friday
the heat is stifling. walked off the plane straight into a 26 degree wall. smack-bang-hits-you-right-in-the-face heat. at 10:30pm.
we have no air conditioning here.

outside blue neon has replaced the moon.

sweat is forming where flesh meets flesh: under my breasts. between crossed shins.
i thought i could hear the sea but realised it was the sound of traffic in the distance.

tomorrow we are going to venice.
it will be beautiful and i will take polaroids to put on my wall in my house in brighton.
which is also beautiful.

today i spent money i dont have on shoes that will cripple me. the are sleek black sling-backs that seem to say sophistication and sex and a hint of, perhaps, stupidity.
the heels is lethal and they will make my toes bleed.
so sexy so sexy.

i will be kissed in a matter of days.
alex you are so sweet.
its nice to be on the receiving end of drunken text messages for once.

saturday
oh venice. too much beauty to absorb and regurgitate in words.
the palaces and the churches and the bridges and balconies and pillars. decorated in mosaics and painted with gold and adorned with statues.
and the crumbling buildings sinking into the lagoons murky waters.
the death of venice.
its all incredibly tragic and beautiful. i am in love with the place already.
in spite of its smells and the pigeons in the piazza de san marco.

as we crossed one of many bridges today a gondola passed beneath us on which an accordian played accompanied a man singing 'just one cornetto' - the original. just like the advert.
pure quality. i could not believe it.

i am becoming obsessed with buying a bag from the african men that sell fake gucci, prada and louis vuitton in the street in venice. a red leather gucci bag. it is quite beautiful and also too expensive for a fake.
perhaps it is all stolen merchandise. who knows or cares? it would look beautiful on my arm either way...

today i walked miles and yet i am still a big fat wobbly whale. i have eaten so much im surprised i didnt snap the heels of my slingbacks walking back from the restuarant.
i must start eating less.
this is not a joke anymore.

when i was in the sea today, the radio from the beach bar was playing nothing can stop us and... it blew me away.
i think i miss home and miss trash too much for a supposedly sane person.
i get homesick too easily.
get over it get over it

oh the nostalgia: downstaris in a kareoke bar a man is insisting on murdering sweet home alabama.
sussex: it all comes flooding back.
how long before it all begins again?
i can hardly wait.

alex! reply to my message!
dont you realise that im a girl who has come to be reliant on male company? if no one tells me they want me soon, i might start comfort eating.
and NO ONE WANTS TO FUCK A WHALE.
correct?

the lift they have here at 'hotel international' where i spend my italian nights is worryingly made by a company called 'scam'
perhaps i should start taking the stairs.

today we went to the peggy guggenheim museum in venice. it used to be her house: she lived on the bank of the grand canal. stunning.
she was too rich and was an eccentric. she loved yappy-type-dogs. they are all buried next to her in the garden. she owned works by bacon, picasso, klee, giaccometti, miro... the usual suspects.
i bought a postcard of a brancusi.

all art is useless.

my friend sam who drives me to work at the dogs and who lives in a highrise with two kids, two rats, her man and an alsation doesnt know about, or care about, art. it has absolutely no impact on her life.
and why should it? what is it?
who really cares? how does an artist justify and get away with doing what they do?
when i think about art in terms of function and necessity it makes me very angry.
even though in reality im a bit of an art freak.
i care immensely for the beautiful and the visually pleasing.
and i suppose for the thought provoking.

maybe some people dont need art because they dont need to think about the things it forces into your head.
questions like 'why?'
sometimes i dont need that.


on the way to venice today there was a thunderstorm. it poured and poured and i saw fork lightening flash all around like millions taking photos at once.
not much thunder. just silent streaks of light across the sky like silver veins in rock.

sunday
new artists i continuously fail to list under 'favourites' due to either ultra-familiarisation or nameless pieces:
richard billingham
tim noble and sue webster
christopher wool
stephen meisel*

[*does fashion photography count as art? or is that too grand a question for this time of night?]

i am still obsessed by owning a red gucci bag. or a tiny red louis vuitton. i know i would be spat on by the 'no-logo' generation that surrounds me but i think i am drawn to the irony as much as the red shiny plastic adorned with the LV insignia. of course theyre all fakes. very good fakes made in turkey. but its still subverting the capilatist companies in a way.

i love my sister so very much.

tonight my brother and i had the first intense conversation of our entire lives as siblings.
about lonliness, anxiety, emptiness, the pressure to succeed: all the fundamental emotions of a teenagers life. [i mean that in the last patronising way of course...]
he nearly cried but stopped himself either out of pride or shame.
he is so terribly depressed and theres nothing i can do.
i feel awkward being so emotional with him.

flora my sister was present as the talk sank deeper and deeper into despair and tried to cheer us up offering nuggets of wisdom that were full of the honesty and clarity that only an 11-year-old could muster. she made sense.
she makes sense.
we talked afterwards and she was so... mature. its so strange that she has a brain that thinks and contains opinions. to me she always seems too small to talk with such assurance and knowledge on such matters. i forget that even at her young age she has already been through therapy.
maybe she has learnt all she knows from her psychiatrist?

today i lay in the italian midday sun for about two hours without sun cream on.
i am officially an idiot. and i deserve to be red raw and have stupid tan lines on my tits. if ali laughs at me [or alex for that matter] i have only myself to blame.

in venice today i saw the most beautiful cathedral.
st. mark's, the famous one.
inside, the ceilings domes and archways covered in golden mosaic everywhere you turn. i cannot describe it. even if i showed you a photo you wouldnt believe me just how amazing it could be.
when my dad went in and gazed up at the decoration, i actually heard him catch his breath.

monday
in my [new] bikini i eat chocolate to feed the growing lump of pink flesh that smiles up at me with its one gaping eye of a navel.
god i am too fat for this food.

reasons to love my sister, #1 in an on-going series:
she says of robert smith "but he doesnt sound like a normal person, does he?"

13:30 tuesday 22nd august i will finally meet up with alessandro tinelli on the bank of the grand canal.
and i might get a snog out of it.

tuesday
he was late. we misunderstood each other completely and i was alone in venice for an hour. completely alone. i wandered along the bank of the grand canal and window-shopped on the rialto and was very impressed that i can say i have no stood in the same place that antonio spat on shylocks jewish gaberdine [shakespeare fans]. finally he arrived and we embraced and i could taste the sweat on his top lip when he kissed me.
he bought me water in piazza san marco in front of the cathedral in an expensive cafe. it was very romantic. like real lovers in venice.
we lay on the grass in one of venices only parks and smoked some morroccon hash and he kissed my belly and we listened to incubus.

i feel i have a headache. something to do with a combination of the heat and gin and hash thats floating around inside me maybe?

i was supposed to text him tonight but my phone is dead out here and my fathers motoroller is being a bitch.
and i need to sleep.

i have a man. an italian with money and a cute smile.
i rule.

wednesday
last night i had a panic attack.
i was lying in bed and i was thinking about sex and life and relationships and existence as i know it and im not sure how it came into my head but i started thinking that i was h.i.v. positive and about how likely it was. and my heart beat so fast and i started to choke and it was a real panic attack. i was completely desperate. i couldnt see a way out.
what if somehow i am?
do i want to know? i dont think i want to ever know.
im going to have to start thinking about sex and not just fucking anyone and being safe.

i dont ever want to die. let alone now.
jesus christ what do i sound like?


my dreams of fake louis vuitton have been crushed because we left venice for the last time this evening.

italian mtv just played zoot woman. fuck. i didnt even know they had videos...

back home tomorrow. back to reading. will get drunk and sleep uncomfortably and see bands and be dirty and festival-style.
woop!

razor; loo roll; tent; sleeping bag; deoberant; make up; toothbrush; money [for wine, drugs and as little food as i can survive with]
is that all i need? i think so.

why am i writing this down?

albert chong
marcel bulanger
benoit plateus
i went to look at some of the bianale exhibitions today and discovered these people [above] who create infinitely beautiful things.
i think at the jamacan exhibition i actually radiated awe.


i have no water and all i need is a drink.

and that is where i stopped. i guess my thirst became over-whelming and i had to put the pen down.

reading has since happened. and other things too.
eventually i will get it all out of my system. but until then.
[click: upload]