antique mirrors & swoony jazz music & deeply recessed leather seats, deserted & dimly glamorous when we went in. the nordic giant at the bar put dry ice in a cup with a silent flourish, & plumes & billows of white smoke slid out of it to trail across the polished walnut surface. cocktails were consumed- cocktails ranging from something involving blowtorched cinnamon & apple vodka to the virulently blue screwball i started out with. we got very plastered & staggered off to gonzo’s, identifiable by one battered, chunky neon sign. you went through a long thin corridor to get to it; it was a cosy, battered space w/ sofas & all sorts of random posters & pictures overlapping each other on the walls & glistening hangings on the backs of chairs, cascades of gold sequins. that bit’s all rather a kaleidoscopic blur, but it was followed by a rather lynchian sequence at a blue-lit indian resturant & a disgraced totter back to maison edric (during which i went into the deserted graveyard at st giles & flopped down onto the grass to jo’s long-suffering sigh). i ended up alone at midnight on the black expanse of the uea broad, drunk-texting lucy: i feel somewhat doolally & i’m broke again & have you missed me & BUNNIES! & luuuuuuuuuuuucy i’m bored taaaaalk to me gosh darn it
-lucy is being sensible & saving her money. jo & i? pah! my favourite unnecessary purchase of the past month is a faux leather backpack with black demon wings. also i now own william blake docs, which is really all i ever wanted out of life. i’m waiting on a velvet blazer in the post, alongside a shit-ton of books & a straight-up black lace fan. i also really want some creepers & the entire collection of beauty in decay books, but i’m trying to restrain myself at least til thursday.
-i’m reading a lot of different stuff at the moment- anna karenina, paradise lost, special topics in calamity physics, some pushkin, & i want to write about them all but my brain feels all gummed up. i think that’s mostly a sign that i need more than five hours knockout time tonight. i’m gonna try & be back in a few days with a post in re: the folding star.
-jo & i have had an enormous amount of fun with movie nights. we take it in turns; her recent suggestions have included paprika, millennium actress, moonrise kingdom, loving vincent, the grand budapest hotel, & heathers. mine have been crimson peak, jane eyre, only lovers left alive, bright star, & (next up) a girl walks home alone at night. all stuff i want to write about. all stuff i’ve been too busy working, or hanging out with people, or ringing up uea to sort out admin bullshit, to do. hopefully that’ll change now.
-uh, wow, this is pretty much just straight blathering. i should post this bullshit & go read some erasmus or something.