A serious case of 'My Head May Explode'

i would like to stop dreaming about The Move. Its beginning to drive me more than a touch mental. It is obviously a highlight of how many things are racing through my head. Last night I dreamt I arrived with all my things and Arnar wasn't there and I couldn't get in and didn't know what to do with my kerzillion bags. I also dreamt that I told my mum all about my debt in extreme detail.

I am worrying about the money. Quite substantially. I have not been able to put away as much as I imagined I would do. This is a combination of the wages down here being much less than I first figured, the fact I have been going to London to see the Fox and that things I have had to buy/pay out for costing more than first imagined.

How do I whisk up an extra £1,000 or so in the next 4 weeks? fuck knows. all answers on a stamped self addressed envelope please. I am ebaying most of clothes which is becoming a tad distressing.

Additionally I am trying to tackle the list of things I have to do, I have applied for my social security number, I haven't booked my flight, I have sorted out my phone contract here, I haven't started packing, there are many many things on the to do side of the list still.

Leaving the Fox is becoming vomit inducing. I sat watching her perform at Goldsmiths the other day, just her and her guitar on stage, in front of a relatively noisy audience who did on the whole shut the fuck up when she played which they didn't for most of the other acts.

The first song she played was what she wrote me for valentines. 'Affair with another city'. She stared right at me accross the masses as she sang with that voice which Svenni says makes you 'want to crawl into her skin to get so close to'.

No one has ever done anything like this for me. On top of that I had another one of those sweeping moments of awe which fill from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Beautiful and strong stood there on her own yet so incredibly fragile I wanted to build a shell around her.

This I am leaving. Fuck my stupid timing. Fuck it up its fucking arse.

But on the other hand I am not leaving. This will only be the forth relationship in a row for me which requires planes to see each other. Ho hum. Here we go again. Its hard but doable. It is just making what was something I have wanted for so long tinge truly bittersweet.

So yes, upshot is, I am half headless chicken trying to get things done and find money somehow, whilst also being half ostritch and burying my head in the sand because I dont want to think about the harsh reality.

Wack.