The First Noted -

ear worms - the word versions.

Noted. A series of Notes on nothing in particular. Some direct observations, others fragments of fiction that breeze into my brain. Words found drifting by my mind during sleepless midnights, steady rhythms of rail journeys and everywhere in between. All of them refusing to be ignored until they are committed to paper.

I’m trying to make writing a habit for my broken brain and challenging myself to up the frequency (vibes, posting, all of it). I came up with Noted.

An outlet to try things without my ego / inner critic banning me from ever hitting publish on a proper post containing them. Because notes are the seeds that we sow, where good things always start, right?

I met your boyfriend yesterday. I want to say he was au fait, just because it’s a phrase that sounds like it just suits his character. Charming, in a very British sort of way. A golden haired sun beam on the drab grey streets of London. I can see why you loved him.

Somewhere in the ascending, I forgot to look down.

At my home town, the place where I’m from.

The measure of who I’ve become.

I got too high too fast, slipped back off the sunset, fell to the floor.

I didn’t know what happened until I saw the blood soaked handkerchief dripping with my hopes and dreams.

My life seems to consist of chaotic streams of thought and increasingly chaotic oceans of notebooks. They will all never make sense. Not shown - the little black book that lives in the bedside crate that houses the stories, demons, hard truths and outright lies whispered in my ears on the hinterlands of one day and the next.

I fall asleep to the sound of the shadows of past dreams falling on my pillow.

Cyan blue pools of information litter the side of the motorway. Portals to onwards destinations.

- Noted whilst travelling south on the M6, somewhere after Manchester and before Birmingham.

If you know someone who would like to read some fairly nonsensical (but oddly charming) words caught from the space around my head, hit the share button!

I search in your pictures for little pieces of me. Was I ever there? Did you ever care? Or am I a shadow of something imaginary, just fragments of life, I spent all my time, wanting and trying to be on your mind.

Now those times are done, the battles hard won, my life is over there

but here

it’s just begun.

You should have known me, before I died. I was fun and courageous and articulate and kind. Now not sure where I am most days. Somewhere between functional and humorous I suspect.

Yellowing pages, a many lives lived scent. I swim through the words on the page as much as read them, for their sentences make as much sense as some strange tidal current washing over me.

- Noted whilst attempting to read Mrs Dalloway