Hay Bae #7 - Jen At Home
Hay Bae, you good?
Spent a bit of this morning researching how to best look after my plants. I've had plants before, but these 2 babies are really gorg' and I want the best for them. I'm ashamed to admit to you that I have often neglected my plants in the past. My old philosophy used to be - if I'm depressed & want to stay in my room with all the curtains closed for most of the day, then so should my plants. I think deep down I was hoping they would adapt to be more like me, but it just never happened. They died. Not anymore though - I am reborn. So, I've got this "String of Pearls" bad-boy, and he dangles down from the bookshelf. I keep calling him a "string of beads" cos he reminds me of anal beads. Not sure what to name him officially yet, because I always rush into these things. Instead, I'm going to let him grow and express his personality & then figure out which name suits him best. Or, if he figures out human speech he can name himself. Bet he doesn't though, the layabout. My other one is a fern. I don't know what sort of fern, but a ferns a fern right? Wrong. Mine is a special gal. She shits on all other ferns & if you even think of comin' for that crown, you're gonna get wrecked. I learned that she needs a spray-spray every day-day. Pearly Boy is some sorta cacti fuck-boy & is only sippin' on the weekly. I care for them greatly, and I've been floating the idea with them that we might get another plant in soon.
I'm going to go for a walk along the canal today. Yeah, I live by a canal now - like some sorta cool canal boat operator. You know, I mainly associate canals with childrens TV, or dirty punks. I reckon the latter is on account of all those dirty punks that used to hang around Camden Lock when I was 16. They'd shout at the sensitive grungers & goths, and spit upon them. I bet it was them who burned down the market (I have no actual evidence to support this theory, but someone has to take the fall & who better than someone who doesn't give af about society, yeh? Fuk markets, fuk the establishment, fuk Bill Grundy & fuk the Cutty Sark en'all). Also, my house burned down when I was a kid (true) and I'm pinning that on the punks as well.
Do you remember Camden? It used to be a real thing when I was a teen. We used to bop down there, with our child travel-cards, going in all the expensive t-shirt shops where the staff were so rude to you it was actually fun. I remember once we bought "beedie cigarettes" and smoked them by the canal, so we were well cool & pretty dangerous tbh (did I mention I had a patch which said "People = Shit" on it?) We'd get some patches, get some grunger chains, get some noodles from the food market & then get diarrhoea. What a time.
One thing I'd forgotten about living away from home, is that you find out what sort of a person you actually are. Over the past year, I haven't really been myself - I've been "Jen at Home", and that is a different sorta gal. For example, I was paying rent when I was at my dads, but my dad would do the weekly shop - so my diet consisted mainly of - what my dad thinks vegetarians eat. A lot of Quorn as it happens. No big deal, I like Quorn. I'm not ungrateful (well, the "Jen at Home" me isn't - the "Jen at Hackney" me is a real fucken bitch). Jen at Home eats in front of the tv on a tray, watching The Simpsons. Jen at Hackney eats silently & alone while either reading a book, or contemplating existentialist ideas (see, told you Jen at Hackney was a real piece of shit).
It's too soon to truly tell what sort of a person "Jen at Hackney" is, but I'll try to keep you updated of all changes & developments.
Anyway, was fun gabbin' with yer (Jen at Hackney says "gabbin" btw). I'm gonna go for a walk now along the canal. Be good, look after yerself and tell all your friends how beautiful, amazing, smart & funny I am. Safe. Same time tomorrow? Bye!