FORGIVE ME FATHER FOR I HAVE SINNED.

...the back door steps, in the dark and the rain.
What have I done?

I DON'T BELONG HERE.

Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want.

Working four or five nights a week, becoming the minion of a million, I the waitress am sick and tired of scraping the lamb and pastry from bone china into the dark depths of a black bin bag. I'm her little pet and she's so proud of me. I'm their little toy, they're enjoying this. I'm an outsider, not a very impressive one.

By the end of each night they're occupying the round table by the window, bickering about a load of shit that doesn't matter to no-one. I'm perched on a velor bar stool, sipping at a half empty pint glass, refusing to make eye contact with anything other than the liquor bottles that sit opposite me with their smug little faces.

My fingers are painted burnt orange, weighed down by clusters of inexpensive jewelery and the smell that makes men hunt and fuck.

Could I be more...alone?

Current mindless things (to pass the time): Joseph Gordon-Levitt movies (Stop-Loss is considered a Philippe fan movie), Soya products, brightly coloured nail varnishes, hunting around charity shops for old photo frames, watercolours, lying out in the long grass and dieting myself down a stone.

HIS PALMS ARE SWEATY, KNEES WEAK, ARMS ARE HEAVY.

Anouk has been driving me up the wall, constantly wanting fed, when I'm trying to wean the kittens onto meat, and all she does is eat it and feed them herself. It's driving me crazy. The pictures above are from my day at home yesterday, when I allowed the kittens to run around the living room, then settle down for a nap on my lap.

I'm liking Eminem's new album; Relapse. But I'm not loving it. 'We Made You' and 'Beautiful' are the best tracks, although only one song from the whole album was produced by Eminem, the rest are work of Dr Dre. On Radio 1 the other day, driving along the motorway to Glasgow, they were talking about how they were expecting this album to be mental, after the amount of time Eminem and Dr Dre have taken off to work on this. Oh well.

Working in the pub last night, I needed a pair of rollerskates and a sparkly thong. I was waiting, Helen was on the bar, and Mike in the kitchen. I spent most of the evening running, breaking a sweat, and stretching my wrists, carrying heavy plates.
"Can I request another slice of lemon, tartar sauce, tomato ketchup, the bill, a jug of water and four glasses, the dessert menu, some more serviettes..."
How much fucking time do you think I have?
I enjoyed it though. I was pleasing.

ASTHENIA.

A single serving of today is very sufficient.

Waking up drunk after 4 hours sleep, wobbling around the shower and wondering whether I'm able to hold bagel and milk down; I think to myself "I'm so hungover, I wish I was dead."

Last night's entertainment consisted of emailing lots of random people, torturing other people over the phone, writing reviews for different shampoos on Amazon, and turning up Infected Mushroom so loud that my ears were ringing from dusk till dawn.

The funeral was held at the church at 10am. Both the chapel and the graveyard were packed with friends and family, wearing unwashed dry clean only suits, and carrying packets of disposable tissues. My mother and I stood to the right of the entrance, my arm around her back, her eyes washing off the make-up only applied minutes ago. After the service, we made our way to the crematorium, where thoughts of Pop Tarts and Steve-O headbutting crisps in the Gumball 3000 were able to catch my tears before them taking off.

An inappropriate thought on an appropriate day, or an appropriate thought on an inappropriate day? This thought will certainly not be shared.

Much to my father's disagreement, I spent the day alone at home, trying to piece my head back together like humpty dumpty. I can feel myself falling down again. A lot of sad songs, hysterical crying and upsetting films. The only thing able to cheer me up right now is Anouk and her little fluffy family. I plucked Ruby from her box of brothers and dedicated some time to making her comfortable in the company of people alone. It didn't take long before she was pouncing around my sheets, pawing at my face, and falling asleep under my neck.

LE LAIT.

I've been without my digital camera for a couple of days now, as I have lost my charger, and it's fairly irritating. I've been playing around with my other cameras, which I'm sure will turn out bloody awful. The polaroid is too bloody expensive to kit out with a film just yet, seen as all the motherfucking DWP people are screaming out for cash I don't have. There is no way in hell I'm going to be able to afford an education at this rate baby. The future is beginning to look a little grim. I'm really stressing out about money actually. The fact that I have a small box under my window seat, dedicated to my college fund, that holds only £10, is slightly concerning.

On a good note, the kittens are doing very well, and I'm starting the weaning. I'm starting them off on a dropper of artificial cat milk, and will soon be moving them onto a more solid substance, such as semolina. Isaac (Ruby) isn't enjoying it quite so much but Dito (Gizmo), Donovan (referred to as 'Ginge') and Cooper, are all happy to be on the receiving end of extra foods. This will be tricky.

I'm attending the funeral of my landlord's husband tomorrow, which is a very sad way to start the week. He was such a kind and gentle man, who will be missed.

I'm in love with Infected Mushroom's IM The Supervisor once again, and am eagarly awaiting the release of their new album this month. Without pyschedelic trance, I'm blind, deaf and dumb.

I've just noticed a very large spider above my mac, and am currently thinking about how one is going to sleep tonight! I have been listening to Arthur's album he produced in 2006. He has such a lovely singing voice, and is very musically talented, but the album was written around the time of his divorce, and it's quite obvious. Tonight, I introduced him to Muse and Jolie Holland, and he gave me a set of expensive watercolour paints. I'll be busy this week!

A night cap, and a late night, I'm looking forward to this.

LIKE A BIG PIZZA PIE. THAT'S AMORE.

Everything falls at some point.

ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS.

Another sunny day, and I wake up with a rough tongue. Last night's cans had made my head weary this morning, not to mention my bank balance £15 less than before. "One should never mix eBay with alcohol." I denied the calls from my work, in a throwing fashion, let out a few grunts, and the odd moan, and woke myself up to a mint and tea tree shower, some Quorn salad and a handful of nuts and sultanas.

I started my first day of work at my second job this evening. I've waited tables before, when I was about 15 years old, and had the same amount of confidence as a silent fart. I'm finding it easier this time around, plus my coworkers are all very pleasant, and the work is less daunting than I remember.

The pictures above are from earlier on today, when the sheep escaped into the back yard, and I let the kittens explore a little more.