ABOUT JAMES BRIDLE:::
things u made me thought
When i was 16, doing my GCSEs, i consistently had this weird anxiety dream.
I’d be in a car, burnt out chassis; metal and leather stripped bare, no roof, no windscreen. Like in Simpson’s hit & run when you smash up ur car too much, go too far get too carried away with hitting and running. And it’s just a black metal frame, wheels scraping up the tarmac behind you as you go.
I was in one of those; sparks flying as i hurtled down a sand dune.
the scene is sand and sky, endless sky no clouds.
i didn’t scream as i hurtled. I only sat, and blowing through my hair (my hair was long back then, so this was a more dramatic kinda imagery) theatrical like a lana del rey music video;;; sand blowing in my eyes, i would squint as it hit, raise my right hand to my brow and salute/shield the sun;;; the sun and the sand, the sky and the wind.
i never stopped hurtling down the sand dune in my unstoppable juggernaut. I’d never reach the bottom of the endless sand dune. the wheels never gave out, my left hand would never leave the wheel, not once.
I am not quite in control of my own body u kno.
I am not quite completely in tune, clumsy in a clumsy unromantic way.
I am too gangly to dance; too short to look the way i want to while i’m sitting down on the tube; my legs always fall asleep when i’m sitting on chairs for too long,,, even if they’re uncrossed; my ankles click approx every 5 minutes; this january i tried to start running, but i got sciatica pains; a reiki practitioner told me i had incredible mental and psychic ability but my body was frail and wilting, i had a magnesium deficiency but the ability to full-body-empathise. since then, i’ve wondered if the former is a product of the latter. i keep getting stomach aches, but in different places; and the gut is a mystery! i bet we know more about the ocean than the gut.
i have often felt like a guest in my own body. every few weeks i tweet about how i wish i wasn’t held captive in this flesh, this prison (of sorts, it’s also not that deep). i say: “i wish i was a ghost! a narrator! a disembodied voice!”, and again, my G, it is not that deep. but it like also kinda is. i AM a guest in my body. when i was 18 i was ~6 1/4 stone (i think i think), i didn’t really eat and when i did, it mostly came back out upwards. It was a weird time, a weird feeling, i felt like my skin was not my own, my body was not my own. i don’t know why it happened, still, i can’t locate where it all came from. I still feel it sometimes, when i put food in i feel like that advert for constipation when the woman is just emptying plates of food into her handbag looking disgruntled af. it can feel like carrying dead weight, an extra leg around with u; kinda wrong and alien like something is sitting inside u that shouldn’t rly be there. I watch youtube videos about skincare bc it reminds me i'm attached to something.
3 months ago, the scene of my old anxiety dream returned.
no car this time, but the same sand dune, same sun, same sky, same wind.
My boyfriend’s hair and beard was dyed a dusty blonde. I was blonde also.
sand, hair, sun;; all were one all were in tandem, bleeding into each other; all the same colour as OG timbalands.
He was f**king me from behind on the same sand dune;
When i told him about this dream, i didn’t tell him i’d been there before without him, that i knew that desert well.
he said “that sounds so cinematic, jaan! did u eat any cheese before bed?”
I half listened to James Bridle’s words. I was reminded of when i read Aliens and Anorexia and it gave me a vocabulary with which to speak about that period of my life. I was thinking about how my mum thought I had a tapeworm, not an eating disorder, lmao. it felt like it fit, like my mind was singing along to the backing track of his words. isn’t that what that’s meant to do?