New Podcast!

Hola amigos!

I hope you’re well.

I know I normally start of my rambles moaning about the weather, but to be fair, it is absolutely freezing. I know, I know, I live in England so should be used to it, but my heart lives in a summery paradise, so I can’t accept the freezing cold and occasional snow…

On the bright side, I have some news to share with you. This weekend, I will be launching a comparision podcast to Sincerely, Jennifer x, which will be primarily about my love life (as absurd as it is, sometimes) and the things I’ve learned from it, as well as the many ways it impacts on my writing.

The first episode will be available on the 16th, and I can’t wait to share it with you!

Besos,

J x


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Watch the “Love Lessons” short film here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
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Summer Of Love

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A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self
MYSIGN: The Elements
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A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self

Hey,

It’s me, or rather, you, from the future. Put down the star trek fan fiction, we need to talk. I have good news and bad news.

The good news is, you having fuller lips won’t be as bad as you think. Sure, you get made fun of it for now, but in about ten years, it will be fashionable, and both men and women will pay tons of money for surgery and lip glosses that promise the plump pout you are currently embarrassed of. I mean, it will be favoured on white women over you, but it’s something.

Don’t bother fucking about with your eyebrows either, because it isn’t worth the effort. Thicker brows will be fashionable too, and let’s be real, you can’t handle pain, so waxing, plucking or threading really will never be an option for us. Now I’ve typed all that, I’m concerned that they may be out again. Luckily for you, you learn, over time, not to care anyway. They’re just eyebrows.

Onto some bad news, but with a hint of good news. You will never “grow into your nose”, and you won’t learn how to contour it away either. However, you will one day learn to accept that your face would completely change if it was different, and that is a reminder of your heritage, and you will realise the importance of keeping your past close to you, because it’s a lonely, fucked up world, and sometimes, all you will have is yourself, so it will be comforting to be able to remember where you came from. You are a concoction of so many different places and people, and that is something to be proud of, so don’t be ashamed that you look different, because that’s fine.

You’ve spent your whole life feeling like you didn’t fit in, and a lot of people around you contributed to that. A lot of kids picked on you, and called you weird or ugly. Some were even racist, which is fucked up and you’ll probably still think about it for a long time, but don’t hold onto your anger for them. It doesn’t help you, and it won’t change them. You are responsible for you. You can’t make everyone good. You survived, and that’s all that matters. Maybe they grew up to be better people by themselves, maybe they didn’t, I don’t know, because I’m busy doing my own thing, but I wish I (or you), had learned to do that sooner.

2017, which is where I am now, is going to be weird as fuck, and you should prepare for that as best you can. You’ve seen some pretty weird and fucked up things already, so I wish I didn’t have to tell you it gets worse, but I do, and I’m sorry about that. It turns out you were right about Tony Blair, but you were wrong about Kevin Spacey. You were very, very wrong about Kevin Spacey. You will discover that sometimes, evil can be hidden by nice things, and nice gestures, and a nice face, and you will never stop being astounded and disgusted by it. You will never really learn to be aloof or unsurprised by supposedly good people turning out to be awful, but maybe that’s a good thing. You were also wrong about Seamus Heaney, but he isn’t a sex offender like Kevin Spacey (probably should have mentioned that in more detail earlier, sorry), he’s just a better writer than your jealous teenage self was willing to acknowledge, and at some point, you will find it within yourself to admit that you only dislike him because he has a nobel prize, and you don’t (yet). There is still time for you, and you don’t have to dislike people because they have achieved things you haven’t, especially when you are literally still in school, and haven’t even finished your exams. He’s 53 years older than you, so it is to be expected that he will achieve things you want, before you do. Give yourself a chance to grow, and you’ll do all those things too. With this in mind, you can also stop hating about 45% of celebrities and public figures that you don’t like, because the same thing applies. You have plenty of time to collect trophies, sign books and perform.

On the bright side, there will be a new Star Trek series, with a black female lead, and a better chance of not being cancelled like enterprise, but to enjoy that, you first have to endure a Tory government, leaving the European Union, and an absolute bastard being the president of the US.

I probably should have done those one at a time, but it’s important that you understand something. Many of those things happened because of voter apathy, and I know that right now, you’re super hype for politics and desperate to vote, but in about three years, that enthusiasm will die, and one man is responsible. When you were (or are) eighteen, you will vote for the liberal democrats, because Nick Clegg makes a lot of promises. Nick Clegg will then form a coalition with the conservatives and the effects will be devastating to the country, and to you too. It will break your heart. You will lose complete faith in politicians, and it will take a long time to get it back. You get your groove back after seeing Nicola Sturgeon in a debate during the 2015 election, and will reluctantly return to the Labour roots you were raised on, because it’s the closest thing to the SNP in England (I mean, it isn’t really, but it’s the best you can do), so if we ever get a chance to do 2010 again, save yourself some heartache and just vote labour or green. It doesn’t actually matter how you vote really, in the bigger picture, because you’re registered to vote in a safe Tory seat, but it might make you personally feel better. The moral of that story is, people might let you down, specifically politicians, but not all of them are the same and many of them do want to help. Don’t give up and definitely use your vote, and encourage others to do the same, no matter how annoying it makes you feel, because people not voting led to most of 2017.

Speaking of men in 2010 who will break your heart, there will be a man that you meet on a tube train, on New Year’s Eve, he will make lots of promises and tell you so many nice things, but he will ruin your life for about two years, and to be completely honest, you’ll still be slightly broken in 2017, and maybe further on, I don’t know yet, so again, if we get the chance to do 2010 again, don’t talk to anyone on the tube. It’s frowned on anyway, regardless of how Northern your upbringing was. Keep your mouth shut and read a book in uncomfortable silence, like everyone else.

Back to how fucked up 2017 is. You will be devastated by the result of the EU referendum, and will briefly consider desperately attempting to get Spanish citizenship and leaving the UK forever. I don’t know if the UK will actually leave now, because it’s currently a bit of a clusterfuck, but whatever happens, you will be okay, and the UK isn’t so bad (at least, some parts of it, anyway). Please remember to speak English in public at all times, for your own safety, because some people will go nuts and be unrelentingly xenophobic after the referendum, but keep to yourself, and don’t talk to strangers, especially in Spanish, and you’ll probably be fine. You will have to stop pretending not to speak English to avoid gross men, as this could get you into way more trouble than before, and you may feel like this place isn’t your home anymore, but there are places where you will still feel like you belong, so hold onto that.

Donald Trump becomes president. This doesn’t directly effect you all that much, but you will hate it all the same. For a while, you will feel there is no good left in the world, but there is, I promise. You just have to look harder to find it, these days. Oh, and you will later discover that he, like many people in 2017, is the absolute fucking worst, and you will no longer feel guilty about your angry blog posts about him taking up space at Wrestlemania.

You won’t be a Broadway star, like you wanted, not in 2017 anyway, but weirdly enough, Broadway World, a website where you spent most of your childhood, writes an article about one of your books this year, so that’s a nice consolation prize. You will go to university, though, like you wanted, and you’ll be a writer, which you’re just getting interested in now as I remember. You also dip back into music, and a song you compose gets thousands of streams on Spotify. I’m aware you don’t know what that means yet, or what Spotify is, but basically, thousands of people hear your music, and that’s pretty fucking cool. It’s like music downloads, except you will get way less money in royalties, so we aren’t exactly living fancy yet, but I’m working on it.

You are currently sad. I remember it so well, and I wish I could tell you that everything magically gets better, but it doesn’t. You’ll later be diagnosed with depression, and you’ll be resistant as fuck to it, because you’re used to helping the people around you with their own stuff, and it will be hard to accept that you need help to, but take it, because it doesn’t make you weak.

Depression isn’t your only problem. I know this is all pretty bleak, and I’ll stick more goodness in this soon, but I’m just writing it as it comes. You will go through many things that will make you question who you are, and will make you feel like life isn’t worth it, this will of course not be helped by the depression you are not yet currently aware that you have, but even without depression, it’s a lot to go through. You survive. That’s all I can promise. I can’t tell you it won’t hurt, but I can tell you that you survive.

Your handwriting never gets any better, by the way, but you have a very impressive typing speed, so stop worrying about that. You will barely write by hand once you leave sixth form anyway, and you will have the convenient excuse of never writing by hand, because you want to save the planet from deforestation. To be real, though, I think people are aware that you’re just really bad at writing by hand, but many people you meet are too polite to say so.

Right now, you think you’re very smart and mature, because you listen to radio 4, and read the Guardian, but you still have lots to learn, and realistically, you’re a very young fifteen, at least emotionally. I really wish we got a second shot at 2010, or any of the years actually, because there is so much we could do differently. There is so much you didn’t know, and so much that I can’t protect you from, that still haunts me to this day, but realistically, I can’t. We can’t. All that we can do is be thankful that we made it this far, and keep going.

Your survival is all that matters. Things will be tough. Things will be devastating. You will get your heart broken (no bones though, so we still hold that record), you will be disappointed, you will feel like a failure, but you will live on and you will feel joy, and passion, and pride, and you will survive.

Whatever happens, keep fucking going. You may not get exactly what you want, and things might feel hopeless some days, but you survive, and that’s all you can do sometimes.

As I write this right now, you are happyish. Things are okay. You’re currently waiting for your new music video to process through editing software, and trying to pass the time, by saying hello to the girl you once were. You had a decent night of sleep last night, despite being caught in traffic for ages. You look a bit of a mess because you didn’t put on make up this morning, but you’re still cute, and most importantly, you are still fucking here.

Besos,

J x

PS. You don’t learn to swear less, and around 2012, you stop putting it on your new year’s resolution list, because it just isn’t fucking realistic. Sorry.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

RECENT BLOGS
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review
How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker
It’s Time To Talk About EVE (Because Many People In The Wrestling Industry Won’t).

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How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker

Today is World Mental Health Day, and so I decided to give you a little insight into how I created one of the most personal poems in my latest book, “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker.

Firstly, I had to acknowledge that depression is in fact real. It isn’t that I had doubted that, I was well aware of it being a real thing, I just didn’t think it was a real thing for me. When I was twenty two, I was at one of the lowest points in my life (so far). I had lost people close to me, I had just broken up with my fiance, my wrestling career had gone to shit before it had even really got going, I couldn’t find a job, and I felt worthless. My very first published book, Tiffany, Pls (sorry Stormy Weather) had been a commercial failure, because I’d yet to learn about marketing, and wasn’t ready at all to be releasing things. Also, it wasn’t exactly my best work, and arguably made little to no sense, but in my defence, I wrote most of it at a point in my life when I was drunk a lot and watching my entire world fall apart, so, you know.

On the bright side, during this time, I got to feel the lovely arms of my muffin, William Regal, around me, and I wrote “Glasgow Caledonian” from “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls”, during a very quick but eventful trip to Glasgow, so it wasn’t ALL bad.

I felt like nothing was going right for me, but I still tried to keep it upbeat, insisting that this was just the really shit part at the beginning of my story before I went on to bigger and better things (it turns out that I was right, but this isn’t the point…).

10491203_10204227981279874_2155538529861439421_n

Smiling in a picture is also very off brand for me anyway, so that’s a real indicator that the happiness in this picture is fake. I was desperately trying to pretend everything was good, because I didn’t know what else to do.

I later found a job, and things in my life did start to improve, but I still felt just as low, if not worse than before, and it wouldn’t go away. I would have long periods of time when I wouldn’t want to eat, or get out of bed. I would have moments where I genuinely thought I’d be better off dead. I’d have days where I would replay my life over and over, crying and wishing things could be different, staring at my reflection for hours on end, hating what I saw, and thinking everyone else hated me too.

I stayed in denial for quite some time, as if it was some kind of comfy blanket, because even though deep down, I knew I needed help, admitting that felt like I was just finding another thing that was wrong with me.

After many arguments, conflicts and so on with my family, they basically staged an intervention of sorts and insisted that I had to get help. I was mad as hell at the time, but it was the right thing to do.

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If they hadn’t intervened, this photo wouldn’t exist, and I never would have got to stand at the top of Blackpool Tower, feeling my model fantasy, because I probably would have died. Like not to be dramatic, but I honestly probably would have.

I made an appointment with the doctor, and it was an awkward affair. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, and I felt like I was coming across as one of those “whiney snowflake millennials” you read about in angry right wing newspapers, even though I’d always thought those articles were stupid. It’s funny, because I’m no stranger to mental health. Many people in my life have struggled with it, and I had no problem helping and supporting them, but the idea of it being something I now needed help with was very difficult to comprehend. I have always been someone who likes to do things themselves, and am quite independent and private, so suddenly having to let other people in and let them help me freaked me the fuck out.

I started a course of anti depressants, which didn’t do much for me, but I also started a CBT course that was very helpful (once I got past my hang ups about talking to strangers), and I was able to rationalise a lot of my fears, anxieties, and a lot of the things I’d been unable to process before, while also finding new ways to deal with my thoughts and feelings.

This was all, of course, quite a while ago, and while I do have moments of struggle every now and again, I am doing a lot better. I was inspired to write “Depression Is Not Real?”, not just by my own experiences, but by the constant shouting of “Depression isn’t real!” by people who tend to have very little experience of it. I know it’s a cliche, but to be honest, if you haven’t experienced it, it is hard to understand. Even I, as someone who had been around people who had dealt with depression for almost my whole life, found it very hard to truly understand it until I was in the situation, and even during that, I was confused as hell. I wanted to try and create something that explained my personal journey with depression, and how it felt for me, to try and explain the harsh realities of it, for those who simply refuse to believe it’s a real thing.

I began, as I often do, with a stream of consciousness. This is one of my favourite things to do when writing, as it allows me to draw out all the things I associate with a subject, and gives me a great starting point. It was quite a personal thing, so it was difficult to get everything together, but quite cathartic as well. I decided to personify depression, as personification is one of my favourite literary devices, but it also helped demonstrate how I felt. Sometimes, when I looked at myself, I saw another person, it was kind of like me, but like, a mirror universe version. Sometimes, the entire thing felt like self sabotage. My mind wanted me to be fulfilled, and happy, but it prevented that. That may not be the facts, I’m not a scientist, but that’s how it felt at the time.

Once I had a basic outline of the kind of themes and language I was looking to use, I started trying to edit down what I had, so that it was vaguely usable, and several edits later, I had the final product.

dinr.png

The final product.

Me as a final product? I’m doing okay. I have good days, I have bad days. I’m more open about my feelings, and it helps me to handle them better. When I say that I’m grateful for the support of my followers on social media, here on my blog, or anywhere else y’all like to hang out, I really mean it. Not just because your support enables me to do what I love, but also because when I was sitting in my room, staring at the walls and wishing I was dead, I never imagined that one day, I would have a community of friends to share my life with. Thank you, and please, today, and every day, look after yourself.

Besos,

J x


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps


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Love Lessons

His brow furrowed,

as his eyes,

that had seen and collected,

the wonders of the world,

fell to the floor.

He asked me,

why I wanted him.

 

 

 

I took the hands,

that had spent more nights,

alive and exploring,

than I had had days on the earth.

I told him,

that I wanted someone,

who knew how to love me.

 

 

 

He has loved me,

with tenderness,

with curiosity,

with ferocious passion,

that he thought he had lost,

and I know,

nobody else could love me,

the way he taught me I deserve.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps


RECENT BLOGS
Let’s Go To The Movies
An Open Letter To Miranda Larbi, In Relation To Unicorns

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!

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Neglected

“What have you gotten into this time?” He smirked at the voice as he opened his eyes and delicate fingers ran through his hair. “Or what have you gotten me into, princess.” He sank back into the pillows, thankful for the mercy of a comfortable bed, and noticed the restraints on his wrists. “You have been thorough, my love.” He whispered, trying to mask the pride and arousal in his voice as he looked up at his lover, a sweet smile spreading across her delicious, painted lips.

“I wanted to play.” Her sing song voice sent chills down his spine, and straight into his groin, as she fiddled with the bow that adorned the front of her dress. “You were being difficult.” He had been initially apprehensive of his girlfriend’s desire to take the lead in the bedroom, but he had to admit, he was enjoying what she had to offer so far. “But here you are.” Here he was, and he admired the effort she had gone to.

“My sweetheart always gets what she wants.” He muttered, aching for what lay under her clothes.

“You’ve been very bad.” She knelt on the bed beside him, her fingers still lost in his hair, pulling it slightly. “Bad, bad boy.” She released her grip on his hair and reached for the zip of his trousers, his whole body desperate for more.

“Anything you say.” He said, with the hint of a moan as she began sliding them down his legs, tortuously slowly.

“You promised me…” She whispered, playfully snaking a fingertip across the fabric of his underwear. He nodded, closing his eyes, with a smirk. She began rubbing his erection through his underwear, and he groaned in pleasure, wanting even more to touch her. “You said I could have whatever I want.” She said suddenly, removing her hand. He groaned in protest and opened his eyes.

“How am I meant to do that when I’m all tied up?” It seemed a reasonable question, but she pouted nonetheless, hitching up her dress to reveal what he desired most, covered in black lace. “Please, stop teasing me.” His voice was low and throaty, as his tongue ran over his bottom lip, and he pulled, in vain at his restraints.

“No.” She replied bluntly, removing the dress completely, to reveal even more lace covering even more things he desired. He groaned, fighting once more against the rope that bound his wrists, and crying out slightly as the ropes burned at his skin. “Bad boy.” She whispered, ripping open his shirt, with a surprising amount of ease. “You never get what you want.” She sunk down into his now naked chest, her soft hair tickling against his neck, as she ran her fingers up and down his erection. “Do you?” Her touching teases were driving him insane, but the intimacy of it all soothed him.

“Please?” She shook her head with a smile, releasing him suddenly and sauntering off the bed and out of the room. He sighed, watching her leave. “That girl of mine…”


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps

Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl

RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours
“The Bride Wore Blood” from Ladylike

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If I Could

The magic was in my head,

like the heaven of your heart,

that I thought belonged to me.

My woollen waiting,

unrewarded,

at another station,

in another stand off,

between my head,

my heart,

and my hurt.

Will I ever know,

why you,

unfashionable, irresistible love,

were unfashionably late,

and out of my reach,

and out of my life,

and out of my league?

If I could,

would I want to?

The mystery of you,

haunts my heart.


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps

Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl


RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours
“The Bride Wore Blood” from Ladylike

RECENT BLOGS
Let’s Go To The Movies
An Open Letter To Miranda Larbi, In Relation To Unicorns

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!

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Summer is on the way :)

Hola Amigos,

I hope you’re doing well. I’m so excited for summer, so below are some things I wrote, with a bit of a summery theme, to take my mind of all the rain here in England!

I hope you like them 🙂

Besos,

J x


IMG_2609

Baby Blue
Corpse Candy
Summer Of Love
Paraíso
The Importance Of Being Earnestly Yours
My Best Friend’s Baby
Forget You Nots
Never Say Die
Everything That Mattered
This Is Love
Birthmark


Baby Blue

Knife to my armbands,
lost in the lake of your love.
I rise as I fall.

Oh my baby blue,
I’m just drowning in your charms.
I live as you breathe.

-x-

Corpse Candy

My neurology is nasty,
and I’m taken by tremors,
as I’m tempted by your taste.
You’re the sweetest
sour faced sod I’ve ever known,
and I’ll pick your brain,
from your handsome head,
and save it for last,
so kuru carries me to the dreams of death,
and I can dine on you for a life time.
-x-

Summer Of Love

You, like the sun,
were blinding, ever present,
and as essential to me,
as you were stunning.

You stayed on my mind,
like a stone in my shoe,
but when I threw you to the ground,
you took my whole leg with you.

I glued you back, and we glided all summer,
Honda rides in the heat,
and an hour’s sleep if we could stand it.
I couldn’t stand not standing by you,
though I knew you’d break my heart,
I covered it up with candy floss,
as we found our way to the fair.

-x-

Paraíso

We paved the path to Paraíso,
with everyday extravagance,
you can’t find in a store.

One night with you,
and the lights our taxes pay for,
feels ethereal,
and the way I feel,
for you,
is scribbled on a tram shelter,
where we hide from the winds,
of a world that can’t stand us.

We work all week,
for Netflix, and negotiation,
of how much of the covers,
you can spare,
and how much of me,
I’ll share.

-x-

The Importance Of Being Earnestly Yours

I fell from the sky,
and my mission was my parachute.
How could my life end,
on arrival,
when I was born to be yours?

I tore off my past,
and my preset settings,
and didn’t hold my breath,
as I drowned in a fresh coat of paint,
to be yours.

Earnestly,
sincerely,
irrevocably.
I have spent so long,
building your dream,
that I’ve forgotten what mine was.

-x-

My Best Friend’s Baby

You mean less,
than you’d like,
and I like you,
more than I mean to.
If only I could
strip me
of the spell
you’ve dressed me in.

Sometimes,
you are behind me,
enveloping my waist,
and rationing my breath.
Every dandelion,
star,
birthday candle,
and evening hopeful countdown,
belongs to you,
though you belong to her.
I would wait
for the rest of my days,
to belong
to my best friend’s baby.

-x-

Forget You Nots

So many Septembers,
after our sordid summers,
each as precious,
and tempestuous,
and close to my heart,
as the last.

I kissed your lips,
a thousand times,
and you made me cry,
a million,
and I have cherished a billion smiles,
from the lips I loved.

I’ll forget a lot,
in my final days,
as I tend my forget-me-nots,
but you’ll follow me forever,
I’ll be happily haunted,
by the boy I couldn’t forget.

-x-

Never Say Die

Gee, it’s too bad,
you’ve found somebody new.
I hope you never leave.
The birds don’t sing for her,
and the stars stay,
surrounding where we used to lay.

Never sunrise,
I forgot the beauty of a starting day.
I hope you never stay.
Ours were born at ten AM,
Wine gums and strawberry shake,
brunch for the beaten down and broken up.

Does she tire
of the way you talk?
(Maybe I did?)
I hope you never say.
You’d repeat the same generic words,
and I’d smile real symmetrical.
You’ve kept walking,
but I’m the girl in a galaxy.

-x-

Everything That Mattered

My last words to you,
throb in my throat,
scratching and crawling,
to escape,
to reach you one last time.

I’m surrounded by suffocation,
and the ground is lava,
so I’ll leap into your arms,
and pretend we never parted,
then I’ll fall to the floor,
unable to reach the arms,
I’ll miss forever.

-x-

This Is Love

You remain unchanged,
I exist as fire.
I will burn.
I will roar.

You remain unswayed,
I exist as ice.
I will melt,
I will run.

You remain ashamed,
I exist as heart.
I will love,
we will love.

-x-

Birthmark

You are painted on my skin,
a mystery since my arrival,
that I’ve never solved,
but often trace,
when I’m alone.

White feathers weight,
on my weathered soul,
and I follow their path,
through the forest fire,
you’ve ignited in my heart.

I thought I’d been yours,
since I was sixteen,
broken down as you didn’t look my way,
cradled with Carl Wilson,
singing “God Only Knows”,
as I realised I always did.

-x-

Paraíso

We paved the path to Paraíso,
with everyday extravagance,
you can’t find in a store.
One night with you,
and the lights our taxes pay for,
feels ethereal,
and the way I feel,
for you,
is scribbled on a tram shelter,
where we hide from the winds,
of a world that can’t stand us.
We work all week,
for Netflix, and negotiation,
of how much of the covers,
you can spare,
and how much of me,
I’ll share.


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
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Be Lucky, Darling

The stars have told he’s a monkey,

but I know he’s scared of heights.

I still feel his frantic fingers clinging to mine,

as the sky welcomed us.

 

He shakes himself out, like a dog,

and tramples through the tide,

to fetch me from my fantasising.

 

The stars have told me I’m a sheep,

and though I’m soft, and sweet,

no dog shall be my master,

and I’d hoped never to run at one’s command.

 

The whistle whispers,

I resist running,

but I shudder, and I slither,

and I catch a train,

to have my taken man,

like the hypnotised snake he knows I am.


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Baby Steps
Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl

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“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours
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“The Bride Wore Blood” from Ladylike

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Dating, and new writing

Hola amigos,

I hope you’ve been well. I’ve been very busy, going on quite a few dates… with myself. I’ve been single for a while, to be honest, I’d like to be for a bit longer, but I missed things like going to dinner, or seeing a movie, and initially, I thought it would be lonely to do it by myself, but actually, there are a lot of benefits.

For a start, I’m paying for everything myself, so there is no pressure to give anything back (financially or otherwise)for the drinks or the dinner, and I can also wear what I want without there being a sense of entitlement from someone else, because I’m the only one there!

I can also get an ice blast at the cinema, and nobody can tell me that adults shouldn’t have them, because I’m the only one there and I don’t care.

I’ve been on quite a few cinema trips lately, and rediscovered how enjoyable it can be just to sit, and be absorbed by the universe of someone else’s creation. I normally watch movies alone, but I’m big on multi tasking, so I’ll be writing while watching, which can be a little distracting. A major upside to watching a movie alone, and without distractions is that I can see whatever I want. I spent a lot of time when in relationships having to compromise, because most people aren’t interested in horror movies, and mentioning subtitles would send most of my exes running for the hills, so it’s nice to be able to watch things I’m actually interested in.

In other news, below is some new work I’ve finished. I hope you enjoy it!

Besos,

J x


baby steps jennifer juan

No Idea Why

£19.92

Follow

The Two I’s

Damien’s Lament

Baby Steps

Before You

Told You

Freak

White Cliffs Of Dover

Straw

Yearbook

-x-

No Idea Why

I looked up, back down.

I’m fascinated by the fear that frequents our moments together.

No idea why.

I took a step, silent, ran back.

No.

I’m cornered by my curiosity, for the way that you could love me.

I’ve no idea why.

You shy away, just like me, though our hearts have done marathons.

One wrong move from a nervous mouth can ruin a good thing I suppose.

No idea why.

-x-

£19.92

Kicks away the blankets,

still covered with the prints of her producers,

her days are caught in crying,

because she belongs to the songs she sold her soul for,

the melodies are mocking,

and though the crowds sustain her day to day,

she is only alive,

at the edge of death.

-x-

Follow

Anything to be with you.

I’ll go where the trail of your heart desires,

melting at my core,

on an endless exploration.

Anything to burn with you.

Show me the jaw of the jungle,

let me sleep in it’s swallow,

axed by the acid that awaits me.

I’m not afraid,

to die for our journey,

lost to your longing for the universe.

Anything to breathe with you.

Take me to the highest point,

to the ends of the earth,

and into the sun,

to burn up,

at the very thought of you.

-x-

The Two I’s 

My hands are dead,

done with drawing deeds we never did,

and my heart is hardened,

from hearing what it cannot have.

I’m saved by my sanity,

until it leaves,

through the same door she did,

then I’m helpless to myself.

She said I was intelligent,

until I was “insane”.

I’m insane enough to wait my life for her,

and intelligent enough to make it art.

-x-

Damien’s Lament

She’s sleeping.

I watch her toss and turn,

my stomach does the same.

I’m sure her eyelids are a work of art,

and her fingertips are fondant fancies,

french tips, fit for my lips.

Her face is lonely,

without my eyes to keep it company,

the wonder of her waking,

is worth the risk of arrest.

-x-

Baby Steps

She stumbles behind us,

running to keep up.

We need to lose her,

so we can lose ourselves.

Nobody knows,

I’m not even sure I do,

but maybe we’ll know,

alone at the lake,

learning to kiss,

and learning to cry.

-x-

Before You

I’ve given up on giving you everything I had.

I’m picking up the pieces that I put on display,

you never understood them,

and you wouldn’t take a step into my gallery.

I glue the girl back together,

though she fights the skirts you sneered at,

and the pink lip you said wasn’t to your taste.

I place it on her mouth,

to decorate the long howls,

and dress her in all she has left.

I still paint by your numbers,

they add up to fuck all,

I have more troubles,

than your approval,

but I seek it,

every second.

I’m busy rebuilding the girl you left behind,

and the girl she was,

before you.

-x-

Told You

I told you I’m a liar,

but you didn’t believe a word I said.

You told me I was the only one for you,

and I told you I wasn’t for anybody.

Just say it if you want to,

and maybe I’ll figure it out along the way.

Spell it out, say syllables,

because I never learned to read.

Love me if you want to,

I won’t think any less.

I don’t really think at all,

but maybe that could change.

-x-

Freak

She’s uneasy on her feet,

and harsh on the world.

Her head is in the past,

that stabs and stands above,

no matter where she runs.

Would you believe her,

if she said a heart,

was fighting,

under that freak in teal?

-x-

The White Cliffs Of Dover

I’m on a cliff,

and on the sea floor,

in a moment,

if I want it.

I don’t hear Vera,

or love, or laughter,

just waves and wind,

and the rushing of my stillness.

Erode me to the air,

or save me from myself,

right now, it doesn’t matter,

and neither does what led me here.

-x-

Straw

He pulls on my hair,

he pulls on my nerves.

He presses his lips to the straw in his hand,

and all over again, I’m envious of inanimate objects.

My heels removed,

I’m a girl again.

I am blushy, I am mushy,

and I’m disgusted by my desire for him.

He’s drinking again,

as I drink him in.

I’m euphoric, and pathetic,

and I know that he loves it.

He touches my heart,

my hands and my lashes.

The world has stopped,

and only he can make it start again.

-x-

Yearbook

Voted most likely

to steal your elderly husband,

in my high school yearbook,

‘Cause I’m a vampire for vintage,

and I need that stale sweet blood.

I need some seasoned love,

because tomorrow’s man,

doesn’t factor into my future.

I want a face and heart,

with character,

and an earth of experience,

to impact upon my sun.

-x-


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Friday The 13th

Come cuddle my noir kitty cat,
every moment apart is unlucky,
break the old glass you’ve grown out of,
and walk under the ladder to my world.

I want the salt across the table,
where you rest your legs,
and smirking shoes,
after a long day of pointing at rainbows.

They say you’re no good for me,
but you’re just the jinx I’m looking for.
You’ve eluded me for too long,
and I’m ready to bed my bad omen.


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Baby Back There

You made a secret out of me

when you whispered what you wanted,

your lips lost in my lip gloss.

Another drink,

another night.

We’re timeless,

on a time limit.

I know you’re hiding secrets,

all over town,

but I’m thrown to the thrill of your inevitable infidelity.

Play me if you have to.

Play me when you want to.

Tell me, do I sound sweeter,

than the soundtrack you’ve been driving to?

You’ve got a baby back there,

but I just can’t stop myself.

My skin burns from the geyser of guilt,

as we’re dancing,

but all it takes is one more kiss,

one more drink,

and I’m soothed, and silent.

Backing away from the balcony of betrayal,

and praying the promises you made,

will keep you from toppling over the edge,

into an ocean of temptation.

Always addictive,

what lies beneath,

your next fix is floating in icy blue,

calling you down to play.

Lonely lies fill up your thoughts,

convince your conscience,

you’ve never been better.

You’ve got a baby back there,

and one here on the hook.

Don’t touch that line,

I want you tonight.


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
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Sincerely, Jennifer x


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Your body, and the hopefully happy adventures you can have.

When I was growing up, I focused on having a nice house, a career I enjoyed and maybe a pet turtle. Any kind of romantic relationship just wasn’t on my radar, and I’m not saying that as if ignoring relationships deserves a prize, I’m just being honest about my mindset, and the reality of who I am as a person. .

I never dated during school, and I only dabbled a few times during sixth form and university.

My inexperience wasn’t exactly that much of a problem, until I met someone who was interested in it, I was woefully unprepared for the entire thing. I didn’t really know how to act in a relationship, due to not having many to my name, leading to multiple awkward moments in which I expected far more than is usual, and sad moments in which I accepted far less than is usual.

I didn’t know what I wanted, and to be brutally honest, I only went out on the initial date because I was shocked someone asked me. Looking back, I can’t think of anything I even liked about him. I have a notebook full of random streams of consciousness in which I declared my undying love for him, but none of it makes it clear what I actually loved, and why I actually loved, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I was grateful that someone liked me, rather than in love. That’s fine, I suppose, but there were things that weren’t, which is the point of all this.

I don’t think he actually liked me. Now, when I say this, I don’t mean he disliked me. I just mean that he, as I did, didn’t have any specific things that turned basic attraction into love. I was young, naive, and very inexperienced, which I’ve now discovered is very attractive to a certain type of person, and I’m pretty sure he was that certain type of person. This isn’t a baseless accusation, because he told me so, in fact, that was one of the only things he could pinpoint when asked why he liked me, and naivety isn’t exactly unique to me.

I don’t think he liked me specifically, and the entire thing would have played out just the same with any young, naive and very inexperienced woman he successfully asked on a date. I think his attraction to me was based more on the idea of taking a blank canvas, and painting his desires onto it, than on anything about me in particular. That’s disappointing to my ego, and disgusting to the rest of me.

He knew that I was pretty clueless, he even asked me, quizzing me on how much I knew (fuck all, for those wondering) and giving me a long speech about his needs and wants, as well as reading material. No, seriously, there was a reading list of very specific erotica, that I didn’t particularly enjoy. Slightly off topic, but as a writer, I don’t understand the insistence on describing a woman’s bra size instead of her actual breasts. There are so many different kinds of boobs that can all fit in one bra, so bra size isn’t actually an indication of what kind of boob you are dealing with, and is honestly just poor writing. Maybe he just gave me poorly written erotica, which is even more insulting, really.

I didn’t know much about sexual relationships, consent, equality in relationships, or any of that essential stuff because it wasn’t covered in sex education, with only the logistics of actual sexual intercourse (for straight people only), and a short presentation on menstruation (with no freebies, I might add) making up my sex ed class. Just one class by the way. I was left to fend for myself in that regard, and a little paranoid about what was safe to google.

By the time I was brave enough to do proper research (it took half a bottle of wine and a telling off from one of my close friends), it was already too late. I didn’t realise until after the fact that it isn’t normal to be coerced into things you don’t want to do. Nobody told me that it isn’t normal to be pressured and rushed into things you don’t even understand, or might be afraid of. It was only after getting worried looks from my friends when discussing the subjects and having serious talks on what their own experiences were like that I noticed that I didn’t have to do half the things that kept me awake at night, hating myself. I thought it was expected, because nobody had told me that I could say no.

I still hate myself, sometimes. I look back on myself at that time and I hate, I hate so much that I feel like I’m burning, because I just want things to be different. I want for the girl I was to be different, and for her situation to be different.

I don’t know if it’s as serious as some things other people go through, but he still keeps me awake at night, for all the wrong reasons, and I just want to sleep. I’m not by any means on some kind of “all men are evil and their sexual desires are evil, and stop men” tirade, and I’m very aware that women are capable of this too, but this is not, in my opinion a “Men vs Women” issue, this is a “Everyone should have equal preparation and be able to protect themselves” issue.

This is something I’ve experienced, and something that I’m sure a lot of young people, both male and female may unfortunately experience, and it begins, because there are still places where the actual important details of sexual relationships aren’t taught. You might think it’s just the bible belt, and well to do boarding schools, but schools all over the world are neglecting to actually allow young people the full facts, and they grow up thinking that they shouldn’t question things at all, no matter how much their situation disturbs them. .

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, maybe just to remove it from my body, so I can think and breathe and find some kind of legitimate freedom from the mixture of guilt, anger and confusion that still follows me, despite people in my life having tried to “fix” me and erase what I went through.

All I will say, because I heard it too late, is please don’t let yourself feel pressured. Please don’t let someone make choices for you and push you to do things you don’t want to. I know that’s easier said than done, and I’m not sure why you should listen to me (I don’t even listen to me half the time), but if just one person does, that is one less person with the negative and fearful attitude I have to their own body and it’s many (hopefully happy) adventures.


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