jaye is much better now she takes girl tablets. she is a fucking amazing parent, collector of other people debris and discarded images, musical savant, currently unemployed hackney based painter and drawer of pictures, computer saddo, documentary film-maker in waiting & petite and bijoux science fiction fan girl... oh and i play records too :)

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This event is totally soundtracked by a tinnitus type deep ringing. All voices are muffled and hard to hear as this multi timbred tone pervades. Everywhere I look has no steady shape. Everything is slowly melting and shifting yet still recognisable. Bit like that trippy wolf in the snow animated gif but everywhere. I am standing in the carpark of my ex wife’s block of flats. And I am striping my skin off in slow, steady very neat strips with a potato pealer and laying the flayed pieces in a long metal box on the ground. Each piece seems to fold and lay like silk. It’s small like a cigar box but long and the inside seems to be lined with red velvet but I can’t be sure. As I do this I can see people screaming at me but all I can hear is that pulsating tone. No one is coming near me it’s as if I have a bell jar around me fashioned from vibrating air. By my side is drapers dummy and on it is a dress. But the longer I stare at it I notice it has legs and arms and a head and hair. All that left to remove is my genitals and they seem to come away in my hand. Whole. I neatly place them on top of the folded skin in the box, give it a gentle kiss and shut the lid. A person I don’t recognise takes the box and gives me the most gentle smile, nods and walks away past the screaming crowds and fades into this undulating and shifting background and is gone. I step into this suit. Tailor made it seems. Muscle around toes wriggle, caves and thighs flex as this slippery new outer casing flies over me. I can feel connections, internal sighing at finally being able to be used. I notice that the drone is now at a very high pitch and very loud. The buildings and the floor and the sky are shifting at such a high rate now that nothing has pattern or shape it’s just streaks of colour and I am floating. This suit has grafted to muscle and nerve. It’s me. It’s mine. It fits. Then there is silence. The bell jar is removed with a suck of air and a pop. Another person is standing beside me and she gives me a kiss in the cheek, grabs the drapers dummy and wheels it away. I’m standing naked in a pool of blood, piss and sweat in the carpark of my ex wife’s block of flats. I look up and from the balcony they wave and throw confetti, all around there are people on their balconies cheering and throwing confetti. I realise it’s cold and my nipples are like bullets. I can hear church bells. A woman gives me a dressing gown and some slippers and start walking. Everything is tender. New parts squeaking as I move my legs. We laugh. This woman besides me leads me to a car. A big car. Black. We get inside.

You know when you have soooo much to vent/say/shout but have no energy and it’s all so garbled in your head that it would end up coming out as just frustrated bollocks??