She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I'd ever seen.

My plans for tonight fell through.
I've been left to my own devices to keep myself amused:

Take one egg.
Break it open.
Empty the yolk.
Wash out the two shells.
Take one black marker pen.
Draw pupils on said eggshells.
Grip egg shells with eyebrow and top of cheek.
Take one mobile phone.
Record myself dancing.
Send video to four people on my mobile phone.
Await results.



Only Bling has replied so far, meaning either the others haven't received it or they have no idea what to make of it and have subsequently dialed for the emergency services.
Bling sent me a video of him dropping his jeans and waving his arse at me.
Nothing I haven't seen before.

*edit*
The Blagger has just replied....with a clip of him talking out of his arse, literally.

What is it about me that my friends insist on showing me their arses!

Friends say it's fine, friends say it's good. Everybody says it's just like rock 'n' roll.

I love the winter.
It's my favourite season out of them all.
The dark evenings, the icy mornings and the lovely feeling you get when your breath takes flight in smoke from your lips.
Plants appear frozen in time, white crystal dust covers the window sills and steps are taken lightly, just in case you slip over on your arse or even worse....somebody else sees you doing it.
As autumn blankets the UK, I'm just wishing it away, so winter can arrive.

And what of work? Well, work is shit. I'm finding myself sat there just dreaming the day away and that's never a good thing.
I'm not sure what to do about it just yet. It's not just as easy as getting another job. I have more things to consider on that front. So that leaves me in some state of reticence.

In fact, that pretty much sums me up at the moment. I appear to have come up against some junction. Not just a crossroads, but a huge, fuck off junction with traffic lights and one way road and all sorts.
I never imagined that I would ever get to this junction. I always thought I'd bypass it.

After almost 6 months, the desire is supposed to fade a little, yeah?

I'm having up and down days, but despite that, I'm really happy being me at the moment. In fact, I'm having the best time at the moment being me.

And what shakes the elephant and what makes the man.

I really, really want to see Damien Rice play. He's got new album out in November sometime, so hopefully, he will tour after the album release. I'd travel to see him.

Musical tastes this week have been mostly the new Scissor Sisters album, Christina Aguwhatsit's latest offering, Paulo Nutini (which is just brilliant), Kate Bush, The Fratellis and some compilation from the nineties with all the Madchester stuff on it.
"You're twisting my melons, man!"

I've found out today that The Delays are supporting Embrace when I see them. I love The Delays, so this is like a multiple orgasm for me.
The Killers tickets have all failed me. I tried a friend of a friend of a friend who works at the venue to get me on the guestlist, but that also appears to be a flogging a dead horse scenario.

Ain't no other man, can stand up next to you. Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do.

Another bad dream.

I have found out who is calling my mobile anonymously. It's The Girls' ex.
My mobile rang at 3.13am this morning. It woke me from what felt like a sound sleep. Bleary eyed, I saw on the screen what I pretty much expected, "anonymous calling". Instead of ignoring it as I usually do, I picked up the call. I said nothing, just listening. On the other end of the phone I could hear calm, gentle breathing, followed by a couple of breathy sighs. Then a voice....

"I'm only going to say this once to you, so listen very carefully. You think you're in a relationship with The Girl, but you're wrong. You're very wrong. She is just a little confused about things, but I'm not. She is meant to be with me and nothing and nobody will ever stand in our way.
This isn't so much as a warning, more of a statement of fact. She WILL be with me because nobody else can have her."

....and with that, he hung up.

The next thing is gonna sound a little unbelievable, but I woke up from this bad dream, went to the toilet, got myself a drink of water and lay back down to drift back off. I hadn't fallen back into deep sleep, when my mobile started ringing. I looked at the screen and sure enough it was "anonymous calling".
My heart sank, my stomach twisted and I felt myself swallow hard.
I left it to ring out....no message....thank fuck for that.

Just what is it that you want to do? We wanna be free, we wanna be free, to do what we wanna do.

What is it about training courses?

This afternoon, I had the delight of attending a training course/refresher. Nice venue, but the coffee was shit.
The guy who 'took' the course befits the name Mr Excitable. Any questions thrown at him were not dissimilar to throwing a dog a bone. He almost 'fizzed' with enthusiasm, so much so that it was almost off-putting.
Ok, so he's got a training job to do.
Ok, so he's enthusiastic about the products.
Ok, so he can't be seen to just sit there and 'deliver' the training/refresher course with about as much enthusiasm as a gay guy in a brothel, but purleeese.
This guy was acting like he'd been doing lines of coke in the toilets during the breaks. Honestly, he was so buzzed up, at one point I thought he might spontaneously combust.

Everytime I go to a training session, I always pick the 'wrong seat'. The 'wrong seat' would be the one next to the table with the worlds most boring person also sat at.
Enter Mr Monotone.
Unfortunately, I'd already spent 20 minutes sitting in the waiting lounge, drinking coffee whilst listening to him go onnnn and onnnn about things that evoke as much excitement in me as if I were faced with 20 public toilets to clean....with my mouth.
Not only was Mr Monotone....erm...very monotone, but he was the kinda delegate who couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. Ok, so in some cases these kind of people have something relevant to say, but when he said, "I have a story about that scenario" for the umpteenth time, even Mr Excitable told him "none of us really want to hear that story".
At the beginning of the training session, he presented himself as a person who had been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
By the end of the session, he had not only emerged as one of the weaker people in the room, but his knowledge was so bad that it became very apparent he had been costing his Company lots of money. And when I say lots, I mean lots.
I left the training session with a little more knowledge and a nice pen. Now if it had have been a pencil....

It's one of the only training courses I can remember, where the tutor hasn't said anything about "sucking eggs".
The relief!

From the training venue to my parents house....
The Mission: To repair their supposedly broken computer.
It was indeed poorly, but not broken. A little movement here, a little jiggery-pokery there. A few scans and wipe downs, reboots and analytical skills and the old devil was performing up to speed once again.
I actually have no idea how I fixed it, but my folks seem to think I am Bill Gates, so why destroy the myth, huh?
A late addition to the itinerary, was my dad announcing that their surround sound system wasn't set up right. They've had this system, for about a year now and now he moans that it's not working right.
"The booms, crashes and explosions are all ok, but I can't hear what they are saying when it's just speaking."
There followed some more jiggery-pokery, involving me pressing buttons on the remote control unit that's got more buttons that the Pussycat Dolls! And they've got loads!
Problem solved, although once again, I'm not quite sure how. But that's not important, huh?

I bid my farewell with a "I'll send my bill on email tomorrow", only to be met with blank looks.

I have the most uncool parents in the world.

Not like The Girl. She tells me tonight that the relationship she has with her mother is more like a sisterly thing. Apparently, they have discussions about things that would normally be saved for slightly merry scenarios with your friends in some pub somewhere.

With this in mind, I'm not sure I'm ever gonna be able to look her mum in the eyes again.
Not that I'm now worried or anything....
"parp"

And all the grown ups say "sorry kids we got no reply'".

She said to me today, "When are you gonna sort your own life out, nevermind trying to help out others?"
And I replied, "I know what I want out of my life. I'm just helping some other people on the way."
And with that, she went "hrumph", with a shrug of her shoulders.
Nothing more was said.

My mum can be a funny old bitch.

Now, if I wrote you a love note, and made you smile with every word I wrote (what would you do?)

Tonight, I've mostly been cleaning.
And throwing things out.

As The Girl quite rightly pointed out earlier today, when I do this routine of cleaning or tidying or organizing, it's usually down to me feeling low about something. It's not so much that I'm feeling low, it's more that I'm feeling a little out of control with my life.
Things have been happening that have made me stall on my journey and pause for thought. The path that I thought I would take no longer seems like the right direction. The destination is almost the same, but the way to get there has changed.
It's all down to being with The Girl. She's changed the way I think about things and our relationship has developed to a level that I never in a million years would have imagined reaching. In fact, it's a level that I've never reached before.
Where as before I was pretty much convinced of where I would be in say....five years time. Now it's all kinda blurry. Although, through the haze, I can see myself still heading in the same direction, just from a different point of view. From a different perspective.

Trying to explain how I felt about her, I said something like this:
"It's like....when you go into a sweet shop with your change. And you get absolutely everything you want with every last penny you have. There's nothing left in there that you want. You've got everything."
Right then she put her arms around me and gave me a hug that just blew my mind.

Young love, eh?

Work....well work is still slow. They are gonna fire the Business manager at the end of the month. They already have his replacement lined up to start the day after he goes. He has absolutely no idea about any of this. I would feel sorry for the guy, but quite frankly, he's been a very naughty boy.
Loopy, a salesgirl I work with, has a serious ex boyfriend stalker. He rings, they shout, he texts, she scoffs, he drives by, she tries to ignore. It appears to be grinding her down and I can't help but feel sorry for her. It can't be nice.
Mr Happy, who works on service reception is becoming a good friend. We seem to have a lot in common and he's just very easy to talk with. Apart from the fact he's always bloody smiling. He's just got 'one of those faces'. I've given Mr Happy a copy of the Radiodread CD. I appear to have this current 'thing' of wanting to know what other people think.

My financial situation may be saved from hitting 'critical status' by the fact that I'm paid in two days time. I think this is the only time since I've been in this place, that I've really, really craved pay-day. This is possibly not a good sign considering how quiet we are at work and also the next few months are traditionally quiet anyway, so my chances of a good month are slim to none (and slim just left town).

Oh well, could be worse.

Recently, I've stumbled upon some great posts about Blogging. This is a great example of some of Blogging ethics and both here and here are some equally brilliant posts on commenting and such and such.
I find the whole blogging thing kinda fascinating, don't you?

New songs in MP3 format to download from the jukebox, on the right, by the way.

So please give me another chance to write you another song and take back those things I've done.

Last night our relationship moved on to a new level.
In the light of two recent discoveries about The Girl, I'm now finding new reasons to question our relationship.

Having her within 10 feet of one of these little peskies and she will do her best impersonation of a screaming banshee.






Why are they called Daddy Long Legs? Is that just a stupid nickname for them because their correct name is one of those eloquent Latin names. It's probably 'bodyminscule-longlegetus-creepitum' or something.

My job for the first hour of us being together was to 'sweep' the rooms on a regular basis to ensure none of these blighters got in. A few of them slipped under the perimeter and were subsequently caught and released back outside by me. In a way I saved their lives because I had already seen The Girl reach for her shoe.

She has also revealed to me that she has a favourite breast. This came on the back of me jokingly saying "that one's my favourite", whilst gesturing with my eyes and nodding towards one of her breasts. With this, she replied that not only did she also have a 'favourite' but it was also the same as the one I picked.
Girls have favourite breasts? Does this also mean that guys have favourite testicles and it's something I've never really caught on with?

We got a little bit drunk, a little bit stoned.
At one point she took up a Tae Kwan Do stance against me. At least that's what I thought it was until she revealed it was in fact a Tae Bo stance. My initial fear was therefore pointless because let's face it....what was she gonna do....get fit in front of me?
The competition between us to blow the biggest bubble from gum failed miserably, however the giant chocolate buttons went down a treat.

So, Justin Timberlake's new album then huh?
Well, it's a Timbaland production, that's for sure. In my opinion it's head and shoulders above his debut solo effort, the songs are much better constructed and it's simply oozing with hooks. The main thing that strikes me is that it just sounds so....well, so Prince. There's influences of early, peak time and post name change Prince in most of the tracks, which is an interesting thought, because for me, I found most of the tracks for his debut album more of a Michael Jackson strain.
And how frustrating is it when the 'bonus track' is actually one of the best tracks on there. Does this mean the track in question isn't on all the pressed CD's and if so....why? Ok, so a different remix would be an acceptable norm, but a fresh track, with Snoop as well! What are they thinking?!

I haven't heard anything from the friend of a friend who does the favour thingy about The Killers tickets. There was a slight murmer of hope that we could have got ourselves on the guest list on the door, but alas the silence means it's probably not gonna happen. He did reveal something interesting though. On the morning in question, within 2 minutes of the official time the tickets got released, they shut their server down, thus rendering their website useless and flicked something on their phone system so all anybody could hear was that lady saying, "This is a BT announcement. All lines are busy, please try again later. You have not been charged for this call." So apparently....or is that allegedly....all the tickets except a small handful got sold to the people who were actually queued up outside the venue.

Ok, so I didn't manage to get tickets and if I'd have given it more thought, I would have driven over there myself and queued up with everybody else. The fact that I've never failed in securing concert tickets before probably gave me a little too much confidence.
That said, I'm really pleased to hear that the majority of the tickets were bought up by people who actually went to the venue and waited in the queues.

I would like to hope this could be a possible move forward to stop ticket touts buying up the tickets, then selling them for extortionate prices on Ebay et al. Although that said, within no time at all tickets for the gig were on Ebay, with some people asking £100 each.

Karma police, arrest this man. He talks in maths. He buzzes like a fridge. He's like a detuned radio.

Just how unproductive can one person be?

I've had a crap day. This morning I spent two hours on the phone, in synch with trying to get onto websites, all in the aid of getting tickets to see The Killers. I was unsuccessful. This now means I am waiting to hear from a guy, who is a friend of a friend, to try and call in a favour. I wont know if anything will come to fruition until tomorrow evening.
Next up was checking my bank balance in the hope that not only would the cost of the tickets be there, but also I'd have enough to go and buy some things like paint and skirting board. I'm looking decidedly thin on the ground in the financial department. I know I've spent out a lot lately, what with the V Festival and all that, but I didn't quite realise the pending disaster.
Oh well.

With no chance of opening my wallet today, I resided to sit around and sulk for a good hour. Here I was with a whole day off....to myself, feeling lost.
I have loads to do. I mean loads. So where was my motivation? Where was my drive and enthusiasm? Where the hell did all this down time come from?

The result of the day off so far has included me washing up, washing through the bedclothes, breaking down some broken tree branches and burning a few CD's. I could have normally done all that in an hour, but no....No, today I seem to be on slo-motion mode.

Over the last few days I've grown a beard. Not a full faced hairy Grizzly Adams style beard, just a little one, fairly tidy and short. This wasn't done out of laziness, nor from me being bored. It was done because I knew we were getting a visit from one of the mega high Directors of the Company sometime this week. He hates beards. I know this because when he's met Saleguys with beards before, he's made no bones about the fact he hates them, usually by telling the guy right there and then. He's old school in his thoughts and methods and is convinced people don't like to talking to guys with beards.
When we know we're getting these visits, there's always the 'extra effort' to tidy up and make sure everything's in it's right place. It feels like we're awaiting a visit from Royalty or something. Then there's the extra visits from other bosses to make sure everything's good so they don't get embarrassed.
All this fuss. And for what? 20 minutes at best, most of which is spent in offices anyway.
Well the fucker turned up, but today! On my damn day off!
That's the beard going then.

In a moment of spontaneity, I've spoke to The Blagger and after I've had a nice, hot bath and got changed, I'm going over to his place. He's invited me for the evening and to stay over. Unfortunately Krusty is also gonna be there, so there's no point in me taking the lube then, huh.

We hope your rules and wisdom choke you, now we are one in everlasting peace

Last night, The Blagger came round.

I haven't been that stoned for a long, long time.
The end of evening saw me sat on my step, The Blagger stood behind me talking some bollocks and me listening intently to every word he said, but unable to even answer. I had trouble stringing even two words together, let alone a sentence. Thus, the evening ended just after 11.
Lightweights, huh?

Work has been the usual laborious stench, only lifted by the lady who collected her new car from me this afternoon. Her face was a picture and she was so excited, I'm surprised she didn't pee herself!

After work, a few of us went over the pub to see Mrs Osborne off. She's leaving and going on to pastures new, after spending the last 12 months manning our Service Reception desk. The Blagger joined us, along with his girlfriend, Krusty. So did The Bish, who works in The Commercial Department, Nutty Girl who works on reception, Even Nuttier Girl who also works on reception, Sniffer, another Salesguy and Mr Happy who used to work next to Mrs Osborne.
Confused? Yeah, so am I!
Nutty Girl downed a whole bottle of wine on her own and Even Nuttier Girl spent most of the evening trying to sway the conversations back to her. She's early thirties, even though she looks a lot older, probably due to the obsessive amount of time she spends under a sunbed. She's stick thin....tonight she told us all that guys have said to her that she has a body like Victoria Beckham and wears the most God awful clothes. I can't even begin to describe the sort of stuff she wears. It's like....well, the colours and patterns on some of her skirts and dresses remind me of stuff my Nan used to wear, when she was still alive. She must spend a small fortune on make up, judging by how much she plasters on and loves nothing more than talking about herself.
It's all "me me me".
And she makes no attempt to hide the fact that she sleeps with loads of blokes. Tonight, she told us that when she goes out, she makes sure she wears as little as possible, to get as much attention as possible, so she's pretty much guaranteed getting laid. In fact, tonight, she told us more than we really wanted to hear!
Her daughter must be so proud.

The patient waiting appears to have paid off. The Killers have announced a small tour in the UK, tickets go on sale tomorrow morning at 9. As luck would have it, I'm off work tomorrow, so no prizes for guessing what I'm gonna be doing in the morning.
Fingers crossed that I can actually get through on the lines because Pandy has kindly informed me that if we miss this gig, he will cut my testicles off. Nice huh!

I've just done an online survey about blogging.
It's all anonymous and if it helps somebody at college, the why not.
Here's the link if anybody else wants to have a go:
Anonymous Blogging Survey

Two nights ago, I downloaded a really strange album. Strange in it's concept.
It's an album of classic reggae artists, such as Toots and The Maytals, Sugar Minott and Frankie Paul doing cover versions of Radiohead. If that wasn't a bizarre enough idea, the album is a complete duplicate of the OK Computer album, song for song.
Some of it works really well, some of it doesn't work at all, but above everything else I'm just in love with the whole idea.

So, tomorrow I'm off. I would normally be spending my time off with The Girl, but circumstances have intervened.
Hopefully it wont be too long....

The coldest heart you've ever felt, the coldest hands you've ever held.

Captured....

I am being held captive by a girl who I don't recognize.
Between houses, the winding road, almost a dirt track meanders between bushes and trees and eventually leads to a lone house. Three stories high, although I only know the deepest one....the basement.
This is my home.
Incarcerated by a heavy chain around my ankle, limiting my movements to 4 feet this way or that.
Her reasons for keeping me here, unknown.
Her face, unfamiliar.
Her motive, unexplained.
All I know is that I'm unable to get free.

I toil with ideas of escape, all of which appear reachable and yet when the time comes, she foils them all.
Every last one of them.
She is always one step ahead of me.

I don't feel myself age and yet I know that my imprisonment has cast many shadows. People on the outside have either given up hope or simply forgotten about me. My reasons for breaking free faltering with every day. Hope sinking further away into the horizon.

She doesn't abuse me. She doesn't exploit me. She doesn't belittle me.

I have to break free.
My chance comes when we are out in the car together. My left arm is heavy with a chain around the steering wheel, which is only unlocked when she allows me to fill up with petrol. I approach the 'hatch' to pay, only to be gestured by the attendant that he will open the main doors for me.
With a little hesitation I enter the building, knowing that she will be furious with me. At the counter, I find myself glancing outside to see her storming towards the building, shouting and screaming at the attendant to let her in.
I have the chance....the chance to tell him to call the police and ask for help....
But....I can't.
I have no idea why....but I just can't ask him for help.

And the dream ends.

When there's nowhere else to run, is there room for one more son.

....Patiently waiting for The Killers to announce a UK tour....

....A very slim possibility (read slim to none and slim just left town) that I'm going to see Robbie Williams play live next week....

Work is about as exciting as sitting on the toilet, taking a crap. In fact that's probably giving work a little more credit than it deserves.

I'm sure I'm not being rude, but it's just your attitude. It's tearing me apart. It's ruining everything.

I am officially pissed off with work.

Everything about the place just sends the creeps under my skin.
Earlier today....and yesterday to be honest, two things dawned on me:

1 - I'm not contributing anything to the place anymore.
2 - The place is contributing nothing towards me being happy.

*Sigh*

It's just utter bollocks.
I find it so difficult to believe that I work for one of the biggest companies in the UK (selling a particular car brand) and in essence, it is without doubt the most unprofessional, disorganized, haphazard, miscalculated and disorderly piss poor excuse for a organization that I've ever had the misfortune to work for.

You're in denial, you're in denial and I know. Well what's my name, well what's my name. I don't know.

The anonymous calls are back.

There's been a nice quiet period of nothingness, then all of a sudden, they start again.
Friday night it was just after 11pm. Last night it was half past midnight and then again at 5.45am.
Does this person not sleep!
I can't even think who I've upset enough to want to do this. I mean....it must be playing on their mind a little for them to even bother to make anonymous calls to me at such odd hours.
The call this morning ended up with them leaving me a voicemail. No song this time....just silence. Not even anything going on in the background. Mind you, what on earth could be happening in the background at 5.45am!

Anyway, current faves on my speakers are The Guillemots album (thanks joe), The Magic Numbers album (again), Beyonce's new album, Robbie's "Rudebox", Outkast's latest offering and strangely enough Simon and Garfunkel.

Tonight, I've booked some tickets to see The Magic Numbers in November. I saw them at V festival and late last year but I still kinda crave some more.
This means confirmed gigs for the rest of the year include; Muse, Pink, Embrace, The Magic Numbers and Sandi Thom. There's actually loads more I'd like to go to, but the absence of a gig partner means I will have to catch them next time. Hopefully they last long enough for there to be a next time.

There's been some more changes at work. I'm still trying to get my head around what exactly they are playing at?! I'm convinced that if people actually knew how much of an unprofessional company we were, they'd gasp. Amazing how even nowadays, it's all about The Name and nothing to do with how businesses run themselves.

Dear person who put together the latest compilation for "Ultimate Prince".

What the fuck were you on? Crack?
The word pointless isn't even worth entertaining within my reply.

Regards
bedshaped x

All the people on the left, wap-bam-boogie. All the people on the right, boo-ga-loo.

I have an incurable addiction to dance music.

It's true, dance music only features as a small proportion of my music. The majority is more guitar based, with lyrics that tell stories and I'm a sucker for singer-songwriters, but that has never meant that I look down on dance music. Much the opposite really.

It's a rare occasion when you find a truly great lyric based dance tune, but that's not to say that they don't exist because they do. But the majority of this genre go for 'feeling' and 'structure' and 'drive' more than anything else. That pulsating precusive beat becomes hypnotic to the point of making the words seem irrelevant.
This is probably a good thing considering most of the songs I would label as 'great dance tunes' don't quite make it in the....let's say....great lyrics category.

Of course everybody has their own preference in songs and dance music is no different. Some people like the speedy stuff that makes the vocal sound like a munchkin from The Wizard Of Oz. Some people like more of a break-beat, instead of one continual tempo. Some people like very little or no vocals at all, while some like the basis of a 'song'....a verse, a chorus, a verse, a chorus, a bridge, a chorus.

Dance music, much like any other genre, goes through various stages of evolving. In my opinion, the most popular 'style' at the moment is kinda like this....

A female vocalist, preferably from a European country and even better if she can't quite sing in English very well. Oh yes, the poor pronunciation only adds to the song. No verse....no story....just a few lines spoken or semi-sung by the girl singer. Most of these lyrics seem to based around finding happiness or good things or even the spiritual and many of them are of course based around the theme of love. Either being in love or having just fallen out of love. Then of course, there are the kind that have lyrics that make no sense what-so-ever, unless you're either pilled up or stoned and dancing away to it in some club and then you feel this 'connection', while your brain tells you that it's the best song ever.
The bass drum doesn't do anything more exciting than beat on the 2 and four. The hi hat meanders between staying tight or enjoying the occasional "pssst" and the snare drum generally mirrors the bass drum.
The key to the whole thing is the bassline, which drives the song forward. Complimented by other keyboard jigger-pokery and percussion, the bassline remains the driving force behind the entire groove.

Some of this kind of stuff is shit, some of it is very listenable. I can't say I dislike it, but I must admit it's becoming quite tiresome recently.

Here's some examples of the wonders they would like to call....lyrics:

"I go ahh ahh ahh, you go ahh ahh ahh ahh 'cos you are the only one"

"Don't go mess with the soldier of fortune. Maybe he's the only one who can take your mind to another side of your soul. He is the soldier of love. The soldier of fortune.....Th th th th th th th the soldier of fortune....Th th th th th th th the soldier of fortune"

"Can you hear me, talking in my mind. I can feel you, you're with me all the time"

"But time passes by. For I wont say goodbye"

"You are the sun and moon, you are the spring in June, you are the one. "

"I hear a wishful thinking, in my peaceful world. I enjoy the exciting moments and no-one speaks a word"

"Take me home, in time you'll love me like one of your own."

"I get restless, I believe. I get restless and free. I get breathless and I....I get restless and high"

I wouldn't say I have a preference when it comes to dance music, as with any genre....I find I can listen to pretty much all of it. That said however, I find myself drawn to a certain style of track;
Bass drum kicks on the 2 and 4.
Snare drum mirrors, but occasionally will fade away and then come back with a frenzy of build up, usually accompanied by heavier vocals and more enhanced keyboard.
The hi hat is tightly closed most of the time, but there's nothing wrong with the occasional 'pssst'.
A bridge (break) in the middle somewhere that gives you that 'toilet door' sound. This is when everything sounds like it's being listened to in a club when you go into the toilets, so you have a barrier between you and the sound and it becomes 'muffled'. The a build up into a wall of sound that makes you wanna throw your arms up in the air and tip your head back.
The bassline is fundamental in driving the tune forward. The best sound is similar to somebody banging a pipe. That hollow, yet booming noise just gets me everytime.
Add one dose of keyboard frenzy, some female vocals, some percussion and a sample or two and you have, in my current ears...a winning formula.

Dance music always raises my spirits. I find that if I have dance stuff playing on my pc in the evening, my mood is never low. I feel lifted and emancipated and just....free. It's a great, great feeling.

Todays episode has been bought to you by the chord C, the pattern 4/4 and the simplicity that is dance.

Well I know that it's a wonderful world, but I can't feel it right now. I thought that I was doing well, but I just want to cry now.

It's difficult for me to find a balance in life.
The scales are either tipped one way or the other, sometimes to extremes.

I can think back to a time where I loved the job I was doing, but I had no place of my own and my personal life was 'so-so'.
Then, I can think back to another time when my personal life was pretty good, I was within touching distance of moving out of my folks house and yet my job stank.

Are we supposed to find a balance between them all?
Are we supposed to set a benchmark and strive to get everything above it.
Is there any point in wondering if there could ever be a time where everything is great. Not perfect, not absolutely amazing, not immaculate....just great.
Most people would settle for great, yeah? I know I would.

I strive to be optimistic, yet my dark pessimism beats me down everytime. I wonder if that's a part of the disease they call depression? When the vision has been inked by those dark, pendulous clouds, is it possible for these storms to be banished forever....Or will there always be the chance of becoming overcast.


I can see great things ahead and yet my feet are stuck in the festering rank of 'below par'. Getting unstuck will be a huge effort of both will and strength.
So where does the strength come from when your cavalry has deserted you?