Magdalene's journals

. i r in syria, please leave a message after the beep. or lurk my livejrnal. i am not so well

What does my bedroom say about me?



here is a large version
(you'll notice some weird, personal things. like a picture someone amazing did of me when I was little. I am supposed to be holding hands with Jesus. and a genuine post world war two, wizard of oz poster. the woman in the poster was actually a very elderly lady i met on the train. who became a penpal of sorts. she worked in buckingham palace. she once sent me a small note with the buckingham palace letter head, stapled to it was that poster. i still have it the letter, too)

I tag annaliese, eastyn, farhaad, a mr kelly lind, sakura & swindle.

in the words of Frasier: "im siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiickkkk"
andandand surgeons (even syrian ones apparently) dont give sick girls boob jobs

must pop more lemsip and vit C and get well quick!



the boybot was watching sopranos today and there was a sex scene
am i a prude for thinking that sex scenes are only okay in art and porn?

You can stare at a photograph of a landscape for hours and even vividly picture yourself cutting through it in a sprint. The long grass may hit your face but you don’t stop running because you want to escape, because you want to hide, because there is something you’re looking for and perhaps if you run far enough you will find it. And slowly as you run, perhaps you might revert into a child-like state and embrace that more Dionysian spirit inside and more importantly you are becoming truly free. Or, conversely you may stand before a landscape and explore it with your eyes, only to realize that it is really quite desolate and lonely… and that there is no need to run through it – or even approach it, because it is already rather familiar.

You are quite alright where you are: just looking. You're just looking.

sammich good. menstrual bleeding baad.

while there is a lot going on, it is probably not worth talking about.

the human-kitten-boy-robot has drifted off to sleep. So I'm going to go and jump on him and make him watch some nickelodeon with me.

i am literally a mess
my room is filthy
i suffocated a frightfully large spider without quite intending to
ive begun my photo-words book
dont cry over spilt milk

"oh shit, baby. when u gonna lern that friends are neva foreva?" story of my liife



ohhh sweet cam, cammycammycamcamcamcamcam.. cam cam.. cammy.. I missed you so.






- I am putting on the pounds. Thankyou Micronol or whatever you're called. I really needed that. Not. Susie says I need to eat slow releasing foods. Like porridge. Or wheat yoghurts or something. I can totarry imagine myself doing that. haaaahahahaa ha ha ha haaa haa. and breathe.

- I am in mourning over the loss of my boyfriend's hair. I shitlisted the fact that i can see the shape of his skull. srsly, whut is up with the eyebrows? love you, stinker

noisy, just the way i like it





- I'm sad that everyone is rubbish. myself included - why?





- I wanna block everyone out so that I don't have to be upset. You all enter and exit as you please. But cutting off all ties means that I don't have ample people to invite to cider picnics. woahs is me

- There is a baby at my boyfriend's house y'know. look at him! his mother brought it over from Ireland. sweet ginger tom. his name is Cal.






- Quit lurking, my comment count does not in any way represent my page views. I keep this public because frankly I have little to hide. I'm grateful that someone finds the stupidity I have to publish on the web interesting or entertaining, just don't be anonymous because that is discouraging.


- I was leaning slightly out of the window and as I looked down onto these vertical black pipes I noticed the geometric shapes below and I felt conscious of everything and a little shakey. I'll do whatever I have to when I'm afraid. I burnt my finger last night too.  ouch

No gameshows this weekend baby. they depress me something rotten. I love pearls & girls with black eyes. I am sick of people. Damn the ones I find enchanting. I hate the dentist. I don't really care for criticisms of my body, I've thought it all before. I often hear friends complain because they are at a place in their lives wherein they don't quite know what they want out of their lives, I want so many things that perhaps I am quite in the same position. I don't know which I want to achieve first. I don't care how you address me because my name isn't really that important at all. I need a new bra, or ten. My breasts don't know what size they want to be. I want to whisk my lover away to Uganda this summer, I want us to take a lot of acid - so much that we really halloucinate. There is a lady in a red dress that I left behind and I wonder if I will see her in a different light. Kittenboy told me that I used to speak rather beautifully, i am gutter trash as of late.


here is some post-sex vulnerability. I was wandering around the first floor in only my knickers. i'm on the rag so they came on seconds after. i wish someone would call me and sing me pretty, old songs. or buy me the black chiffon dress with buttons and ruffles that i'm pining for.

I spent last night watching every single episode of Paddington Bear ever made



&now I sort of feel inclined to eat a marmalade sandwhich