Monday, 31 July 2017

Siri Ghosted Me During Today's Breakdown - Like, There Was An Actual Ghost In My Siri.



All I wanted to do was show you my boots but Siri had other plans and now I'm going to leave myself over-exposed online oh dear like I've never done that before. WHEN will the big blackout come and erase all of the internet? I'm waiting. But before that, here's this .. the mustard boots on the left were bought on eBay about 12 years ago, wow time flies when you're not having fun. These mustard ones clop like there's no tomorrow. They're the heaviest boots I own when I need to be REALLY tough like stomp into the cancer ward demanding a bed for my stepdad. Who died in the bed I demanded him to be in. I also wore them the day I was discharged from the maternity ward and my sister drove me straight down to the cancer ward where my ex-husband was dealing with cancer so awful the doctor told him to put his affairs in order. Which he did, he's in Greece at the moment. What are these boots, fucking cancer boots?

The next ones are my red ones from New York and people always always comment on them, probably because of the lipstick red colour. They're my strength boots. They look sad in this pic because they're sad, still recovering from my friend Dans funeral whereupon I wore a black clingy dress showing my cleavage and I was all "Sorry Dan but today I'm #sluttypallbearer in a black dress and red boots with NO stockings." He would have approved. Especially when I walked his wife aka Megan down the long driveway following the stupid hearse. Hate the word hearse, too hearsey. There's still funeral in my red boots which I have to walk off. I will because they're one one of my favourites but they'll always remind me of that day we had to say friggen goodbye too early.


The ones next to my red ones are my poetry slam boots standing straight and tall waiting for my next poetry slam. I don't know how long they'll be waiting. I bought them in 2014, the year after my brother died and everybody close to me were scurrying to help but I ran away. Wish I could run back. His death took me away from everything safe.

Last ones on the right I have no idea where they came from they just appeared and feature in my blogheader. Jeff my photographer neighbour snapped that photo with my feet slung out my window defeated. Someone said to me "Eden you can tell you're off your face in that photo just not giving a fuck" and I said "Hey, I wasn't giving a fuck ... but I wasn't off my face! Just defeated." The boots are made from Mexican cowhide and I've trashed the toes I don't know how. I just trash shit.

There's a pair missing from this photo ... my beloved Africa boots I wore in Africa which had Africa dust on them. But I needed a new pair and have vowed to not keep getting pair after pair like Imelda because I've only got two fucking feet. So I sold them ... to a woman with the coolest style who came to my door and loved them instantly, took them away so you know what time it was? New boot time. Not just any old new boot time but NEW BOOT TIME I NEED NEW BOOTS IMMEDIATELY. I used the money from my Africa boots to buy these ... my favourite boots of all time, sorry all you other boots I'll still wear you! These babies are distressed black like me. Also featuring raised gold brocade with wings and crosses and silver stitching in there as well.


The furtherest I've worn these boots so far is out on my balcony to take this photo. Do these boots know I'll be ok anyway? Do they know where they'll take me, who I'll meet, and what I'll be doing in them? Are they magic? (Yes.) Do they make me feel .... something better? (Yes.) I haven't walked up to the bakery in these boots or gotten up to no good in these boots or walked in Athens in these boots or run across the road during a red light light in these boots. I don't think I'll be arrested in them, these boots for they mean no harm. They're good boots. Protective and hugging my massive feet, whispering me on, telling me they don't even NEED spurs they're that good already.

So that's my boot story but today didn't end there, today still hasn't ended. This afternoon is better than this morning when I posted this on instagram stories because so help me GOD I can't pretend and will rabbit on until the great big blackout how important it is to share our shit pain on social media too, not just our good/fun/holidays/newclothes/happyhappyjoyjoy




IMPORTANT NOTE: I have washed the sad out of my hair since that video a couple hours ago. I wish I didn't feel so deeply but I do, my mood has incrementally gone up about two degrees but I'm fucked. There's no mo in my jo, my get up and go got up and left, let's start a conversation around mental health OK KIDS AND THEN WHAT PEOPLE ARE WAITING. (I'm so going to regret posting that vid so I'll say I don't give a shit but I really do. Sucks to be but I'd hate to be you.)

Ever ask Siri stupid shit? Like:

"Siri are you happy."
"Siri what time is love."
"Siri what's the point of existence."
"Siri I'm so sad what are my options."
"Siri what are you thinking."
"Siri I'd like to speak to the person in charge."

This morning I said "Siri I miss my sons." Because my sons are in Greece with their dad and his girlfriend and her three kids. But Siri kept replying that she doesn't understand "Siri I miss my songs." I kept saying "Siri I miss my SONS" and three times she said said she didn't understand "songs" until I yelled at her "SONS!!! SIRI I MISS MY SONS NOT MY SONGS YOU STUPID FUCKHEAD ROBOT YOU WOULDN'T KNOW WHAT MISSING YOUR SONS EVEN FEELS LIKE."

She must have sensed my ire because she finally got it even though she still asked if she could search the web for "missing my sons."




Immediately, IMMEDIATELY after Siri answered with the above, a random son (omg best typo ever) started playing on my phone. I didn't recognise the song. But the song was playing, I didn't ask Siri to play the song but the song? Was amazing to hear right in that moment with the lyrics oh my goodness. I cocked my head to one side (cock lol) and kind of acknowledged who or what put the song on. Because it wasn't me and it wasn't Siri. There was a ghost in the machine .. I wondered which ghost put the song on there's a lot to choose from. (Ghosts, not songs. Siri, I have too many ghosts what to do.)

Hey before I tell you what song it was I need to take this juncture to say: thank you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not replying to messages in all social media areas, particularly email. I'm sorry if you're waiting for a poem that will come to you - it was nearly worth a lot of money there at one point. I'm sorry for not replying to your thank you's and your pain and everything anyone has ever said it's just I haven't been waving I've been drowning. With boots on. And thank you for resonating and seeing you when you see me. Most times I am the biggest ghost in the machine of all. I don't like social media anymore but some of us have to show our fuckedness - it's important.

The song was "Gotta Be Better" by Shelby Lynne, with such lyrics like: "Been chasing my tail for years Flying by running from terror and fear Time to think clearly for the place I've been holding out for My feet are getting wetter It's gotta be better over there."




"Press home to unlock" Ha. Exactly. Help. Go away. Where's my person. Where's home. Where do I take a flat tyre. I'm scared .. aren't you if not why? I've never ever heard this song in my life until this morning so thanks Siri, thanks new boots, thanks Instagram people, thanks this life will not go on forever, thanks for the day I see my sons again, thanks for the kettle and the cup of tea, wish I was better but for now I'm just me.

Off to do writing on My Other Writing Thing because these posts are just snippets, I've held most things in my life back on here but now they're pouring out. The most frightening filthy raw awful beautiful sublime keep-walking-in-your-fucking-boots writing ever. So embarrassing. So needed.

I know you hate new music but seriously, turn this shit UP. It ghosted me, maybe it wants to ghost you too.




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