| Xmas and the shit-storm that comes with it. |
[13 Dec 2009|09:40am] |
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mood |
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 sore |
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....Don't get me started. For cerealz.
However, I will post my current mini' Xmas playlist, because the festive period is upon us and people the world across are contemplating suicide.
Now don't get me wrong, I have an arse-load of Xmas songs, both British and Yankish and as many parodies, but this is the miniature version, which for the most part manages not to be festive, whilst being festive.
I don't know if Americans know much about British Xmas music like Slade, Wizzard, Band Aid, and that crap, but at the very least I think most Brits born in the last forty years have a soft spot for Wizzard's "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday" and Slade's "Merry Christmas". As we've all grown up with them, and in hindsight, Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Xmas Time" and the like are naff and too clean.
Anywho; clicketh
Also, as always, Foamy brings the lulz -
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| Yesterday, Live. Now What? |
[17 Nov 2009|02:01am] |
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mood |
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Empty |
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music |
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Scrubs. |
] |
Like I said to Jasmin over the weekend, I've now accomplished my life goal, so now I have nothing to do. Some people punch for the stars; they want a good career, long-lasting relationship, a happy family, whatever, something life-long. But that's not how I roll.
But now... now what is there to do?
In related news, hot girls swearing is apparently.... hot. Worryingly so.
I'm reading a book about BPD and it's really interesting and... less-isolating. Without bigging my personality up, I like to think that I'm empathetic. If something it wrong with someone, if someone has a grievance, if someone is ranting, venting or just thinking about things, I understand their problem. I see where they're coming from, I can see a problem from both sides. All that shit.
Discombobulated rants always make sense to me, like I've said before, I've spent so long on the outside looking in, I'm good at reading people, understanding them, second guessing them.
But people rarely understand me, I say, "XYZ" but people hear, "123". But this book is telling me who I am, it's explaining myself to me, it's telling me that when I say, "XYZ", what I'm saying is "XYZ". It makes me feel less alone.Less like an alien, don't get me wrong I still always feel deeply alienated and like I don't fit in, but now I know that people think like I do.
And it's comforting.
ETA:
I keep having disturbing drems. And by that I mean, everytime I remember I dream I've had, it disturbs me.
On Saturday night/Sunday day I had a dream and it just made everything click in my head in terms of what I want out of a relationship... and it worries me. And it would explain why I keep spooning my pillow.
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| The Words of A Morose Motherfucker. |
[06 Nov 2009|06:37pm] |
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mood |
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morose |
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music |
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Tegan and Sara - Arrow. |
] |
It’s easy, being a morose motherfucker.
Especially when you have plenty of time to think, when you get to limp home in the rain. Not that I have anything against the rain, I just don’t need to walk around in it for an hour in short-sleeves.... well sometimes, but that’s besides the point. My life is starting to resemble a game of Trivial Pursuit, not because it’s all about pieces of pie, but because it’s made up of the pursuit of the trivial and inane, the pointless and the hollow.
And I’ve come to realise that no one really knows me. They just think they do, stupidly I pander to their illusions. I nod, I smile and continue to let them believe that I’m someone they know.
I know how people think, I know their next move before they do, I’m rarely wrong. Yet no one knows how I think, no one can see through my subterfuge like I can theirs. I sit, walled in, claustrophobic and alone. My life skips and bumps like a needle on a record whilst their lives play out, school, career, maturity, happiness, one step after another and they walk through their lives, full down the path until the end.
I know because I watch them, fingers tracing over the smooth window-pane in front of my eyes, step after step, their time-cards get punched, aspirations getting ticked and crossed off. Mine lays gathering dust next to a muddy pair of shoes. Loneliness is a crying child, it kicks, it jumps, gnaws and screams, unable to be calmed, it creates destruction and unhappiness, to elevate its’ own mood. Or to diminish the joy of others.
It chews and gnaws away, it consumes, and with it, the hole becomes much more than the sum of its’ parts. It sits inside, a void created, a gaping hole within ones’ own chest cavity, oozing hate, dripping despair and spreading misery through the body like a virus. I’m not often wrong. It’s a mystery; my innate ability for correctness, whether things I know or otherwise, I’m right. It can’t be explained, but I just know things. Sadly, there are things about myself I know, things I wish were wrong, but, alas, I can sit and nod smugly, correct again. I know how I am, I know my thoughts, my feelings, my inhibitions, my fears, my phobias, and that knowledge gives me an air of clairvoyance. I can read my own future, and I know I’ll always be stood behind the window, boxed up, lonely and miserable. The repetition is clear, the formulae my life follows has not and will not change. As one who came into this world crying and alone, that too is how I will exit it. I’m trapped, gasping for air, groping for an exit, clawing through my own claustrophobia, locked behind my own eyes. As a person with no future, no clear skills, somewhat of an alien, a perpetual outsider, the generic person who despises the person who blankly stares back at them when they look into the mirror. As the last of four sub-par human beings, I say this, I don’t like music gigs. I never have, I doubt I ever will. And no one I know knows that.
My problem, the root of my depression and problems is my personality. I am, effectively, what is wrong with me. The "cure" is to re-write whom I am. But then I won't be me. I'll be even more of a stranger.
I don't want to be me, but I don't think I could stand being someone else.
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| Das Week. |
[26 Oct 2009|12:17am] |
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mood |
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 cynical |
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music |
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Jackie Wilson - Reet Petite. |
] |
The video for Hell is weird. Seriously, what were they thinking? To be fair, I've seen alot worse, but there's still a huge wtf(?!?!?!) *confused/constipated face* element to it.
I can only hear out of one ear at the moment. Which, yes, it's annoying, but on the bright side I still have 50% of my hearing and I don't have an intense pain within my ears that stops me from being able to turn my head (which has happened before. Alot.) Though I do have a headache *head-desk*.
My mother wants me to ask my Facebook friends to be her neighbours on FarmVile.... *repeatedly slams head against solid surface*.
So far today Graham has come through my open bedroom window, climbed over me and then stood by my closed door, crying to be let out, only to trot off downstairs, a total of six times (waking me up five times) ..... *headslam*
I had a phone conversation with Jazz that lasted for over two hours on Friday night, that was pleasant and odd. And we're both in agreement that we don't trust the [new] guy in Moo's life, and we're the only two that don't.
She's still completely stressy and girly over the whole Prowse situation, which I find to be funny. She keeps wanting to call him a twat and such but I keep pointing out, much to her chagrin, that he is actually the least twat-ish guy that she knows.
They'd be a good couple though, weird as hell, but good (and good for each other).
Some point earlier on in the week (before half of my hearing decided to fuck off somewhere), whilst I was compulsively listening to Sainthood (*shrugs*), I think I was on a bus heading somewhere because I was ear-phoning it, I realised (and yes, this is quite a low-level realisation) that one of the reasons why I so indiscriminately love most of Tegan's songs is because, quite simply, she has a sexy singing voice.
For those who need proof, just listen to The Cure with ear-phones in. You get me bruv?
The head-honcho manager from the Leefe (the place I interviewed at) [and actually the person who interviewed me] rung me up on Tuesday or some crap and asked if I could come down for a trial shift on Friday. I said yes and then proceeded to get my chef's uniform out and throw it in the washing machine. Friday rolled around, I woke up, half-able to hear and I knew it would be a shit day. I was right.
I knew, as the last time I was in a kitchen, working, was in March that I'd be rusty. And *shakes head* I arsed it up royally. A person knows when they're sub-par and damn was I ever sub-par. The next time I hear from the manager I'm sure she'll be telling me that she's greatful for my help on Friday (especially because I stayed for an hour longer than I should have) but I'm not what they're looking for. *head-desk* I'm pissed off at myself because I know, when I'm on the ball, when I'm confident in the kitchen I'm in, I can have it running like a fucker. I can get good food out in good time, but I just went to pieces on Friday.
And finally, I've decided, when I'm nearing the end of my to-read pile (which will take a while), annnd when I have the cash (which will also take a while) I'm going to get a few books by certain philosophers, or just some that raise interesting ideas, as I'm sick of my brain molding over within my skull. On that to by list, I've got books by, - Jean-Paul Sartre
- Rene Descartes
- Immanuel Kant
- Friedrich Nietzsche
- Arthur Schopenhauer
- William Hazlitt
- David Hume
- Karl Marx
- Lucretius
I also want to get a book of some of George Orwell's essays, because they seem interesting as fuck.
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| Four blocks, run and hide. Don't walk alone at night. |
[19 Oct 2009|06:52pm] |
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mood |
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 lethargic |
] |
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music |
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Tegan and Sara - Hell |
] |
*yawn* As fun as it would be to talk about my first ever job interview and how I felt like a gimp, dressed "smartly" and how it apparently went well (and how Jazz has some really hot female managers), I won't. Nor will I talk about finally being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. And I won't even begin to talk about having already started Xmas present shopping. Or even how I'm trying to reconnect with my Jewish routes and how this surprises some of the people who know me well. And Lord knows I won't even start on about how I'm apparently going to end up in the US in February to hang out with some homo's and watch some even 'mo-ier 'mo's sing some mo'ish songs (or you know, go and see Tegan and Sara with Suzanna and Alyse). Talk about having a gay old time.
I won't even mention how I'm aching for my next tattoo, and how I've already got it all sorted, now all I need is the cash.
Oh no, I won't even begin with any of this.
However, two pictures, the first demonstrates what my life has become (an endless reading pile) and the second (as much as I hate the, "Oh look at how cute my pet is! So precious!!" crap, Graham did a sterling job of camouflaging himself and it needed to be documented).
( image cutty cut cut. )
Additional: my mother has found and become addicted to the FarmVille/FarmTown bollocks on Facebook, even though she actually grows apples, chilis, tomatoes, strawberries and other shit in the garden (as well as having a herb-garden), why does she need a virtual farm too? She's in her late fifties for Godsake!
Additional, additional: I have a [disturbing] crush on Charlie Brooker.
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| Books, books, books.... BOOOOOOOOOKS! |
[26 Sep 2009|03:56pm] |
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mood |
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bored |
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music |
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Family Guy |
] |
I swear to God I'm going to start eating them soon enough. I'm reading, on average, two and a half books a day. This is the quality of my life at the moment. What an absolute orgy of sex, drugs, rock'n'roll and everything else people are supposed to do, my life is.
Anyway, I've found that there are yet more books I've to buy when I can spare the moolah - - Ryu Murakami - Coin-Locker Babies
- Ryu Murakami - Sixty-nine.
- George Robinson - Essential Judaism: A Complete Guide to Beliefs, Customs and Rituals.
- Dostoevsky - The Double
- William Burroughs - Naked Lunch.
- Jonathan Ames - What's Not to Love?: The Adventures of a Mildly Perverted Young Writer
I've also learnt that I have complete opposite tastes in literature to my mother, we've both read Kafka, she was really taken with him, I was not, we've both read The Great Gatsby, she found Fitzgerald really hard-going, whereas I found him a delight. In everything so far, we're completely opposite. It's rather odd.
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| WORDS ON A PAGE!! |
[22 Sep 2009|12:43pm] |
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I have so much time on my hands, it's almost vulgar. I honestly just sleep and read. I read two and a half books yesterday, because I simply had nothing else to do. What makes matters worse is my doctor has recently upped my dose of what I'm on, so instead of being 20mg's of drowsy, I'm 30mg's of drowsy, she's reluctant to completely double the dose, which I'm thankful for otherwise I think I'd end up sleeping twenty hours of the day. Otherwise I'm still waiting for this psychiatric referral, which could take up to three months (thankyou NHS). The really annoying thing, is I'm pretty sure that I'm just on the wrong thing at the moment, it should be Lithium or something similar, but by the time I get to see someone who can assess me, I'll have to be weened off what I'm currently on, so it's all just taking time. Which to be fair, is what I have an abundance of.
This is from a book I read on Sunday, I just like it;
Every single cell in the human body replaces itself over a period of seven years. That means there's not even the smallest part of you now that was part of you seven years ago.
Everything is changing.
In the early days of my second life I noticed how the shadow of the telegraph pole would inch between the gardens of two houses across the street - from 152 to the garden of 150 - over the course of several hours, from lunchtime into evening. After watching this a few times I did the maths: the shadow movement from one garden to the next meant that both houses, the telegraph pole, the street, all of us, had travelled one thousand, one hundred and sixty miles around the earth with the turning planet. We'd also travelled about seventy-six thousand miles through space around the sun in the same period and much much further as part of the wider spiraling of the galaxy. And nobody noticed a thing. There is no stillness, only change. Yesterday's here is not today's here. Yesterday's here is somewhere in Russia, in a wilderness in Canada, a deep blue nowhere out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It's behind the sun, it's in deep space, hundreds of thousands, millions of miles left behind. We can never wake up in the same space we went to sleep in. Our place in the universe, the universe itself, it all changes faster and faster by the second. Everyone of us standing on this planet, we're all moving forwards and we're never ever coming back. The truth is, stillness is an idea, a dream. It's the thought of friendly, welcoming lights still shining in all the places we've been forced to abandon.
- The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall (page 25)
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| WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! |
[17 Sep 2009|11:49am] |
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mood |
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 hyper |
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music |
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Tegan and Sara - The Con (Demo) |
] |
( WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! )
November is going to be fucktastic, excusing how vulgar that sounds, it will be fucking awesome. I get to see my favourite and second favourite bands within a fortnight of each other *squee*.
Additional:
My list of books to buy (that I now have a date on which I can purchase them) has grown, the Jonathan Safran Foer book has changed from Everything is Illuminated to Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - because two, yes count them, TWO, little lesbians suggested EL&IC so, there you go. I've also added the following;
· Jack Finney – About Time: Twelve Stories. · Jack Finney – Time and Again. · David Gerrold – The Man Who Folded Himself. · Truman Capote - In Cold Blood (A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences) · Christopher Moore – Lamb (The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal)
Annnnnnd, I'm so happy because now I can (and will) pre-order Dan Rhodes' new book Little Hands Clapping off of Amazon, sadly it's not due to be released for another five months, but still AWESOME!
The downside is that this arse-load of books will set me back about £230 (US $380), but as reading is one of the three main things that I'm doing at the moment, it seems worth it. Plus you know, hopefully they'll be good reads.
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| Book-like such things. |
[14 Sep 2009|12:23pm] |
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mood |
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apathetic |
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Because nothing good nor exciting has been happening recently, and because, meh, I might as well still post in this piece of crap, a list of books I'm soon to buy (because I'm not doing a whole lot besides sleeping and reading at the moment) - when I can spare the money -
Christopher Moore – Lamb (The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal)Truman Capote - In Cold Blood (A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences)David Gerrold – The Man Who Folded Himself.Jack Finney – Time and Again.Jack Finney – About Time: Twelve Stories.Chuck Palahniuk – Lullaby.Dante's InfernoDouglas Adams - The Hitch-hikers Guide.The Atheists Guide to ChristmasGeorge Robinson - Essential Judaism: A Complete Guide to Beliefs, Customs and Rituals. Dostoevsky - The Double Charlie Brooker - The Hell of It. William Burroughs - Naked Lunch. Jonathan Ames - What's Not to Love?: The Adventures of a Mildly Perverted Young Writer- Dan Rhodes - Little Hands Clapping
- It All Changed in an Instant: And More Six-Word Memoirs.
James Joyce – Uylsses.Mary Shelley – Frankenstein.Bram Stoker – Dracula.Alan Lightman – the Diagnosis.Six-word Memoirs on Love and Heartbreak,Ryu Murakami – Auditon.Jimmy Carr - The Naked Jape: Uncovering the Hidden World of Jokes.Fyodor Dostoyevsky – The Gambler.Jack Kerouac – On The Road.Charlie Brooker – Dawn of the Dumb.Charlie Brooker - ScreenAmy Sedaris, Paul Dinello and Stephen Colbert - Wigfield: The Can-Do Town That Just May Not.Jon Stewart – Naked Pictures of Famous People.Amy Sedaris – I Like You.Amy Sedaris and David Sedaris – The Book of Liz.David Sedaris – Barrel Fever.Jonathan Ames – I Pass Like Night.Luke Rhinehart – The Dice Man.F. Scott Fitzgerald – Tender is the Night.F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Collected short Stories [of F. Scott Fitzgerald].F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby.Michael Chabon – Wonder Boys.Augusten Burroughs – You Better Not Cry.
The three in bold are pre-orders as they haven't been released yet, whilst I'm on a mamoth-book-buy, are there any others people can suggest? (I have absolutely no idea why Lj is fucking around with the formatting of this post).
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| An LJ Post Talking About MJ's Death? How Novel |
[26 Jun 2009|12:22am] |
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mood |
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 indifferent |
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music |
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Archangel - Do It Again |
] |
I don't care.
Call me a heartless cunt if you want, but I don't care. Just because he was a famous singer it doesn't make his passing anymore grave than anyone else's.
For the record I've never been upset at the passing of a "celebrity", I like to think that if I had been older at the time I would have been more moved by the deaths of Princess Diana and Mother Theresa, but I was a child at the time and really had no idea who either were. But if I had been upset it wouldn't have been for myself, it would have had more a sense of "a global loss of good" to it. Because they were good people, whose lives were repleat with good deeds.
What's Michael Jackson synonymous with? Music and molestation. Don't jump down my throat, I'm not calling a dead man a pedophile, I'm just saying that's one of the things attached to him, true or not.
My point is, I never knew him, I didn't like his music and I have no attachment to him, so why should I be upset? Death is inevitable and happening every second of everyday, just because it was someone famous, why does it make a difference? The loss of a life is the loss of a life.
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| Updated Download |
[08 May 2009|06:55pm] |
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mood |
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chipper |
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Holy mother of God and all things deeply holy and let's face it; fucktastic. With only 34 and a half days left, I really can't wait. I mean, the camping side of things might be whack, but almost everyone I know is going to be there and apparently we're all camping (pitching) next to each other. Jamie was talking about it when we were out of Tuesday, he's gone to each since '05, so he's well aquainted with the entire experience, which works for me because I'm going to be a rather large n00b throughout.
They're still adding more bands which is pretty fucking ace, I'm still looking forward to seeing Billy Talent the most though, and like I said Claire's made me promise to be unfront centre when they're on, so that will be... interesting.
I have to see Backyard Babies with Kane though, because we're apparently the only two Brits who even know about them, plus he's been at university this year so I haven't really seen him since last Summer.
( Download line-up as of 8th May '09 )
I really can't wait.
*non-saracstic huzzah*
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[29 Apr 2009|04:35pm] |
Ill. Really fucking ill. I've spent most of the day sleeping only to wake up to vomit.
I don't mind being ill, well I don't love it, let's be honest, I feel like utter shit, all over. But it's the fact that I went out for a mates birthday last night and specifically abstained from alcohol, I only had one small diet coke the whole night. And what happens? I wake up and start throwing up, wtf? Why? Why today? Why now?
I had stuff I was going to do today, stuff to do tomorrow. Urgh!
Shit illness is shit.
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| The Week In Review |
[26 Apr 2009|11:59pm] |
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mood |
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geeky |
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music |
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Alkaline Trio - This Could Be Love |
] |
So, my Monday was nice.. just nice, all-roundedly, nothing incredible happened, but nothing sucky either. So I thought I'd post about it, but then I thought fuck it, I'd do a looking back on the week thing at the end of the week/start of the next. And wouldn't you know, here we are.
(My memory is beyond shitsville, so I'm probably missing stuff out and fudging the days)
Monday
Last time I was in the US (Feb' '08), I bought a really bitching pool cue and never got around to using it. The horror! Anywho, I kept saying, "I'll go to Riley's this week" over and over and I finally kicked myself up the chuff and went on Monday morning. It's been about fourteen months since I last properly played pool (ie, in a pool-hall not drunk in a bar) and I thought, wow, I am going to suuuuuuuuuuck.
I didn't.
Pool and snooker (I grew up on a 3/4 sized snooker table) have always been hobbies of mine, I'll group them together and say, one of the few. These days I'm more about pool (mainly because a full sized snooker table beyond dwarfs me), which is fine. I like pool, I like playing and I'm surprisingly good. So, it counts as one of my few skills too. So when I picked up my cue and went down to the nearest pool hall to discover that I was still on-form I was over the moon.
For the last few weeks, whenever I go out, I'm more elusive about it than usual. I'm 20 I don't need to tell my mum everytime I pop out to buy milk or what the hell ever. This has started to bug her and she always questions where I've been and what I've been getting up to.
The other week when she caught me heading out of the front door and asked, where I was going I told her "out" when she said "out where?" I gestured to the open door and said, "Out the door" and left.
And on Monday I had this fine exchange with her, over the phone;
Her: "Where are you?"
Me: "Out."
Her: "Out where?"
Me: "Outside."
Her: "What are you doing?"
Me: "Waiting for the bus."
Her: "Where?"
Me: "At the bus stop."
Call me crazy, but in my old age, I shouldn't need to relay every detail of my life to her, to report my whereabouts at any given time to her. I should point out that ^ that exchange took place at about 3pm, so it wasn't as if it were after midnight and she was worried about me staying out late or whatever.
I also got my new phone on Monday. It's an iPhone (I still have beef with Apple, but it's rather wonderful anyway), I then started to set my phone up, only to discover that my five year old Sim card isn't 3G (duh) and isn't compatible, so I had to ring up O2 and say, blah blah, old sim, blah blah, three to five working days? Wonderful. Thanks, blah.
I want to convey right now that I'm not spoiled. I had to work on talking my dad into letting me get an iPhone, pointing out that I had had my current handset for almost three years (I was entitled to an upgrade, but as it's such an expensive phone, it wasn't one of the ones they were offering for free). Anyway, that came through on Monday.
I went down to the Moons, stayed very late chatting to Adam, so I missed the last bus. Whilst waiting for a taxi (I couldn't be bothered to walk home, I had no music with me and my bladder was full, a 45 minute walk was not an option). It really dawned on me that it had been a good day, I looked up at the sky, it was beautifully clear for 2am, lots of stars out and so calm, I really did want to walk that night.
Pluuuuus the cab only cost me £4 when usually it's £5, result!
Tuesday
Another morning spent at the pool hall, playing snooker mainly. I wasn't playing as well with my snooker cue and it was busy, people were loud *grumble* but the girl working was friendly and cute.
On the way back I ran into Claire on the bus, she was with Luke and another dude who I don't know. She sat next to me and we chatted about things, mainly Download. It was nice.
(A little note about the route I took, I had to get to Harrow Weald, which I did, then I got the H12 which took me to Pinner, via Hatch End. I got off of the bus, got home, dumped my snooker cue and picked up, among other things, plum sauce and large tongs [you'll find out why in a second]. I then got another H12 and went back on myself to get to Adam's in Hatch End, when I had basically driven past his door less than half an hour before hand.
Sometimes I just feel like I'm going in circles.)
Anywho, like I said, I got home dropped my cue off and picked some stuff up, then went back out this time with music, alcohol and sunglasses. And who did I run into on the H12 again? Claire! Who I never see out and about. She sat next to me again and we chatted some more. Once again, it was nice.
This time I left her on the bus when I got off and went down to Adams, for a BBQ! Let's be fair, the sun was out and we're British, what else would do? It was a nice evening, we (Adam, Jamie, Stacey and myself) all cooked abit and just sat round talking and eating... and talking. We also played with Adam and Stacey's puppies.
Then we kicked back (literally on recliners, *sigh* how I miss recliners) and watched the Simpsons and Family Guy, with one of the puppies going to sleep on me and the other next to me.
I also chatted to Adam and Stacey's mum a bit. All in all it was a nice and easy, relaxed day. I'm usually quite crap at small talk so it really was nice.
Strangest thing I saw that day; Flash (one of the puppies) trying to hump her sister.
Wednesday
I basically did nothing all day and loved it.
My dad brought home my Sim at like 7pm so I fiddled with my phone a little.
Thursday
I rung up Suzanna - strange strange girl! she plays with her bones, 'nough said - so that was a nice and pleasant half hour, I think I passed out fell asleep shortly after too, because it was at like 3 or 4am. It was lovely that Suzanna then went on to QT my existence.
I spent most of Thursday day really playing with my phone, customizing it, downloading apps, hacking into it and such.
Friday
I'm not going to bitch about Friday and Oyster cards because I know it's petty, but still grrr. Anyway, it occurred to me that without my Oyster and basically no money for travel I was stuck at home, or stuck to going out to places that are within walking distance. Whether I needed to go out or not, it was simply the fact that I couldn't. It would take me the best part of an hour to walk down to Adam or Jamie's homes, about two hours to get down to Harrow and such. Just knowing that I couldn't really go anywhere and that I couldn't really leave home crushed me, suffocated me. Yes, I could still leave my house, sit in my backgarden, or walk down to the High Street, that would take mere minutes, but I couldn't do anything. For one of the first times ever, I felt like a prisoner of sorts and I loathed my inability to drive (see also: lack of balance and subsequent failure to stay on a bicycle).
Anyway later on the day (I'm missing chunks of the day out, by the way) I got a text from Melissa urging me out, I told her I'd go but then re-thunk it. I weighed stuff up in my head and I figured that I probably wouldn't have the best time, so I stayed at home, but still, it was nice of her to think of me and try to get me out to Junky.
Saturday
Basically, I did shit. I got up, showered and went out to Harrow all before my mother was even showered and dressed, so woot for my early start. Like I said I went out to Harrow, sorted some of my finances out, bought an inflatable sofa and grabbed a bite to eat.
I came home and pissed about on Facebook for about an hour (let's face it, it's an hour I'm never going to see again). Then my mum (so kindly) reminded me about scanning photos. So I did, all 142 of them. All scanned, cropped, resized, flipped, you name it. I then set the 'frame up and uploaded all the pictures, ready for my grandmothers birthday. It took me about four hours. I'm never seeing those ever again either.
I told my mother, that it was a tedious job and she "owed me", instead of half-heartedly "hmm'ing" in agreement or even just saying, "thanks" she said, "And what about all the your dad and myself do for you?" Charming. I just wanted a thank you for the hard work. Sjeez.
I then spent some time trying to inflate my new sofa. I gave up half-way though, rubbing my cheeks thinking up dirty remarks about how my lack of a girlfriend is linked to why the muscles in my face/mouth aren't so strong.
At some point, I texted back and forth with Adam, him telling me that my speakers were kaput. So I went down to the Moons and picked my speakers up and figured that Adam shouldn't be that much longer, so I'd wait for him to finish closing the kitchen down and then we'd kick back and chat for a bit. He is one slow bastard, it took him almost a whole extra hour.
Anyway, one of the regulars, who I'd never talked to before came up to me, introduced himself and Reg' and asked to send a text for him. We got into this whole deep thing, apparently he's a clinical psychologist and he's seen me around alot and yada yada. He said some really nice, touching things, he complimented my character told me that I genuinely seemed lovely, that I was a nice person, but I didn't let people see it and such. He then made me agree to try to knock down some of the walls I'd put up over the years.
It really was touching and he didn't have to say any of it. Anywho, everyone got turfed out and Adam fiiiiinally finished (surprisingly I didn't get chucked out, which was nice). Then EVERYONE who worked that night sat/stood 'round and we spent over an hour playing on the itBox.
Having missed the last bus by over an hour I walked home, with my speakers, listening to my phone.
Forty minutes into my journey, I saw something wonderful; a hedgehog. I know it's strange, but I'd never actually seen one before and there he was bold as brass scurrying up onto the pavement from the road, stopping cautiously when I stopped myself, to look at him.
For the record, even when I actually do stuff, even when I have a really full, filled day, when I'm awake for hoooours and I really get stuff done, I don't feel accomplished or any better for it.
Sunday
Oy [/Jewish] So I fell asleep at about 5.30am on Sunday morning, woke up at about 8am, fell back to sleep, woke up and 11am and fell back to sleep, waking again near 2pm. It was glorious.
I finished blowing up my sofa. Huzzah. It's larger than I anticipated and I'm now back to having not one free inch of space in my room again; the area in front of the Southern Comfort is just about enough room for my door to open and close -
To prove that it really is a big sofa (about my height) -
For the record; - A) Naked ladies; I'm a pervert.
- B) That's an Action Man in one of Barbie's dresses (I can explain why I had a Barbie to begin with).
- C) That's a film called Be With Me, it's rather wonderful. People should watch it.
- D) Things to be posted, people watch
this space, your postboxes. - E) Dinner.
- F) Almost naked Homer Simpson.
- G) Sofa is now covered with a black bottom sheet because if I wanted to look at something horrifically white I'd just look in the mirror.
- H) Monkey!!
Clearly me on the sofa being a lazy little lesbian.
So that was my "nice" week.
( Cuuuuut )
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| If you're wearing socks, then you have to be wearing underwear too. |
[20 Apr 2009|12:52am] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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music |
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Art Brut - Good Weekend |
] |
Or just generally, if a person finds themselves naked bar a pair of socks, something is deeply wrong.
I often forget that I have desires to become Santa. Then Christmas rolls around and before I get really depressed and broke, I remember that I want to get a job as a Santa. I ignore my lack of a Y chromosome, presence of Jewishness and general contempt for the general public. And I imagine myself decked out in the red suit (thank you Coca Cola), big fuck off white beard covering most of my face, cheeks pickened, eyes friendly, years of bitterness and loathing washed away. And I'd sit, beckoning children onto a knee, voice dropped as low as my vocal chords would allow, "Ho, Ho, Ho"'ing warmly, promising spoiled children the material goods they wanted, conditioning that they be good.
I'd do it all. With all the conviction I could muster, ignoring my years of calling Santa a perverted peadophile.
But then, who ever heard of a grumpy Jewish lesbian Santa Claus?
So yesterday I finally got around to unpacking the last of my crap from the move (I moved house on the 15th of February 2007). Yeah, that's right. The point is, when I first moved, I found myself in a bedroom that was somewhere between 1/2 and 2/3's smaller than the one I had lived in during the eighteen and a half years prior, so I naturally didn't have room for all the shit I had and left x number of boxes unpacked, mainly in my double wardrobe (I hate putting clothes in wardrobes, I don't know why, I just do, or at the very least I hate hanging shit up in there. So at my old house, clothes lined the floor of my wardrobe, and empty hangers littered the railing). That's just me, a perpetural messy teenager. Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to put clothes in the wardrobe, so it seemed natural to stack full boxes within.
So anyway, at some point last year I sorted alot of stuff out, but left all the boxes in my wardrobe. And for some reason yesterday I decided to sort everything out. Which involved throwing alot of stuff out. I also gave my bedroom a little spruce, vacuumed, cleaned my fan, all that shit. And because of how I've rearranged a thing or two I now have a large amount of space free on the floor.... well just about big enough for an inflatable sofa. Which is what I intend to purchase when I can scrape the meager funds together. I used to have one, but it met an untimely end during a houseparty with a couple of darts - clearly someone had no idea where the board hung. Gits.
I also, went through some of the boxes in the garage, because we moved from a fuck off huge house to one half the size with half the amount of rooms which all seem to be significantly smaller. The garage is full of boxes that can't be unpacked (plus boxes of Shaun's, Andrew's and Roberta's crap). Anyway, my mum wanted to find her music and see if there were anymore photo albums boxed up. Because my dad is injured I decided to help my mum, because she can't lift heavy boxes and blah blah. It really is the kind of job her and my dad would do, but whatever. We found three boxes of her cd's and two more photoalbums which featured more naked Shaun and more Andrew.
At some point during the shifting of boxes my mother remarked that it was good that I'd managed to get the masculinity that had passed Shaun by so many years ago. This may seemed fucked up, but I've been saying this for years, despite the ten year age gap and two siblings in between, I'm pretty sure I ended up with some of Shaun's testosterone and he snagged my estrogen long before I was born.
That is to say that I've always been a tomboy and he's always been a lovely, sweet, emotional guy that wouldn't hurt a fly.
My family is a strange one. Lots of lady-love going on. Somewhere in my mind, I can see all of us resolving our differences and getting together for a family meal, each child having found a significant other (however temporary) and we're gathered around a table, my father trying to get us to drink Champagne, even though it's top quality, none of us want any, my mother tired from having to cook enough food to feed an army, Shaun sat with his girlfriend, she doesn't have much interest in Canning, but she has a strange love for politics and Norwich FC, they compliment each other and are usually locked in an intellectual debate. Then there's Andrew, long-since having ditched his dreadlocks, he's found someone, another socialist, they're usually found arguing. Then there's Bob, she's got a girlfriend too, someone she met at a poetry recital maybe, they're taking their relationship slow, but they've both been eying up a homeless puppy in a near-by petshop, neither is keen on children, but a puppy, well, maybe...
And then there's me, sat next to my long-suffering girlfriend, I'll roll my eyes at my family and she'll kick me under the table, but mutter something about the genetic lack of sanity in my family, I'll shake my head at her, a sarcastic jibe will pass under my breath and I'd marvel at how so many can fit around such a small table.
Of course I know it'll never happen, for various reasons.
But maybe, we'll all find someone. Someone who can put up with each of us.
I saw one of my old bosses on Friday, by saw I mean I was at the pub. Anyway, she asked me what I was upto now, so I told her the truth; fuck all. Well, I said "nothing". Since leaving I've done a surprisingly small amount. My biggest achievement this month? Getting through 45 cans of soft drink in under a fortnight. Well, drinking them isn't the achievement is completing this (again), this is, in all honesty, how I spend my time -
Can't you see how much of a non-stop, whirlwind of a fast-paced, action-packed life I lead?
So today I completed my pyramid again, and I read five books. Huzzah for me.
Since receiving the first letter... er, I've ever received, I've been trying to work out what to do with it. Ordinarily I would have put it in a drawer, but I don't have any anymore, so since I received it and read it, it's sat atop of my seldom used printed, unsure of what to do with itself -
maybe one day I'll get a unit with drawers in it and the letter will have a home.
In other news, I'm waiting on something in the post that's coming from Hong Kong so I can send it off to America. I currently have three separate packages to send to America (and one to mainland Europe), but I refuse to take them to the post office until I get what I'm waiting on, just so I can send everything off together. I have no idea how much this will continue to delay things, but I'm sending everything off together, now matter how long it takes.
It's not even about laziness, it's about sending everything together. Even if it is all going to different places across the states, it's all getting sent on the same day, damnit!
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| The Word of the Day is; Fourgy |
[17 Apr 2009|11:24pm] |
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mood |
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bored |
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music |
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Scouting for Girls - She's So Lovely |
] |
Because it's brilliant spliced with genius, it's brenius.
Speaking of genius, have I declared my love for Stephen Colbert before? -
So anyway, my grandmother's *thinks* eighty-third birthday is coming up next month so my mum is getting her a digital photoframe and she's (and by she's I mean I'm) going to have to scan a bunch of old skizzle photos onto her laptop and upload them to this digi photoframe. (By old skizzle I mean one that range from when my grandmother was a child down to when Shaun was a child). Anywho, this left me yesterday going through all the old photos in my house - there was much laughter. But it's also amazing, back in her younger days, circa 1943 or so(?) my grandmother was quite something. Also Shaun, Andrew and Roberta were all very naked in photos.... so wrong.
( Cuuuuuuuuuutttttt )
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| Superfluous Resolve |
[13 Apr 2009|09:32pm] |
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mood |
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listless |
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music |
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The Kinks - Waterloo Sunset |
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It's Leslie who's been diluting my shower gel, failing an actual logical explanation, that will suffice.
Sunny is indeed, as suspected, alive and well.
RD: It was a nice call back to a fan-favourite, but they're not as young as they once were.
Whiskey ITJ does in fact work as a text tone, it works rather well.
I will implement my plans of giving out boxes of Matzo instead of hollow chocolate eggs next Pesach.
-
I have three things planned for tomorrow, I hope all go according to plan, if not then damn spliced with lame.
I'm not used to having so much time on my hands, it makes me listless and itchy.
I think I'm going to work more on the playlist to my life later on, because I honestly have nothing better to do, plus much like myself, it's a wonderfully self-indulgent, ego-centric activity.
Sadly, once again, I've started to hug things whilst drooling during sleep. On the bright side, I've stopped remembering my weird dreams. How's that for a silver-lining?
I've come to the realization that yes, I do indeed have a "type", it's not solid, but there are certain things that pop up over and over, case in point on that Facebook "My Top 5 HOT Celebrities" crap, all five are brunettes (I'm including Kathryn Prescott, because natural hair colour and shit). Not that that's a huge thing or anything, but my mother was bad-mouthing my taste in women the other day. Which hurt, because firstly she doesn't even know whom I find attractive and ugh, I do NOT like fake breasts. I don't care if I do look like a fourteen year-old Jewish boy, I do not think like one.
I can't dance, but I keep attempting a shit version of the Twist. In my heart I was born over three decades before my actual birth year.
Apparently my father, who upon feeling "sad" one night in his late teens dropped on a tab of acid and had fourteen brandy cocktails.
I never would have guessed. I wonder what he was like when he was younger.
My can-pyramid is nearing completion once again, if I get drunk tomorrow night I'm only going to come home and find some way of falling into it and if I'm that ratted I won't be fucked to pick them all up and will probably end up asleep on half of them.
That won't stop me.
Seemingly, my friends like hanging out with me, who knew?
I'm still surprised that "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" was The Hollies.
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| Superfluous |
[12 Apr 2009|12:15pm] |
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mood |
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complacent |
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music |
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Morrissey - That's How People Grow Up |
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Someone's been diluting my shower gel. *double blink* Whhhhhhhhhhhhhy?! And who? Seriously, what the hell? That surely can't be right, but.... *shakes head* With all the everything going on in my life at the moment this is all I can focus on.
- I wonder if Sunny has gone home yet.... I also wonder if she's lying in a ditch somewhere... maybe I'll try giving her another buzz.
- I still don't understand Easter.
- Myself and Adam are both sick perverts. Not that this is a bad thing, it's just a fact.
- I think I'm going to ring Felix's office on Tuesday.
- The Red Dwarf specials are painful, I grew up with RD, it's fucking ace but this? This is weak, Douglas, why, WHY? Sophie Winkleman is rather hot though.
- My mother's sister, Judith (three and a half years my mother's junior) is aging so much better than my mother, granted Judith hasn't popped out four kids and hasn't had to deal with my father for the past 31 years. I think I will go down to see her one Saturday, stay the night then go with her to see
Roberta Bob in Brighton on the Sunday.
- I wonder if Whiskey in the Jar will work as a text-tone...
- I wonder if in a decades' time, when I'm fast approaching 31 and Shaun will be on his way to 41, I wonder if either of us will have dated by then.
But really I just want to know who's been diluting my shower gel.
I also had the most marvelous idea for Pesach/Easter, if you're a Jew that is, maybe it's just because I'm not a frumer, but my family always exchange eggs and shit, but I've had the best idea for combining the two, instead of giving hollow chocolate eggs to Jewish relatives over the Pesach/Easter period, give them a box of Matzo!
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| What Makes You Happy? (I'm actually asking) |
[09 Apr 2009|03:07pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 contemplative |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Lostprophets - Last Summer |
] |
For cerealz now hommies. Like I've said I've recently quit my job, which gives me an extra fifty hours a week (plus I'm getting like 3 hours sleep a day/night) so I have nothing but fucking time on my hands. So huzzah, even more time to think. Which I'm told I do too much anyway (even by a random Buddhist paramedic).
I'm still pondering the reason of existence (twenty years to think about it and the most solid answer I can come up with [circa 2004] is death).
So I'm listening to my most recently composed playlist (which is bitchin') [obnoxiously loudly as well], at home alone, reading a little, probably going to watch Snatch soon. Not because I particularly like that genre of bloke movie, but *shrugs* why not. Digressing, right.
Anyway, this is my question to basically everyone in the entire world (failing that, to every person on my friend list). What makes you happy?
I'm not asking for hobbies per se, but what makes you happy? I mean truly happy inside, what is it?
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