Three Goblin Art
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izzy's playlists!
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@thependulumswing
Learning German
Facebook has an uncanny way of reminding us about posts we’ve made. What I find more intriguing is: the posts made, have a direct connection to current life events or situations. As if you were going through the exact same thing at this point in history. Reminding you, you haven’t dealt with the event. Or: it was a projection of a situation you’ll have to deal with later. I should set the scene…
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I can't remember how to love you right now.
You know one of them ones where: you look in the mirror, and the outfit doesn’t sit right? It’s not sitting right right. Not lopsided or ill-fitting or un-ironed. More: awkward? Uncomfortable? Unrelaxed? Cringy? Like the clothes don’t belong to you. Or: you borrowed them Almost like you have an itch. It’s hot. Prickling against your skin, but the room temperature is normal. The weather is…
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Prologue: 2019.Â
Home is where the heart is, right? Or so the saying goes. For a few moments, contemplate moving your heart. The irrational and rational thoughts that confusingly write and re-write their own conflicting pros and cons lists; dancing around the log fire, the flame being your heart. The heat is intense and the contrast between the: hot fiery instincts of the heart colliding harshly and unforgivingly…
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What, Where, Why.
What, Where, Why.
Why is my head ringing? Where is that coming from? I’m confused, what is that? Bells?! Ringing really loudly permeates my dream. The dream I have been longing to have. I finally got to sleep after being awake from midnight. And now these damn bells! What the hell is this about? Oh. Wait. It’s Sunday. Germany. Durr. Nothing is open here; the streets are bare; it’s oddly quiet apart from them…
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Did that actually happen?
Did that actually happen?
You know one of the dreams where you can see yourself sleeping? An: Out-Of-Body experience? I had one last night; as it was happening I was almost lucid. I thought: urgh, one of these. Ok. I’ll run with this for a minute. Started getting a bit brave and explore my surroundings. I walked to the front room, went in the bathroom and washed my face. Got bored, went back to bed. Boring. Mundane.…
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The Last 72
TRIGGER WARNING! THE VIEWS EXPRESSED HERE ARE ABOUT SUICIDE. IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED, PLEASE DO NOT READ. IN LOCAL AREAS PLEASE CONSULT YOUR DR. OR GO TO YOUR NEAREST ACCIDENT & EMERGENCY HOSPITAL FOR URGENT MEDICAL ASSISTANCE. The following organisations are available 24hours a day: Samaritans: 116 123 National Suicide Prevention Line: 0800 689 5652 I still haven’t figured it out. I…
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😒
I had so much energy. I laughed more than I have ever done for a while. Drank more than I intended. Alcohol is a wickedly clever master at releasing your inhibitions. It’s chemical mix with my already sensitive brain chemistry revealed a: chatty, laughing, narcissist. Any social anxiety that was present, left. My eloquence was piqued. I was quietly arrogant. Didn’t care about being the odd one…
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Movember, Movember, the 1st of November.
Movember, Movember, the 1st of November.
The night of the 31st of October and for the first time in awhile, sleeps evades me. In the dark, all the shapes, patterns and colours dance around in my view to the ringing silence of the room. In this state, I started to wonder: what are the odds of me being alive? Becoming and being the person I currently am? This started to run a little deeper. What adversity did my great-great-great…
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Maladaptive Mechanisms
Once upon a time, circa 2006. I couldn’t care less about anyone’s opinion of me. How I looked. Or spoke. What I wore. Or how I walked. If I was intelligent. Or lucky. The afro sporting, comb placed precariously, baggy jeans wearing, Tim’s stomping swagger, walked around the arts university not there to make friends, just to get my degree and bounce. I, simply, didn’t care about anyone’s…
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Part Three: Lamotrigine and The Social Meter
Part Three: Lamotrigine and The Social Meter
Hugo’s girlfriend at the time, called me up saying she wanted to do a surprise party for him. I know Hugo, the last thing he wants is a surprise especially on his birthday. He doesn’t really make a deal about most things and his birthday is at the top of the list. Knowing this, I asked: are you sure you want to do this? I don’t know how he will react. I was assured it would turn out ok, all I…
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Part Two: Lamotrigine and The Weather Forecast.
Part Two: Lamotrigine and The Weather Forecast.
I remember one particular hallucination: a Gekko. Alway present in my peripheral vision. It stood biped behind me when I looked in the mirror or anything with a reflection. It’s upper limbs would rest of my shoulder, head stroking the sides of my face. It made me shudder. But it pushed me down, rooting me firmly into the ground. It’s tail, very scaly and pale yellow, would coil around a paint…
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Part One: The Tale of Lamotrigine and The Kitty Cat of Depression.
Part One: The Tale of Lamotrigine and The Kitty Cat of Depression.
The first lockdown and the death of dear friend, not to mention the hours of working from home, was unconsciously bearing a heavy weight on my mental wellbeing. Sometimes the working day could run into 12 hours of staring at a screen with endless Webex meetings, flicking the switch of hyper-extroversion sending my body’s energy bill soaring; only to retreat 3 metres away to stare at another…
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Contrast Conflict
I’m trying to stem the violent onslaught of chest pounding palpitations that seems to plague me of late. Fraught with worry, the number of cardiac appointments, trips to Accident and Emergency and countless tests later, yield no physical issue with my ticker. If not physiological, then what? Can the electrical impulses between my synapses, trigger my flight responses? Am so anxious, I’m blind to…
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Process Failure.
You’re having a baby. Selfishly, I placed myself at the centre of your joy. Integral and trusted. Part of the chosen few; the created family, not by blood, but by your own convicted choice. Flaws of mine, my fractured, disorganised, chaotic thoughts and moods accepted, because they don’t wholly define me. The good bits, the squidgy, sticky, raw, emotive, charismatic, ride-or-die, till death do…
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The days are dark, the nights are bright.
The only thing you want and need, is your company and that can never be granted.
The water is still, clear and piping hot. Water slowly drips from the tap, rippling the stagnant water, gently bobbing my genitals; mimicking motion sickness, I calm my breathing. My body is exposed, every flaw vulnerable, the view unsightly, disgusted the pitches of black is subjected to this view. I feel my skin is flushed pink from the heat under the warm cinnamon tones that cover by entire…
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Tomorrow isn’t Promised...
Tomorrow isn’t Promised…
This year, I felt the need to live the year rather than to document every agonising minute that passed. There is something draining about pouring out your heart and soul and always appearing vulnerable. I needed strength and some wisdom; a good dose of sit back and enjoy the ride is just what the doctor ordered. I clearly underestimated the ride we’d all be in for. Equally though, I feel more…
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Everywhere I turn, I am being bombarded with media content about the unknown, definite, possible end of the world. Depending on which class of newspaper you follow, people you befriend, news being funnelled to your instagram account, and family views you hold important. I’ve never been more exposed to contradictory points of views, ever! With all this confusion and purports of opinions, they…
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