It's heaven for now but not for long. It's gonna hurt you, it's going to make you feel so bad.

How must it feel when somebody you really love dies?

When you've been in a relationship, that ends against your wishes and you feel like your heart has been ripped out, you can actually feel like the other person has died. It can feel like you've just 'lost' somebody from your life in one swift swoop.
So when your partner dies....how absolutely terrible must that feel....

The Worst Thing

The face in the water looks up. And she shakes her head as if to say, that it's the last time you'll look like today.

How long into a relationship is it ok to fart?

Don't get me wrong, I'm no Windy Miller. I'm lucky enough to have bodily functions that don't build up gaseous eruptus in my guts and then make it nigh on impossible to keep squeezing the little bugger in. My friend The Blagger more than makes up for that.

I have to admit that if The Girl were to 'let one rip', then I wouldn't be too bothered. So long as she didn't make a facade out of it by cocking her leg up and announcing that she was gonna 'toot', or worse still asking me, "Quick, pull my finger!"
Is this a sign that the relationship has moved on to the next level? The level that now permits the occasional bottom burp?

Questions about relationships....? Yeah, I have many. Who doesn't?
Does it ever get to the point where you stop questioning yourself about the relationship you're in and it just becomes an acceptable thing. I don't mean that to sound as bland as it does. What I mean is....when do the "what if's" stop?
It's not even that you want the "what if's" to be there in the first place. I guess they just hang around to remind you about all the shitty stuff in the past.

I'm not sure many people realise just how much of a huge step it is to be able to say to yourself...."Yes....I want this and everything else that comes with it" and laying your bare heart and soul right down in front of somebody, without worrying that a dirty, shit sodden shoe is gonna come down and squish all your hopes and dreams. Especially when they've been trampled on before.

I find myself completely in awe of her.

The recovery from the V Festival continues. Today, I've got off my chair at work and felt the aches and pains of an 80 year old. Maybe I'm getting too old for all this malarky. Staying up 'til all hours, watching the sun set and then attempt to rise again before my head hits the make-shift pillow.
Pandy called me yesterday. He chatted away, but in reality I think he wanted to talk about how fucking amazing the weekend was. He said his daughter Blue enjoyed it so much, that if next year he doesn't go, she's gonna go again with her mates.
My work here is done.

I can now conclude, after much ear bending, that the new Muse album is full of pretentious choral blankets, oversized guitar solos and a wall of sound to rival Phil Spector.
And what's with all the dramatic drumming?
You're not in a fucking marching parade, you're in a rock band. Bash the shit out of those fuckers!!!
Matt's voice is as whiney and meandering as ever. His words are tongue twistedly delicious.
At times it's completely OTT and so melodramatic, it almost folds on itself and ends up going up it's own arse.

I love it!

I gave her a bracelet, she gave me her heart.

The bedshaped jukebox thingy has been updated, on the right.

Know what's on my mind, there's only one thing you will find. I got one design and that's to bump you 'til you drop.

Dear Robbie,

I've been a 'backseat' fan of yours for a while now. I can't say that I cared much for the Take That stuff, but when you broke away from the band and tried to find your own direction, I became more interested in you.
My interest grew when I found out that you were becoming a chronic alcoholic and drug abuser and your life was falling apart around your ears. That probably sounds very strange and possibly against a more natural reaction from your army of fans, who would have been more likely to have written you off at this point.
Not I.

I'm afraid I'm not the type of fan of yours that thinks everything you do is fantastic. Far from it. "Lazy days" was pants and "Radio" was a huge pile of steaming doo-doo. I can only hope you take such criticism with a pinch of salt, although deep down you may be nodding quietly? But stonkers like "Let love be your energy" came right out of nowhere and redeemed my love for you.
Your interviews have been few and far between, so it's been difficult to sift through the utter bollocks that the tabloids would like your fans to believe. The books that have been published appear to be the same one recycled, edited and reprinted, so it's been difficult to understand more about you and your life, especially when you sometimes make it so obvious how unhappy with your life you are. And that's what fascinates me.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of weird obsessive stalker or anything. I'm just really interested in somebody who's so successful and yet so unhappy.
A few years ago, you announced to the world that you were 'clean'. How could that be anything but brilliant news because the last thing your fans wanted was to wake up to headlines of "Robbie found dead!"
Can I be frank here? I just think you've got more control over yourself now. I wonder if you're as 'clean' as you say you are.

Anyway, let's move on to the purpose of this.
"Rudebox"
So different.
So simple.
So brutal.
So absolutely removed from anything you've done before and I love it!
This may win you a few more fans, but I also wonder how many of your followers will listen to it, jaw dropped and wonder just what the fuck you've done.
It's a brave move and I can do nothing but take my hat off to you Sir.

Driven by a drum pattern taken straight from some old skool 70's funk and complimented by a bassline that's reminiscent of some 80's breakdance beat. Stir that in with some rough 'toasting', the occasional spikey keyboard and mix your vocal through a vocoder and you have created something that sounds like it's an outtake from Prince's "Black Album".
Sheer genius!

Already the radio play is splitting people between loving and hating it, with very few sitting on the fence. This is what we want. This is what I wanted to hear you do. Something brave, experimental and so un-Robbie that it makes me sit up and listen.
Congratulations to you on being confident enough to say "fuck you" to your Record Company Executives when they heard the mixes, with a shocked look on their faces and a feeling that one of their biggest money spinners may be about to throw his career away. And an even bigger pat on the back for wanting to be different enough, in the hope that listeners will shut the fuck up and appreciate an artist who might just possibly have moved onto another level.

I would like to place my bollocks on the line and declare that for me, this is without doubt the best thing you've ever done.

By the way, you look 'wasted' in the video.
My compliments to you, once again.

Best regards,
bedshaped x


If you haven't heard it yet, it's here.

Trudging slowly over wet sand, back to the bench where your clothes were stolen.

My washing machine is my new best friend.
I will overlook the fact that it's still eating the occasional sock!

My iron however....
My iron looks crippled and decrepit and still has a long road ahead of it.

No bottles they said. There were bottles all over the campsite.
Airhorns are banned. They blew every night.
Fireworks are strictly forbidden. The sky lit up each evening until the early hours.
It makes you wonder why they even search your bags, which is a half hearted 'pat' and prod, coupled with "Have you got any bottles, glass, airhorns or fireworks in your bag?"

I think I'll feel back to myself by the end of the week.

Sadly, the eyeliner didn't get much of a look in, but the latex gloves were worth their weight in gold!

Barged our way into the toilet with the kung fu king. There's not enough hours in the day.

It was Sex and Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll, just without the sex.

For anybody that's never been to a music festival, it's almost impossible to explain the atmosphere, the people, the music, the vibe. The feeling generated from all those thousands of people who have come there for the same reason....A love of music.

It's not something you forget quickly, standing next to Scooby Doo whilst Radiohead deafened us with an amazingly uplifting version of "Pananoid Android". Scrappy was there too, but he didn't look like he was feeling the vibe as much, which figures, 'cos Scrappy was shit!

Grown men partaking in some naked mud-wrestling. A bunch of people all dressed for a wedding, Bride and Groom included. The obligatory superhero's present, although I can't remember seeing Spiderman. He was probably lay comatose somewhere after one too many smokes.

The rain came down, but it was short and sweet. Enough though, to create sloppy mud paths to and fro. Enough also, to prevent the 'shit-wagons' from being able to get access to clean out the toilets on our campsite. The 'trying to be helpful' signs might as well have said "Danger. Condemned!" for it was worth. Within an hour of the Arena being open, people turned a blind eye to the 'Toilets this way' signs and made do with anywhere within a 20 foot walk from where they were standing.
Guys doing their usual "I don't give a fuck who sees me take a leak", girls doing their usual "everybody crowd around me so nobody else can see me stooping".
Yeah....like anybody wants to watch a girl take a piss!
Apart from the golden shower fetish crew, of course!

Dodgeball was a great experience, shared with a few hundred people in the small hours of Saturday morning. Although the bunch of guys who kept shouting out quotes did get a little tiring after a while. They finally calmed down after about 40 minutes, although I think it may be because they passed out.

I have it on good authority that the guy from Hollyoaks isn't as hot in real life as he is on the show. Apparently I was standing right next to him and remained oblivious to everybody around us whispering, "Isn't that the guy from...." I think I might have stood on his foot briefly.

I return £80 lighter, a necklace lost somewhere in the middle of Radiohead's set, 3 full loads of dirty washing to get through, a sore navel ring, twice the amount of beer that I took originally, a bemused feeling of being possibly the only person I know who doesn't get Beck and a sentiment of warmth having donated my tent to charity.

Standing hair on the back of my neck moment - Gomez
Biggest let down - Hard Fi

I drank too much beer, I smoked too much grass, I didn't get enough sleep and I missed The Girl terribly.
I did however survive and got completely lost in the music.

Oh and I ditched Razorlight for Groove Armada. "I see you baby, shakin' that ass!"

You've got to let yourself go, 'til the morning comes.

Friday morning, I head off for a weekend of indulgence.

Until Monday afternoon, I will be at the V Festival, enjoying much music of all varieties, soaking up an atmosphere that I just can't even begin to explain and generally getting off my tits.

I wish The Girl was coming with me. Many different factors have meant this isn't to be.
These next few days are going to be the most time we've gone with such minimal contact. I'll have my mobile with me, so there will be text messages and phone calls between us, but nothing like our 'normal' fashion.
Sometimes words are just never enough.


The music in the jukebox on the right has been updated.
It appears the groove that I had temporarily lost, has once again been found.

Right now is the way it's going to be, from now until forever. Let's have less of getting clever with me.

I bet Levis never saw this coming.

Making jeans can't be a straight-forward process anymore. Long gone are the times when all they had to do was set the machines to whichever style of cut and off you go.
Now, making jeans must have doubled in production time, because making the jeans to the 'cut' is only half the job done. Once cut and stitched together, they must undergo all manner of things, like being dragged through dirt, set partly on fire, ripped with a blunt knife, washed with stones, shredded, picked at, scuffed, scrubbed, mutilated, soaked with bleaches and all manner of different colours, dragged on and off a dummy model to get the 'worn feel'.

Anyway....no point to that. It's just something I thought about while I was sat on the step, having a smoke.

Over the past couple of weeks, anonymous calls have been made to my mobile. When I say anonymous, it's most likely somebody with-holding their number. Most of them I've ignored because I don't like answering calls from an unknown number and always think if it's a genuine call, they will leave me a message.
No messages.
I've picked the call up a couple of times, both being hung up on straight away.
A couple of times, the mobile has only rung a couple of times before being hung up. Sometimes nothing for 3 or 4 days, then 4 or 5 times a day. The ones before 6am aren't really that funny.
Today, my mobile rang. "Unknown number" on the screen, so I ignored it and switched the ring to silent. A minute later a text message tells me I have a new ansafone message.
I listen....
It's a song. A song I know. It also sounds like the person timed it just right so I would hear a certain few lines of the song, then hung up.
Seems like somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to make sure I heard that. And for what? Am I supposed to listen to the words and all of a sudden think of a certain person.
I did....The Girl.
And I also wonder what the person has been doing since they left me that message. Are they sitting there, waiting for me to call them? Are they waiting for a knock at the door or a similar message back? Are they sitting there, feeling all smug 'cos they got their important point across (it must be important, right, to go to all that trouble) and feeling confident that I have understood their message?
If they don't hear anything from me, will they give me some more of the song?
If it's one of my friends playing a joke, then I just don't get it.

So....the important stuff.
I've packed my tent back up after being pitched up in the garden for a few days to air out. I've washed through my sleeping back and sorted out all the clothes I'm taking with me. I'm doing the 'shop' on Thursday evening after work. That will be the last of the things to sort out, so Friday morning will be me waking up, packing the last things and setting off.
I appear to be a lot more organised this year.
This makes me worried that something won't go according to plan.

The pessimist in me beats the optimist any day of the week.

Tomorrow, I'm gonna be with The Girl.
Somewhere I long to be.
In who's arms I love to fall asleep in.

You work by committee, you had me pegged from the start.

a punch toy volunteer

a weakling on its knee

is all you want to hear

and all you want to see

All this talk of getting old, it's getting me down my love.

It's been a weird day.

Work was unsurprisingly shit.
I went to visit the folks and Pandy.

Sunday night....in 5 nights time, I will be sat under the stars at the V Festival. Probably stoned, but almost certainly smiling.
I have a list....
I wrote it out last night and added a couple of things earlier today, so when I saw Pandy we could compare....It appears he hasn't even done a list. We bounced around ideas anyway.

I have the main things covered:
Clothes - check
Loo Roll - check
Gear - pending further investigation
Tent - check
Sleeping bag - check
Munchies - arrangements have been made for a midnight shop
Ticket - check
Eyeliner - check
Mirror for above - check

This could be the most amazing weekend of this year, so far. It's only missing one thing....le sigh....

Tomorrow, I may be having my third tattoo done. It all depends on if he gets chance to draw my design out properly. A phone call is in order tomorrow, to see if there's a slim chance.
It's been a long time coming, this third design of mine, but I think we're almost there now.

I walk outside and try to see you right in front of me. Silhouette of something sweet and so bright .

It's heavy in the clouds above.

An old man sits alone on a park bench
Watching the world go by
As he always liked to.

Heavy on the eyes, hard of hearing
It was all that loud music
His mother always warned him.

An old cloth cap to hide his baldness
Glasses perched on his nose for assistance
As and when needed.

Watching the world go by in front of him
While his mind plays back memories
In black and white
And slow motion.

Of the years he spent walking a journey
That ultimately led him nowhere
Except full circle.

He always thought he'd be dead by now
Not so much 'live fast die young'
More just....die young.

His skin wears sores from the slipping and the falling
The years have added their unsteadiness
And stifled his pace.

His flame is all about to die out
But his heart is still beating
To the percussion that is life.

But it's still heavy in the clouds above.

New songs on the right, reflecting my mood.

Just remember your song and don't forget to keep singing.

When she left....

Strands of her hair on my pillow
Her smell on my sheets
Hand prints on my window.

An empty glass
Beside the empty cup
Traces of her lips on the edge.

Conversations of silence
Laughter for one
Hugs of invisibility.

The house has gown huge again
Twice the size
With only half the people.

Starsky with no Hutch
Rain with no clouds
A fish without a bicycle.

Not a feeling on loneliness,
Just a feeling of being
alone.

I don't care if you're black or blue. Me and the stars stay up for you.

How does a porn star maintain a relationship?
With your average couple who you would see here, there and everywhere driving their cars, doing their shopping, cutting the grass, painting the fence et al....the 'normal everyday things'....their sex lives are hidden behind closed doors (in most cases).
Their most intimate moments are private.
In the case of a porn star, their most intimate moments are thrown in peoples faces, so the whole 'fantasy' of sex behind closed doors gets shattered. And would that then mean that their 'behind closed doors' thing, from another persons point of view, would be the mundane things like cutting the grass or shopping for groceries.
Does it like....flip round?

In their relationship, I wonder if the person who isn't in the porn industry, gets over the whole jealousy factor by thinking, "Well it's me who they chose to go shopping with, it's me who they choose to chill out and watch a movie with, it's me who they go to sleep and wake up with."
The jealousy thing would surely tear you up though, right?
Your partner, who you love, doing intimate things with 'other people' would surely screw your head up, right?
How do these people hold it together?

Here's the scene:
A guy and his girlfriend in bed together. Advances are made, you know the score and he's at the point where he's playfully teasing her and about to 'go down'.
The thing is, this guy is a geanochologist....a gynecologyst....a 'fanny doctor' for want of a better phrase.
Just as his lips are about to touch hers, he blurts out, "Oh shit, I forgot to write up Mrs Badcrumbles' notes!"

How stupid am I!? I don't even know if a gaenachologyst (AKA Dr pour la Fanny) is a Doctor who also looks after guys....erm....'downstairs' issues, in which he case I should have referred to one as a fannydick doctor.

Work was shit.
BMW phoned me and asked me to send them an up to date CV.
The Blagger phoned me to get my arse into gear re; the above.
The Tattoo place was closed when I phoned them earlier today.
Drinks machine...."out of cups"
Fucking thing!

The Cv isn't going well....
Only one person to blame as I lit the end.
Twice
And all I can think about is fannydick doctors.

Our wrongs remain unrectified and our souls won't be exhumed.

I've always found it impossible to come up with a 'Top 10' list of my favourite albums.
My tastes change constantly and something I listened to 5 years ago can suddenly become my most played album.

Years ago, when an artist released an album, you would basically get 2 or 3 really strong songs, a couple of 'OK' tracks and the rest would be throwaway stuff. Otherwise known as 'album fillers'. This was never a big deal because 'singles' would always been seen as the driving force behind an artists' success. Occasionally an artist would release a blinder, creating an album of completely listenable tunes from start to finish.

Nowadays, the pressure on artists to release an album brimming with outstanding songs must be huge. Critics are quick to shoot down releases that only have a few standout tracks on them, even though a few years ago, that would have been deemed a "great album".

My preference, is for an album of decent enough songs that are not so bad that they're offending to listen to. I don't have any problem with occasional crap, so long as there's enough good stuff to tip the scales in a positive way.

I've just been sat on the back step, having a cheeky smoke and wondering....If I had to get rid of all of my music and just keep one album to listen to for the rest of the month, I'd choose "Green" by R.E.M.
If I remember to think about that again tomorrow, it would be a completely different album.

I collected my tickets today:



Faithless, Radiohead, Morrissey, Beck, Paul Weller, Keane, Razorlight, Kasabian, The Charlatans, Editors, Fatboy Slim, Groove Armada, The Go! Team, Rufus Wainwright, Bloc Party, Hard Fi, The Ordinary Boys, Starsailor, Girls Aloud, The Beautiful South, The Magic Numbers, Sugababes, We Are Scientists, James Dean Bradfield, Kano, Gomez, Sandi Thom, The Cooper Temple Clause, Mew, The Dears, The Cardigans, Delays, Echo And The Bunnymen, Nerena Pallot, My Morning Jacket, Pipettes, Matisyahu, Bell X1, The Divine Comedy, The Dandy Warhols, Orson, The Feeling, Xavier Rudd, Imogen Heap, Regina Spektor, The Crimea, The Dead 60's, Kubb, Kula Shaker, Morning Runner, Matt Willis, Richard Hawley, Jamie T, Oceansize, Daniel Powter, Gavin De Graw, Biffy Clyro, The Rifles, Phoenix, Bic Runga, Art Brut, Liam Front and the Slowdown Family, The Saw Doctors, Dogs, The Young Knives, Jim Noir, Rushmore, Lily Allen, Pure Reason Revolution, Mute Math, Boy Least Likely To, Captain, Lorraine, The Upper Room, James Morrison, Paulo Nutini, Butch Walker, Seth Lakeman, Director, The Grates, The Milk Teeth and The Dodgems.