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friendly neighborhood bog witch.

piningpeaks
Joined May 2024
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black ford.

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someone called me the doll of all dolls.
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the crème de la doll.
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and don't get me started on the bootleg tees, the tatty gig posters n every other tom, dick n harry suddenly claiming they were there from day dot.
anyway, nirvana still comes on n suddenly i’m no use to anybody for the next four minutes. just sat there, gormless, letting some 90s feedback rearrange my internal furniture. the bloody nerve of a song being that old n still knowing where to stick the knife.
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the man's been turned into a whole cottage industry, hasn't he? meanwhile i'm still here replaying the same three tracks like a daft sod. no cure for this particular affliction, i'm afraid. just let the record crackle.
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anyway, nirvana still comes on n suddenly i’m no use to anybody for the next four minutes. just sat there, gormless, letting some 90s feedback rearrange my internal furniture. the bloody nerve of a song being that old n still knowing where to stick the knife.
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cobain’s got a permanent room in the back of my head, rent-free n making a right racket.
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low-lit, high-strung, lovestruck.
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i’m a sucker for these odds n sods, the blurry bits, the offcuts, the ppl who know my whole sorry catalogue of misdemeanours n still save me a seat. no grand revelations or whatnot.
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paris, somewhere between a greasy little bistro and the sort of after-hours palaver that’d make the vicar clutch his pearls. escargot on the table, old mates in the flash, a few loose ends dangling off the evening.
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i like my coffee how i like myself. bitter & cold.
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anyway, if anybody needs me i’ll be somewhere between the frozen aisle and a very niche identity crisis. please address all future correspondence to miss potato, esq. x
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also the chap accompanying me deserves some sort of agricultural commendation. man’s been fraternising w/ root vegetables all night and hasn’t once questioned his life choices. a rare specimen of human patience, that one.
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my publicist has advised me against further potato-related appearances but i fear t starch lobby has alrdy got its hooks in me. spent the ve being passed around lyk a novelty at a county fair. @ the lil tater tot comun, m one of u now. spud solidarity till the wheels fall off.
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the funniest part is having photographic evidence of an entire evening in which i was, by all reasonable definitions, a walking jacket potato with a septum piercing. there’s no dignified way to explain this to future generations and frankly i shan’t be attempting one.
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🕊️
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forever our Professor X, forever the voice in the room reminding us that gentleness and conviction can occupy the same breath. i’m so glad i got to exist in your lifetime. rest easy, sir.
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we’ve lost sir patstew, one of the greats, and somehow the world feels a little less extraordinary without you in it.
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there’s a particular ache in knowing that the man behind so many formative stories is no longer here to make new ones. but what a body of work to leave behind, what a life to have lived, what an extraordinary professor you were.
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