Sinister: Fire la la la

[JENOWL22 at xxx.com]

Hewwo,

Well, I am posting again. That is how I am starting off this post, because it 
is true. I am not very lucid at the moment, my little child brain has gone 
all numb so I am being all monosyllabic, and a sweet little old lady asked me 
if I was on drugs, and then said something about burning in hell rah rah rah.

Everyone seems decided that I'm burning in Hell at some point soon. Priests 
especially. I am never going to confession again, they're supposed to listen, 
not tell you that you are the spawn of the devil (well, he didn't say that 
but you oculd tell he really wanted to), and gasp and stuff, just because you 
mention that you were mean to your ex girlfriend. He didn't even give me a 
chance to say the whole thing before he said I was going to Hell if I didn't 
stop. The Lord will smite me and my kind down with his big smelly fire sword. 
Oh, cause that's always fun...

I think I will put some content in, but I can't think of anything to say. Ian 
played me oh come emmanuel over the phone, and it's really really ace, but 
christmas songs are a bit sad, because there's only a set time you can listen 
to them without getting really depressed. But I like it, because it works 
really really well. I think they've done amazing grate genius things with it, 
and I will listen to it all year round once I get it at the sake of my sanity 
and biological clock.

I had a really bad week, this week, I think I can't ever be cheerful anymore. 
I fell out with James the Ginger Perv, and I can't even remember what about, 
but he called me frigid and a bitch and a nerd and sayed he pretty much hoped 
I got beaten up. 

Then I was ill.

Then I fell, because someone left lots of plastic strips, like the kind that 
go round boxes, all over the place, and they got caught up in my big clumsy 
feet, and I went crashing down, onto broken glass and pointy rocks, and mud 
and my tights got a massive hole in them and my hands and knees were all torn 
and there was blood and mud all over me, and then a couple of hard kids 
walked by and laughed, they came over to push me back into the mud, and I was 
nearly crying and I just screamed "If you fucking come near me I'll knock 
your fucking teeth down your bastard throats" (with sweary words and 
everything) and the amazing thing was, that even though I was all muddy and 
bloody and crying and half in the mud still and I really didn't mean it, they 
just sort of laughed and walked away. It was really amazing, really and truly.

And after that, on the day after, they were at it again. And I ripped my 
tights again, climbing a fence to try and get to school on time, because I'd 
slept in, because I had bad dreams, and I decided that instead of walking 
about looking like an extra in Les Miserables again, I would take them off, 
only it was cold and James the Big Ginger Perv saw that I had bruises and 
said "Oh but Jen, you never bruise.", which is true, because I will take a 
real beating and never show it, and I just gave him a bog frown, and he 
laughed and said it was really funny.

Then on the way home three little kid hard kids tripped me up on the bus and 
I hurt my knees again. So really my knees have been quite unlucky this week.

But good things, I have done more things to my Angelfire website, and it's 
still really pants, because I still can't upload pictures, but it is happy 
and cheerful, and I've done another Bob the Ghost Wasp story, about how Bob 
became a ghost, and I've done a bit on Shy Violet from Rainbow Brite, but 
it's not up yet. Do you want to go there? If you do it's 
www.angelfire.com/weird/mmmhowqueer/index/html (ha ha no more expage jobs for 
me...)

And I am going to a party and I am going to wear a purple dress from the 
magic shop in Glasgow which sells clothes, and i think it really was magic, 
because they had perfect dresses for me and my friend. Well, mine isn't 
perfect, but my friend said it was. I think I just look silly. Because I have 
a cleavage now, you know, and it all looks very grown up. First the mascara, 
now this, what's happening to me? 

This has been quite a long mail. I'm not so incoherent now, though I still 
am, so I'm sorry, if you read this and it wasn't very sense making.

I have to do a Personal Essay, about something that happened to you that's 
worth writing about, that you can let the teacher read. So I couldn't think 
of anything good, but I decided in the end to write about the time I went to 
stay with my German Penfriend and she turned out to be a Hitler lover, and 
she said he was grate because he killed Scottish people, and she beat me up, 
and poured salt in my cuts, and wouldn't let me sleep on  bed, only on the 
floor, but not like in a sleepover where you have a sleeping bag, but in the 
way where it's solid stone type, and you don't even have a blanket, and how 
she tied me up and locked me in a cupboard and told her parents I'd run away 
when I was actually upstairs in the cupboard, and how I used to sneak out of 
the window during the night, and go and look at the trees and the sea and 
things in the moon, until one time she woke up and saw i was gone and shut 
the window so I couldn't get back in and I had to wake her parents up, and 
how she put her bracelets and things in my case and said I stole them, but 
the teacher didn't really believe me, even though it was very true, because I 
still get nightmares about it sometimes, and it was very bad. But I'm going 
to write about it anyway. 

I love Colin. He is very nice and he did a very nice thing for me. I really 
do owe him one in a big way.

Sorry for boring you, only you didn't have to read it if you didn't want to, 
only I'm glad you had, only I'm sorry that if you did you would be bored. 
Only I can never think of anything interesting.

Toodle pip,

Hugs,

Jen







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