And I thought that you should know, that I believe.

Adesso no, non voglio più difendermi
Supererò dentro di me gli ostacoli
I miei momenti più difficili
Per te.

Amazing....

Excuse me, while I pull myself together because I have been simply knocked off my feet.

Meanwhile....the jukebox on the right is now updated.

I'll take you up to the highest heights, let's spread our wings and fly away.

Be gentle with me, I'm feeling a little on the delicate side.

Oh....and apparently the podium I found myself dancing on, has never seen so much 'hip action' so the girls and guys behind the bar remarked.

Seemed like a great idea at the time, but they always do, don't they.
Today, I have been suffering.

I wonder what my chances are of being pampered this weekend....

The futile results of what we've done, will untip the balance.

My Christmas present from my folks has been opened.

The sun still trying to shine and the light was ok when I got back from work, so I decided to put that present to good use and cut the grass in the back garden.

It was all going so well as I carefully cut the tape either end of the box. Carefully unwrapping the item and reading through the instructions over a coffee, I felt mentally prepared to follow the 'assemble your lawnmower' section.
This all went well and shortly afterwards, I was the proud owner of a brand spanking new Hover-mower.
My dad obviously 'rates' this model, because last time I was over the folks' house, he asked me how I was getting on with it. His reaction to my, "Erm, having had time to yet" reply was of sheer disappointment. Not being put off, he proceeded to tell me about how many settings it had for the blades, how long the cable was, how it had 'handy clips' to keep the wires tidy and how great the grass collector box was.

After finishing cutting the grass, with what can only be described as the same amount of sweat on my face as a boxer who's just done 10 rounds with Rocky Balboa, I sat there with a fag in my hand and thought about some possibilities here:

When it comes down to lawnmowers, my dad doesn't know his arse from his elbow.

Either it was deathly quiet outside tonight or I have just become the proud owner of the noisiest Hover-mower in the street.

I own, possibly the only Hover-mower in the entire world that doesn't 'Hover'.

That aside, the grass is a lot shorter than it was and the bonus is that I got a little exercise.
With those points in mind, I have vowed to cut the grass at least 3 times a week and thus get a washboard stomach like Usher.

The answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind....

I just farted in the kitchen.

As defined by dictionary.com

Ok, so I can understand the whole 'our bodies build up gas inside and have to release them, otherwise we will blow up until we combust' thing, but really....was there no better way for Mother Nature to deal with this predicament?

I just can't do it in front of other people. It doesn't matter if it's my brother, my parents, my blood, my best friend, my work colleagues, my girlfriend....I just can't do it without feeling like the most embarrassed person in the entire world because in my head everybody is pointing their finger and holding their nose.
There have been times when I've had to excuse myself, often saying I have to use the loo in order to secretly 'let one out'.
There have been times when they've been (thankfully) silent, but then that's usually combined with a 'but violent', thus creating an SBV. This has often seen me making a swift disappearing act or if my exits are all blocked, then I've played the innocent one.


Our workplace is fast becoming a 'farting is ok' zone. Just lately, certain people feel the need to either verbally announce the event, or even worse, asking somebody to "Pull my finger!" By far the worst offender is The Blagger. Much as I like the guy, his 'gaseous eruptus' leaves a lot to be desired. Not only that, but he almost wears a certain amount of pride when he feels like he's really "Delivered a belter!"
He farts in front of the Managing Director. He farts in front of the girls who work behind the reception desks. He farts in front of his girlfriend. Hell, he even farts in front of customers.
A few weeks ago, I was party to a conversation between him and a friend of ours, telling stories of how he "Trapped Krusty under the bed covers and delivered evil". She just sits there laughing about it all....how strange.

If I do it here at my place, on my own, I find myself wanting to say, "Oops" or "Excuse me", which is ridiculous because I have nobody to apologise to. Well, except Marley of course.

Farting....
It's not big and it's not clever.

Everybody get down if you feel me, put your hands up to the ceiling.

When I was a kid, I wanted to be either a pilot or a teacher.

Growing up, I learnt how to hate school and flying is one of my greatest phobias.
Go figure.

This is Marley, my new houseplant.


I named him after Bob of course. I had some Marley playing when I came back from work and I swear I saw him tentatively throwing discreet shapes. Besides that, his leaves remind me of dreadlocks.

It feels kind of apt that even though Leon has now gone, that Marley turns up out of the blue and becomes not only just another 'talking partner', but also a new companion for me.

The decision has been made today, that I am in need of some retail therapy. Not just a brief visit, but a proper session, involving at least 2 breaks for coffee. As it will be on my day off, this will be a good thing because I won't have to suffer hearing anybody saying "Fuckinellll, how long are we gonna be?".
I can take my time strolling in and out of the shops, returning to have a second browse, trying stuff on, buying stuff, thinking about what I've bought over a coffee, taking stuff back to swap for other stuff, buying even more stuff to go with the exchanged stuff and on...and on....and on....ariston.

Heavy rotated music for this last week has been the new Rihanna album which I'm really, really liking, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Thursday's new cd, Massive Attacks compilation cd and generally lots of Depeche Mode, who for some reason have become a reignited love.

Bring on the new Fugees album, that's what I say...oh and also Damien Rice, Muse, Portishead....

I'm currently faced with an Easter egg. It's giving me that, "go on, you know you wanna eat me" look and I'm afraid I may have to submit, just this one time.
Goes straight to my hips, you know!

I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice, it'd roll right past me.

Saturday night and I'm back at mine by 11.30

Earlier I was out with The Blagger, Krusty and Paint Guy. They asked me to go out with them tonight on....and I quote...."a bender!" This would involve copious amounts of alcohol, laced with a little more...erm...Alcohol.
I had already said no to 'the bender', but said I would come out for a few drinks before they head out properly. This always falls on deaf ears because it's the same routine e v e r y time, with me being repeatedly asked to stay out with them, when the time comes for them to move on.
Anyway, I did my usual 'designated driver' thing to make sure they got to where they wanted to go safely.

So now I'm back.
Eating a sandwich.
Finishing off some wine.
Letting my mind drift off to....
Her.

She missed the stars through the skylight.

Tomorrow, I am once again at work. We have a 'sale' on, which is nothing short of a load of bollocks.

I have a new houseplant. It's a Yukka and it's gorgeous. The Blagger bought it for me after he found out Leon had gone.
How thoughtful....Hey, it's a guy thing!
The new plant doesn't have a name yet, but it's definitely a he.

I'm now contemplating having a breakaway before I tackle two flights of stairs.

....and my bed smells absolutely gorgeous.

I'll work that bit harder, when you say it's not within my grip.

Today has been frustrating at work.
That's all I have to say on the matter!

The Blagger is coming over tomorrow evening for...what he calls a 'man chat'. This would be along the lines of something that guys talk about when nobody else is around.

Yesterday consisted of tyre kickers gallore. A tyre kicker being the sort of person (usually a guy), who loves nothing more than to wander around, looking at cars and asking stupid questions, like "what litre capacity is the boot", or "Does this come with a spacesaver?" or "What MPG would you get out of this car?", or "what's my car worth?"
Who gives a fuck what your cars worth!!!
Are you gonna buy a car?
No!
So what difference does it make what your car's worth!
Spend some time with your family or friends for fucks sake and get a life!

I am in charge at work until next Tuesday.
God help them all....

They find themselves, through the chaos....making sense.

So for me, the Easter break is now over.

Tomorrow I am back to work, all be it a short shift of just 10 'til 4.
It will mostly consist of me catching up on the last few days worth of paperwork, talking to people who have nothing better to do than stroll around a car dealership on a Bank Holiday and daydreaming....

I didn't even lower my defenses.

The walls were built strong and proud,
The doors locked,
The boundary's patrolled by savage dogs, looking for lurkers

My fight was strong,
My mask worn with a certain amount of pride,
My heart and soul protected by the strongest security, while they mended themselves.

And yet she still managed to sneak through.

The fear grew,
The search was on for her flaws,
The list still remains blank.

My will to resist grew weak,
My defense surrendered their arms,
My hope returned.


The playlist tonight reflects my mood of feeling....

"Hansel and Gretal are holding hands deep in the forrest.
They are lost, This is their own story.
The two have fallen in love, and so,
after a log quietness amidst the creatures of the night, they begin to kiss.
traveling like heat through each other's bodies,
they pass through centuries of insecurity and into a rhythm where they are not afraid.

Mamma has led these children into the wild unknown for reasons, known,
with father's help of course, they tried very hard to get back home,
but of course, they could not.
And so, they find themselves through the darkness, through the sadness,
making love, making peace, making music."

Talk about the passion.

It's very difficult to describe your inner most feelings when you're so passionate about something.

Sometimes, one's passion can switch or transpose or fluctuate, depending on one's own circumstances. In those cases, it's not the true passion that falters, but the circumstances that deteriorates it.

My passion lies within music.

I can't even begin to explain how music can evoke such an emotion within me. At the right time....in the right circumstances...I become enveloped amidst the devotion of what I hope to be similar feelings that the artist/s felt when they listen to the final mix.

I can appreciate all different genres and types, call them what you will. Scatty Jazz still confuses me though, but nobody can say that I haven't tried with it.

There's nothing wrong with a trashy pop song,. In fact, a well written pop song can contain 'hooks' that get under your skin and dig in, until you can take it no more and find yourself humming along at the most inappropriate times.
Sometimes, you can sucked in with a song by an artist that you've always filed in the 'tried it, but kinda crap' section. And it's great to appreciate each song for what it is....a perfect dollop of ingredients, melting together to form a beautiful concoction of sound, voice and words.

And how do they know....?
How do these artists know when the song is 'finished'?
They record, lay down tracks, add backing vocals, mix, layer, cut, splice, edit, change, re-record, remix etc....
Is there a point when they sit there in the recording studio, listening to mixes and suddenly say, "Yeah, that's the one"? I guess there must be, otherwise nothing would ever get released. But how do they know?
I've often wondered about this when going to live concerts. The artists play their songs over and over and over, so surely they must get a little disenchanted with it. But that aside, I wonder how many of them would like to write a much better lyric, strum a much slicker bassline because after all those plays....it feels like it could be better.

I can't begin to explain my passion and feelings about music.

I've changed the bedshaped jukebox, listing 5 songs that I've listened to tonight. 5 songs that for me, hold such passion in the way they have been written, sung and played.

Mew "Comforting Sounds."
8 minutes and 45 seconds of sheer bliss.
From the beginning....just the simple guitar to gently lead into the next phase of the song. And then his vocal, an unusual voice. It's one of those songs that when you hear the beginning, you can anticipate the build up and hope, hope, hope that it grows into something full and beautiful.
It builds and builds into something quite lovely. The chord changes sink right into me and I want it to keep going....and it does.

"Why don't we share out solitude? Nothing is pure anymore, but solitude."

Leaves "Epitaph."
I don't much about Leaves, except the guy has a great voice, writes lovely lyrics and they sounds like.....well, like a band should.
From the gentle strumming of the acoustic guitar to the full blown violin finale, this song sounds almost prefect to me. I can close my eyes and completely lose myself in the way this song portrays itself. It's sheer beauty.
And that string section at the end....
This, for me, has the best ending to a song that I've heard in such a long, long time.

"What I should do instead, realise. I look at myself, I disappear. I can do that, but it's such an easy way out."

Iron & Wine "The Trapeze Swinger."
A song with no chorus. The story just keeps unfolding as more and more instruments kick in, meandering and weaving themselves into each other. It's the sort of song I can imagine hearing sat around a campfire. It's got a great 'outside' feel to it. It ends with some "Nah na nah's". How can it not be a great song if it has "nah na nah's"

"Please remember me, my misery and how it lost me all I wanted."

The Cardigans "Couldn't Care Less."
A sad song, a powerful song, a broken soul song. Her voice becomes a catalyst for each word she sings. Not the sort of song that's best listened to when you're feeling sombre, or reflective. It pretends to end....then it climbs back in with an outro that just finishes off the mood perfectly.

"Your back's not straight like before, you really couldn't carry me no more. I'm much too heavy for you. I'm really quite a mess."

The Vines "Amnesia."
They've done some shit, they've done some good stuff. This is, for me, their pinnacle and it will take something simply amazing to top this. The backing vocals that caress the bridge are just.....just....*le sigh*. Add a dose of complimentary guitar, with a hook that just digs in and wont let go and you will be halfway there.
Amazingly, the song has only 7 lines.

"I cannot remember my own sanity. God's love ain't forever, He'll set us free."

I have a whole 1 day off over the Easter break. Go me!
But I still know parts of this weekend are gonna be great.

But I'm speaking this wrong language, and everybody's talking too fast.

Some of my friends ethics must surely come into question when they feel the need to send me a text message at 6.30 am, announcing that Big Brothers' Chantelle and Preston are "gonna get spliced!"
Ok, so I'm a fan of the show, but not that much and besides anything else....at 6.30 in the morning, my brain can't even comprehend just what "getting spliced" means.

Shortly after sitting down here, my mobile phone bleeps again. This time it's my brother Pandy, asking if the Bosses at the Motor Company I work for were on crack when they decided to paint their latest sports model 'bright orange'. "It looks like a fucking cheesecake", he says.

Text messaging is a weird thing.
Imagine the withdrawal symptoms youngsters would have if texting became defunct for some reason. Their mobile's are practically glued to their hands and when they text....when they text it's just a blur, as their fingers tap the buttons at such speeds, I'm surprised they don't all get friction burns.

Time is against me at the moment, for one reason or another. Things will hopefully be easier for me towards the end of the week.

In other news, I've been bigged up by swisstoni as his 'Blog Of The Week'.
Feels kinda weird, but maybe it does show that I'm 'down with the kids' and my 'shit is cool'. Then again, he could have just been desperate this week.

Two jumps in a week, I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?

I'm so sorry....I've just cum.

Now let your mind do the walking, and let my hands do the soothing, let me show you the world in my eyes.

I wonder if she noticed my stumbling words at times
My tongue grew wide, my lips lost shape
The connection between my brain and my mouth lost
Ground control to Major Tom.

And I wonder if she felt my eyes on her shape
Tracing curves underneath her clothes
Smiling inside like some kid in a sweet shop
Wondering how long I could stop myself from touching her.

And I wonder if she wanted me to shut up
Just so she could see how the uncomfortable silences felt
Only to wrap them back up into words
And send them on their way to where she files the other crap.

And I wonder if she felt any bubbles in her stomach
Like the ones I felt, that turned the nervousness on its head
But still allowed itself to hang around in the background
Every now and then tugging me to make sure I was ok.

And I wonder if she felt disappointment in the realism
Once the paint in the picture of her imagination began to blur
As the puzzle that she'd been completing suddenly realised itself
The painting showing itself to be nothing more than a painting of hope.

And I wonder if she thought about the distance between my lips and hers
Distance that will never grow but always allows its presence to be felt
Depicted by the chalk lines that keep getting moved
A little rub out here, a little re-chalk there.

And I wonder if she felt my fingers trace my name upon her back
Slight and gentle my touch, so it wouldn't be discovered
As she lay there next to me with a glow about her
Magnified a hundred times by the smile in her eyes.

And I wonder if she felt the connection as we became one
Intertwined, melted, merging, blurring, moulding
Sharing something so precious and beautiful
As the world appeared to stop moving.

And I wonder if she caught me looking deep into her eyes, over coffee
Trying to catch a glimpse of her purity and finding nothing but beauty
Listening to her speak of everyday things and some guy she thought was famous
All I wanted to do was reach over and kiss her.

And I wonder if she looks back with a smile, as I do
Remembering the rollercoaster of emotions unfolding with every minute
Closing her eyes to allow her mind to feel our skin touching once more
And those kisses....those kisses.


Inspired by Betty Boo and lack of coffee.

No, seriously!

Some like it hot, so let's turn up the heat 'til we fry.

Today has without a doubt, been the worst day of my life at work.

Frustration levels have reached meltdown status and I really don't know how I've contained myself from walking into 3rd Time Lucky's office, handing him my keys and saying, "see ya later".

That said, the day is now over and I feel composed enough to allow my thoughts to focus on other things, since what happened today is now 'in the past' and there's fuck all I can do about it.

I have a mahoosive email from my brother Pandy to reply to. He's been offline for a while due to 'technical difficulties', but now appears to have resolved them...which is good.
I miss my brother and his family.

The conclusion on the Embrace album is that I can't really dig it. I want to love it, the same as all their previous albums, but this album from them, is like the "X and Y" album from Coldplay for me, which was and still is a struggle.

I feel in need of some relaxation....
The weekend beckons and I'm not quite sure what to expect.
I know what I'm hoping for, but that's another story for another time.

The wine in my fridge is calling my name.
I'm gonna make friends with The Reverend Al Green tonight.
I'm uptight....and not in the Stevie Wonder good stylee either.

Sade dit moi. Sade donne moi.

How come, when I've finished washing up....I feel around in the soapy water for anything hiding down the bottom of the sink and find nothing....
And yet, when the water is all drained out, there's always a fucking tea spoon at the bottom!

I don't even use an abundance of teaspoons, but there's always one of the little sods left in the remains of the soapy suds.

This would presumably be from the same conspiracy team as the disappearing sock during the washing and drying cycle. And let's not forget the people who set impossibly short 'use by dates' on the food!

New MP3's in the jukebox on the right.

Reach out and touch faith.

In the silence that fell
Deafening to their ears
Their eyes
Their eyes showed an understanding that any more words would be poorly spent.

The shape of a smile
Grew on her lips
Her eyes
Her eyes closed tightly with an anticipation of a slight touch.

Startled by cold flesh
His finger traced
His eyes
His eyes following the traces of her life, depicted by her scars.

Warm breath felt on her lips
Brushed ever so slight
Their eyes
Their eyes closed in perfect pair, as she felt his mouth drawn to her side.

"I've found you"
He softly spoke
And her eyes
Her eyes began to fill with butterflies and beauty.

I wish I could laugh, but that joke isn't funny anymore.

I don't push myself enough and I only have myself to blame.

Speaking to my folks earlier, they can sense my frustration and tell me that I'm trying to do too much in not enough time.
How can there be not enough time?
Time is surely something I have plenty of, bar being at work, that is.

I'm sure it's more down to piss poor planning on my behalf, but then....I've never been very good at planning things.
I guess I'm a typical guy when it comes down to keeping time.
I say I'm gonna be 10 minutes, when I know full-well it's gonna be more like 20.
I say I will be there by 8pm and arrive later that what would be deemed 'fashionably late'.

In essence, I guess I'm unreliable when it comes down to timekeeping.
Of course, it doesn't help that other people are always so forgiving about it. Perhaps I need somebody to tell me that it's unacceptable and things need to change.

The viscous circle of work is beginning to haunt me once again. If it wasn't for the fact that I like working directly with 'people' so much, I would have jacked this job in a long time ago. I keep setting myself 'goals' to aim for, as far as my studying goes, but something else always seems to get in the way. The annoying thing is, it's not even important stuff that's sidetracking me, it's purely down to me taking the 'easy way out'.
Deep down, I know that this viscous circle will never be broken unless I take a sledge-hammer and break it myself.

I'm tired....
Tired of making do. Tired of accepting what is dealt to me and tired of being so amicable about how my life is going.
I know that I'm worth so much more than my current status.

It's times like this, I'm gonna really miss Leon.

Look at us, through the lens of a camera.

What is about people who can't help but try to look too far ahead?

I'm conscious that I'm doing it and no matter how much I try to stop myself, my mind persists.

Not even out of the starting blocks and already my mind is doing slow motion playbacks of the finish line.
I guess that's what they say about "learning from experience".

Today, I've been repeatedly invited out. There seems to be a lot of opportunity out there tonight and some of my friends are gonna grab them some of it.
Opportunity can't be such a bad thing, huh?

I've taken the "Not tonight, I have other plans" route, when in fact, I have no plans at all. Well, there's something I'd like to do later, but that's between me, my monitor and the spliff I'm smoking.

A strange thing happened in the pub just after work. We sat there having a chat, as we do....and I noticed the guy sitting opposite holding his mobile right up. After me doing a double take, I realised his mobile was pointing straight at me, as in, the camera part of the phone was directed right at me. I continued to look straight at the lens, hoping it would make him whince and stop whatever he was doing. My special 'stare' look seemed to have failed, as he continued pointing it right at me.
I still have no idea if he was just reading a text message, or actually taking a picture.
If he was reading a text, then he's either the worlds slowest reader, or the message was extremely long...and possibly contained long words that he might have been struggling with. Either that or he was actually taking a picture, which makes me think two things:

1) What the fuck for?
2) I hope he caught my good side!

I have changed my day off this week from Thursday to Saturday. This may leave me slightly knackered by the end of the week, although that could be a good thing.

After more repeated listening of the new Embrace CD, I'm pleased to announce that Im leaning more to the "I like" side of the fence. Jamie Foxx, I kinda disappointed with, but The Yeah Yeah Yeahs is brilliant and I'm also loving this new Sanchez chill out mix cd as well.

Music....Oh how I love you so x