You said I must eat so many lemons,'cause I am so bitter
I said "I'd rather be with your friends mate,
'cause they are much fitter"
- Kate Nash
Amanda always said she could tell my mood from the colour of my nails when we were fourteen and thought we were women. I always had red nails when I wanted to be choked by a man while piercing his skin with them and light pink when I wanted to have mai tais and feel sorry for myself. But now she says she have to take a sip of whatevers in my glas before she can tell. Apparently gin is a safe sign that I just bought new shoes and want nothing els than to sit alone in my library while wearing them and smoke. And wine.. well when I drink wine she assumes I need company; on the contrary to champagne which I only drink when I don't feel like talking (or if I happen to be at the opera).
And for the last cuple of days when I've been silent and absent, my nails have been dark purple and I've been pouring my mothers champagne bottles down my soar troath and thinking. David Bowies Heroes is on repeat. Can we really be heroes? Just for one day? Or are we all fucked up and miserable?