ohgodohgod

HIGH POEM from Peewee on Vimeo.

On our third date Charlotte and I went to London Zoo, which was my idea. I went to Marks and Spencer on the way to meet her and bought a bottle of red wine and some of those sealed plastic tubs of picnic food; some olives, some humous, little mozzarella balls and a small baguette, I think. I shoved them into my bag, which was one of those canvas satchel type things. With the throw I’d taken from the sofa in there already it was getting quite bulky and awkward and the wine particularly made it a bit heavy, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to arrive on a date carrying a shopping bag. Maybe that would’ve been fine, actually, I could’ve just said that I’d brought a picnic, but given that the date was specifically about going to the zoo bringing a picnic for afterwards might’ve been seen as presumptuous, maybe.

— the long weekend: SEVEN: THE ZOO

crapulumvitae:

Completely aside from the fact that ‘bar’ is not on here, sweetheart - I think you’ve confused job with blog.

I am alternating between two major worries:

1. I am definitely tired enough to fall asleep at the wheel. Sleep seems like the most wonderful thing I can imagine at the moment. I am bargaining with my eyes, allowing them extra long blinks. I know this is dangerous but I cannot stop myself.

2. The road is narrow and dark, lined on either side by thick hedgerows. I can imagine something bursting out into the path of the car. A badger, a fox, a rabbit. I really don’t want to kill any of these things with the car, I don’t want to swerve into a hegderow. I can also imagine maybe a person or another car being there as I round a corner, or a dead body under a sheet. Sometimes hedgerows are so thick and deep that they can swallow up a car. You can crash into one and just stay there. Sometimes people go missing, it turns out that they’ve crashed into a hedgerow and nobody’s been able to find the car. Sometimes the police find cars with bodies still trapped inside that’ve been in there for years.

Charlotte is dozing again.

— the long weekend: SIX: HEDGEROWS

I am driving on an A road in Scotland somewhere, which is probably in the general direction of this guest house. When I get to the next junction I will probably finally snap from the stress and deliberately drive the car into the central reservation and afterwards pretend that I lost control due to having some sort of seizure. Then I could ask the ambulance crew for a lift to the guest house. I’d worry about getting home later.

— the long weekend: FIVE: NO PROBLEMO

I think about using the word ‘whopper’ outside of the Burger King context.

“Hi, nice dog, what a whopper.”

“I’ve got a report due in on Tuesday, it’s a real whopper.”

“Christ Gemma, you should’ve seen it, it was such a whopper, I just got straight in a taxi.”

Seems like whopping might be a verb. To whop. To be a pretty big burger. With cheese preferably. And no raw onions, which seems like something that shouldn’t really need pointing out. I can’t imagine an American

— the long weekend: FOUR: TO WHOP

THREE: WINEHOUSE

“Yep.” I say. “Pretty happy with how it’s going. Very happy actually.” Charlotte must remain in a good mood. Charlotte must have the longest ever uninterrupted period of good mood that she has ever had. She must be shielded from all negativity. She will associate this incredible period of unbroken good mood, as facilitated by me, with being in my company. This is the same thing as love. She will romanticise this period of her life, even this service station, even this horrible expensive coffee. She will romanticise me. After I’m dead, she’ll tell our great-grandchildren how lovely I was, tell them about this weekend, mention my breezy, self-assured, friendly, charming attitude and how consistently attractive I always was to her.

TWO: WHOPPER WITH CHEESE

I’d have the sparkling wine on ice, maybe some candles, maybe Spotify on my iPhone playing some Marvin Gaye or something and then I would wake Charlotte up. I’d say ‘surprise!’ and maybe I could somehow carry her up the stairs and into the room without making it seem that her weight was in any way a problem for me to lift…

ohgodohgod: TWO: WHOPPER WITH CHEESE →

ppbloxham:

It is taking a lot longer to get to Scotland than I thought it would. I have been driving for ~5 hours. About an hour ago I passed Leeds. I think I am near Durham. None of these places are as far North as I had thought. I’ve never really driven North. I am very tired, I badly need to piss. I…

(Source: vampirewankend, via boomvagynamite)