Six

Chicken Leg.

Honey.

Sugar.

Sweetie.

Sweetie-Pie.

Chocolate drop.

Candy cane.

Lollipop.

Sherbet.

Cookie.

Donut.

Terron de Azucar.

Sugar Cube.

Jam sponge.

Cutie pie.

Pickle.

Chicken.

Bon-bon.

Bomboncito.

Dumpling.

Caramelito.

Popcorn.

Jam Tart.

Why do all the nice names we have for each other come from things we put in our gobs?!?!?!?!?!?

I Wish I Was a Cat.

I wish I was a cat. Not necessarily the Cat in the Hat, one of the cast of the Andrew Lloyd Webber hit musical or Salem. Although I do love Sabrina. And ESPECIALLY not Leo the Zodiac Sign. Just a cat. An ordinary, run of the mill, bog standard, clean and simple, with a bow (a nice red one), pure breed, pedigree, show cat. Nothing complicated. I want to arch my back and rub myself against all the textures of my domain. I want to turn my nose up at the meal I am offered and walk away to return later and find one that better meets my expectations. I want to curl up in front of a fire all winter and on a sunny windowsill all summer, and thus be warm 365 days a year. Warm and toasty. I want to wag my tail and have everyone wonder whether it means I am quite content or just about to scratch your face off. I want to sneeze and enjoy the surprise of this occurance, to be genuinely shocked that I have made this sound. I want to select carefully the most inappropriate and inconvenient moment to enjoy attending nature's call, and make as much noise as possible covering it with those uncomfortable, little gravelly pieces I am provided with as a 'toilet'. I want to enjoy my control over every surface in the house, whether it be to curl up on in an almost invisible ball or sharpen my claws. I want to actually be able to curl up into a ball until I am almost invisible. I've tried and I can't. I want paws. It is so much prettier a word than hands. I want paw prints too. I want the power to make everyone feel slightly queezy as I cough up a perfectly formed ball of hair. And then with my paws that leave paw prints hit it around the floor, wagging my tail in enjoyment. I want legal drugs in the form of catnip that make me go crazy. I want everyone to think I have a perverted enjoyment of mice, fish and birds. And a fear of dogs, although it is all an act until I want you to know that they are in fact afraid of me. I want the ability to be truly indignant. And rude. I want to purr. I'd love to purr. To have a sound that I can make that means I am truly and honestly content. That I am not completely and utterly disappointed in you as a human being. Although I always am allowed to be a little. Because I'm a cat. Just a cat. An ordinary, run of the mill, bog standard, clean and simple, with a bow (actually I think I want a blue one), pure breed, pedigree, show cat. And I want to be able to do all of this without all of you thinking I'm weird because I am not actually a cat. I am a human being. Which in comparison to a cat is nothing. Hiss, purr, wag my tail and scratch the furniture.

Five.

Art by Yayoi Kusama

Imagine seing everything in red and white polka dots...

A logical (albeit slightly skeptical) pondering of the Zodiac.

Aries : I'm a ram. Which is a cool way of saying I'm a sheep. Which unless you are Welsh or a Kiwi is not cool... I follow the crowd. I don't think much. I'm warm in the winter until my skin is stolen to make people warm in winter. Wolves eat me. Not a very positive list really...

Taurus : I'm a bull. And the creative beings that analyse the zodiac always state one of my characteristics as bull-headedness... Stubborn. Grumpy. Rude. Slow. Quick to anger. Solitary. It sounds like a cheerful life being a bull. At least I'm not a cow. Or a sheep.

Gemini : Geminis can never be lonely. If there are two of me I can always keep myself company... right? I can always answer my own questions, argue with myself, make love to myself, torture myself, congratulate myself, punish myself... Or does that make me schitzophrenic?

Cancer : The most depressing sign of the Zodiac. Not only am I not quite as good as a lobster but I share my name with an often deadly disease that as of yet has no fixed cure. Or did the name of the disease come from the Zodiac sign... did crabs bring us cancer?

Leo : The lion. I'm a little smug really. King of the beasts. Royalty of the animal kingdom. Hair that Toni and Guy would be proud of. Oh OK... I'm an arrogant, vain arsehole who has been placed between a deadly disease and a slut that probably has some kind of infection as well!

Virgo : Why as a virgin am I always presented in quite revelaing attire? Traditionally it is Virgo the virgin... but it often appears more as Virgo the dirty, cock-teasing whore. And why is my name a combination of the words Virgin and Go...?

Libra : Why do I exist. I am the only zodiac sign that in the real world (ignoring the fact that centaurs and whatever the bloody hell Capricorn is don't ACTUALLY exist) has no life. I am a kitchen appliance. I am what you use to decide if the sugar weighs more than the flour...

Scorpio : The least creative of the zodiac. When considering my name, I took the name of my star sign animal and removed the N. If I were a dolphin I would be Dolphi. If I were a tiger I would be Tige. A snake would become a Snak and a chicken would become Chicke.

Sagittarius : An astrological advertisement for bestiality, I am what happens when humans mate with horses. And when their children are given dangerous weapons. I seem to be every parent's nightmare to present to their children. "Don't let them see that! It will give them bad thoughts!!!!!!"

Capricorn : I have no idea what I am. Some kind of unusual combination of a goat and a mermaid... It seems like the result of some disgusting, scientific experiment. I therefore am the Frankenstein's monster of the zodiac... The freak show. And my name is an unusual combination of Caprisun and Sweetcorn...

Aquarius : The water bearer. Forever carrying a jug of water and emptying it before carrying it and refilling it to carry it and empty it and then carry it so as to refill it once more... In this day and age when the majority of the world have plumbing you think the Zodiac would have caught on...

Pisces : Two fish swimming in a circle... Constantly. Never ending because their memories last only long enough to get once around the circle. By the time I get back to the beginning of the circle I forget I've done a circle and do it again. So as a star sign I'm going NO-WHERE!

How to see.

Look around you. Close your eyes. Listen. Listen and Hear. Hear and let what you hear make you feel. Feel and let what you feel make you think. Think and let what you think allow you to imagine. Imagine and let your imagination be what you see. And then open your eyes.

What do you see?

Four.

Monday.

Tuesday.

Wednesday.

Thursday.

Friday.

Saturday.

Sunday.

Just in case I forget which day comes next because I am so busy living in the moment.

Three.

Why settle for being the exclamation?

Be the question!

Two.

Why do I only seem to tell you what I don't really want you to know. All I seem to say are insignificant things, which mean nothing. It's not that I don't want you to know them. They are just insignificant. And that's all I seem to tell you...

The interior monologue of a needy, passive-agressive, push-over when being ignored.

I'm here. I always was. I always will be. Whenever you need me. Truly. I'm here. It's you who decides whether you want me to be or not.

...

Look. I'm not psychic. I can only guess what you are thinking from what you are or aren't saying. I can only guess how you are feeling from how you are or aren't being. No pressure. Just know that you can speak to me. Whenever you need to you can speak to me, but you will have to actually speak to me.

...

Seriously, I have no idea what is going on inside your head or anything. I'm trying to work you out but i really have no clue. I'll guess, and I'll guess wrong. I can't read thoughts! So if you don't want me to guess wrong - FUCKING TELL ME!!!!!

...

Sorry about that.

...

No wait, I'm not sorry. Fuck sorry. That's it. That is fucking it. Fuck you. Fuck off. I don't give a fucking shit about anything related to you. I fucking don't. Not a shit. A fucking shit. Don't fucking talk to me then. I don't fucking care.You're full of shit anyway. FUCKING SHIT. Just fuck off. I don't give a fuck what you think. I don't give a fuck how you feel. Fuck your thoughts. Fuck your feelings. And FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!

...

If you ever need to talk, I'm still here... sorry... if you need to... whenever...

One.

I am in a refacebookship. We argue. We make up. I can't stop thinking about you. From the moment I wake up to the moment my eyes close at night. You are in my thoughts. Always and for ever.

Awakening

Photography by Sr Pablo Boutou / Editing by Jordan Simms

When does it all start?

The knowing. The thinking. The understanding. The enjoying. The fearing. The hearing. The listening. The sharing. The opening and the closing. The running away. The fighting. The crying. The dying. The losing. The winning. The pretending to win so as not to lose face. The laughing. The smiling. The pondering. The wondering. The wondering why the word pondering is in your vocabulary. The singing. The dancing. The loving. The hating. The hating because there is too much loving. The protesting. The procrastinating. The pretending and the honestly not pretending. The acting. The flirting. The showing and the telling. The growing. The changing. The being.

The awakening.

Do we awaken when we are born? Or is it when we come of age? Is it every morning we awaken? Or does it happen only once in our lives? Do we awaken alone?

This is my awakening. Age twenty. 2011.