notthesixties

charlotte

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SPAT by notthesixties, literature

Literature

SPAT

This morning I am ready if you are by the bike sheds waiting for me with a chain and a knife and a lighter fired up with smoke I broke my teeth here last year and smashed my palm on yours you spat until you couldn't taste me and cut my hair with a pen knife just a tuft, said it'd remind you of the ways in which you wouldn't break and there's a scar on my hand now a dent in the skin where your tooth went in and I smudge it on the windscreen when I'm driving past the places we used to break things and I'm ready, I'm ready if you're here or not.

WARDROBE by notthesixties, literature

Literature

WARDROBE

Oxfam was calling out my name in green lilting tones, so I finally unstuck the doors, counted the rooms, collected piles of books. I caught flu from the boy that sells potatoes on the market so my face was as beige as the kitchen counter and I couldn't leave the house because I was going to contaminate the neighbours. Your neighbours were important people, I didn't want to threaten international treaties. I ate vegetarian lasagne for breakfast and grapefruit for dinner. I worked my way through the fridge using a different system every day. One day I decided to eat everything that was red: jam, the wax around three babybels, beetroot, cherrie

Byzantine Baby by notthesixties, literature

Between the Wars by notthesixties, literature

Literature

Between the Wars

There is too much pepper in my food. It's summer and I'm sneezing by the window. The heating's on but I know that it's cold. I'm cold, girl alone, afraid, used to it. The phone hasn't been disconnected yet. I hear the faint beeps, but I expect that it will peal out once more, noisy, too loud. My hands are as ghostly as you sound when you call. It's midday. There's no post at all. I've seen the postman weave through gates across the road. We've still got a long way to go. I sent flowers to your mother. They were red. They were towers of pollen and water. One night I woke up outside. I was blue, but the kitchen was on fire. I'm

peasoupers by notthesixties, literature

Literature

peasoupers

There were scarves of every shade of brown. My cheekbones were scratched with wool. Every playtime was a masquerade ball. I didn't have a key, but the door was open when nobody else was home. Sometimes I could barely find the gate. We were skinny things. I remember queues for concerts, queues outside butcher shops, lines of overcoats that you only discovered by edging along the people swaddled in yellow fog and coughing, coughing, turning over slices in their hands.

David, I'm in your blood by notthesixties, literature

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7' by notthesixties, literature

Literature

7'

A-side The guitar is only that: a neck with strings just about jangling in time and a hand smoothing over them that jerky voice almost sounding like a smoker's and he's never held a box of matches. The vocal no, he doesn't remember laying it down but there's a photo of him on the floor resting, the mic stand nestled in his arm. There's a cymbal in the intro and he can hear himself clapping finds his girlfriend singing a bassline the one he left out in the end – B-Side He never even plays the single all the way through. He'd need to get up to flip it over, would need to wonder. "break this record" it says. But he remembers e

Girl Alone by notthesixties, literature

public transport by notthesixties, literature

Literature

public transport

and the morning was not as you had thought pigeons scattered above your head the fog too much like dust, your adjusting eyes dull before the noisy cars and god you could just leave it just walk away, almost stumbling under the railway bridge watching all the buses pass you as you walk not even knowing where you're going but it's still morning and that's the only reason you have but it's all you need to keep on walking into every sigh of every dirty mist

Playground Blues by notthesixties, literature

Literature

Playground Blues

I climbed the fence, knowing you were just behind, following me. I emptied my pockets dropped tissues, 10p, a letter from my school. Heard your breathing as you did the same, pulled the jumper over my head and let it fall. You prised your shirt off, though it was November and we sat on plastic seats I didn't speak to you couldn't tell you from the crashing chains, as we slid through the air seconds from unison. I hit the ground, my hands pink from cold. I realised you'd gone home and I was swinging alone.

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WARDROBE by notthesixties, literature

Literature

WARDROBE

notthesixties

About notthesixties

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Artist // Literature

United Kingdom
Deviant for 17 years
pomegranate.me.uk
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Ipswich
Favourite genre of music: indie rubbish
Favourite photographer: i like hel-looks and facehunter and photographs of train stations
Favourite style of art: I like illustration, painting, messthetics.
MP3 player of choice: i don't have one.
Personal Quote: "it's all gone a bit j alfred."

Favourite Visual Artist

i like old russian icons, klimt, henry darger, joseph cornell, tracey emin

Favourite Movies

my beautiful laundrette, in bruges, clueless

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

los campesinos!, the wave pictures, the magnetic fields, kenickie, the mountain goats

Favourite Writers

luke kennard, frank o'hara, glyn maxwell, virginia woolf, bernadette meyer, elizabeth bishop

Favourite Games

scrabble

Tools of the Trade

wordpad

Other Interests

reading, writing

Posts

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notthesixties

Jul 13, 2008

hey

0 min read

i haven't posted here for a while, but i've left school now and finished my a levels and shit, so i'm not really doing much at the moment. i'll put a couple of poems that i'm still working on up. in case any of y' are still interested, four of my poems are up here > http://web.mac.com/thecadaverine/Site/Poetry/Entries/2008/6/10_Charlotte_Geater.html ! ooh last summer i posted music that i'd been listening to from the summer before and compared it. it was very different, so i'll do it again... last summer i was listening to: 1 The Indelicates     2 The Thermals 3 Bruce Springsteen   4 The Magnetic Fields   5 Esiotrot   5 Someone Still

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notthesixties

Feb 8, 2008

half term

0 min read

no school for two weeks now! ooh it's exciting... one week's half term and then the week after that i'm going on a poetry course in shropshire. it's going to be awesome awesome, i hope. i haven't been writing too much recently (although i've written more than i've posted here, i don't put many things up here anymore, as you can see)... hopefully this will change before the course, and if not then when i'm on it. i leave school in about three months. scary.

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notthesixties

Jan 4, 2008

2007, the year punk broke (my heart)

0 min read

oh, how i love los campesinos! i haven't updated here in aaages. so not that much is going on with me at the moment... mainly boring university/school stuff. i should be starting an english BA at oxford this autumn but i still need to get AAA in my a levels so it's a bit premature to start planning that in detail... looking forward to it though :). www.pomegranate.me.uk has got its second issue up now, and we're taking submissions for issue 3. i urge you to take a look - there's some pretty ace poetry in this issue and some great articles and if you're under 30 and write either then pls to be submitting to us. we take art submissions too, a