We are a lullaby, an everlasting song. Taken as prisoners to a place where we belong. If the tune stops, I will not wake. Oh no. Without us, I'm no one, my soul swells and aches.

A few weeks ago, a group of us were talking about various gigs we'd been to.
Who we'd seen, who we really, really wanted to see but hadn't got around to seeing....yet, who'd been the best, the worst, the first....and so the categories continued. I can't remember all of the 'descriptions' we covered, but here's the majority, plus some we never talked about.

It should be noted, I really struggle with lists like this. Music in particular affects me in many different ways. One of the things I love about music, is that it can play wonders with one's emotions. You can feel low, listen to something and find yourself feeling up-lifted, positive, charged. You can feel low, listen to something that really taps into your feelings and emotions, and you feel listened to, understood, forgiven even. You can feel on top of the world, listen to something and feel your insides burst and fizzle and pop, making you feel superhuman. It can give you answers, support, an impartial ear. It can raise questions, make you angry, feed your fever. With this in mind, my 'favourites', as it were, can frequently change. Not always, but they do. Which makes making lists, such as my top ten favourite albums of all time for example, terribly difficult. There always seems to be a few albums that have never fell off the list, but quite what number to place them at is nigh on impossible. I could say that it was just as difficult to come up with a definite "Best gig ever", because of course I've seen some absolutely amazing gigs, and picking just one gives me the shivers.
But all that said, here's my best shot; including some that are factual based, not emotionally chosen. Oh, and on some I cheated 'cos I just can't pick one. I know, what a cock!

I shall just add a little disclaimer at the bottom of the post.

• First gig ever - Pussycat. My brother and I got dragged along to this one with my parents, when we were very young. I can barely remember it, except knowing that I was in a mahoosive room with what seemed like millions of other people, singing and dancing. I can't remember how old I was or even what country we were in, I just remember being bored. I don't know who Pussycat are, apart from I remember my mum playing the album over and over again, kinda country, kinda Mamas & Papas.

• First gig of my choice - Ozzy Osbourne NEC Arena. Back in the day when he tore up national headlines with his bat-head-eating shenanigans. The stage was dressed as a medi-evil castle; Ozzy played the 'king' of the castle, his band all dressed up accordingly, wenches and maidens made appearances, a small person (am I allowed to say dwarf? I don't even know, and Google has proved pretty useless) being hung on stage, lots of explosions, huge banks of lights and the loudest rock music I'd ever heard in....my....life! I absolutely loved it, and consequently fell in love with experiencing music at it's very best....when played live by the people who love it most. Thanks Ozzy x.

•  Most I've paid for a ticket (proper sale value) - Prince, Manchester Apollo. I think I payed around £75 for each ticket. It was unheard of for Prince to play such a small venue. And to say getting hold of a pair of tickets was bloody close to impossible, somehow I managed to speak to 'the right people' and bagged myself a pair. It was everything I wanted it to be; intimate, gorgeous, powerful, I was in awe. For the last 20 minutes of the gig, he had people from the audience up on stage with him. He did a blazing set and I came away, after not having seen him live for about six or seven years, convinced that he'd still got it. I've not seen him live since then. I had tickets to see him when he did the record breaking run at The O2 arena in London, but had to sell them because I was so desperately broke.

• Most I've paid for a ticket (from touts etc) - Coldplay, London. I've only ever bought dodgy tickets to two gigs anyway. By mid afternoon, I'd decided that travelling 120 miles to London, meeting up with a friend and trying to get tickets into the last gig Coldplay were to play before they exploded with "Yellow" was a good idea. In the end, it was. When we arrived at the venue, touts were selling them for £100 a piece. Big money! We went for a coffee and waited until two of the support bands had played. I ended up paying £50 a piece for the dodgy tickets. And very dodgy they were. It turned out that the tout was working in ca-hoots with the guy on door security, so we ended up with a ticket to see Morrissey the previous night, and a ticket for The Wonderstuff a few weeks ago, and sailed past the door. The gig was amazing.

• Best support band - Ultrasound, Wolves. They supported Placebo. I'd never heard of them, but noticed afterward that they were a current favourite of NME. Quite possibly the strangest looking band I've ever seen. They didn't look like a band at all. There was clearly no common thread through any of the band members. By the time they were into their second song, I was converted. Musically, they were brilliant. Not the best players in the world, but wonderfully creative with their sound and instruments. They completely won the crowd over and I immediately rushed up to my local Our Price to buy their cd

• Most disappointing gig - Evanescence, Wolves. Bloody loved their breakthough album, had a bit of a 'thing' for the lead singer. The place was packed, the atmosphere was electric, the anticipation was immense. The crowd were totally in the mood to be rocked out of our socks. What happened was three or four songs with piss poor sound mixing before they got any where near anything decent, coupled with absolutely no chemistry on stage between the band. In fact, I'd say it was more like animosity. Yep, they didn't look happy, comfortable or even show any signs of enjoyment playing their songs. It soon became a 'by the numbers' gig, with very little in between. I found out the following day that the band had a huge bust up with the lead guitarist/co-writer and he'd walked out on them a few days into the tour. Most of the comments I over-heard on the way out at the end of the gig were of disappointment and negativity. Shame.

• Most intimate gigs - James Blunt, Brighton. A month or so before he was all over the radio like a nasty rash on a tramp, I found out he was playing a few warm up gigs before commencing a more 'suitable' tour of medium sized venues. There were probably less than a hundred of us in the room, but he performed as if we were a crowd of many thousands. It was obvious he was loving every minute of it, and because it wasn't your typical 'conventional' gig, he continued way past the time he should have finished by. The sound was perfect; crystal clear, the atmosphere was amazing and pretty much everybody there knew we were witnessing something very, very special. Oh, and about twenty minutes after he finally went off-stage, he came out the front and sat down to have a drink with a few people. He came across as a really nice guy. Shame he turned into a twat.                                                         Prince, Small club in London. During one of his Wembley Arena gigs, I stumbled upon the woman who used to run his UK fan club many years previously. To cut a long story short, she game me three tickets to a special after show party/gig that was happening in a small club in the West End of London. Admission was strictly by ticket only, plus another £25, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He came on stage about 3am and played until 6.30, delighting the audience of about 200 people with old songs, new songs, jams, new arrangements, special guests and stage dives. It was amazing. He smells amazing. And I got to touch the little tinker when he turned his back on us, then took a leap into our open arms.

•  Most embarrassing gig attended - Status Quo, Milton Keynes. My brother used to be a huge fan, so I would offer to go when nobody else would. I've seen them more than once, but the less said about this, the better.

• Gigs I've either blagged my way into or paid nothing for - Linkin Park, Manchester. Placebo, many venues. Oasis, Manchester. David Gray, B'ham. U2, Wembley. Athlete, Oxford. And various other bands on the up and coming.

• Performance I've watched whilst most stoned - Richard Ashcroft, V Festival. It was amazing. When he sang "Lucky Man", I felt like I was gonna have an orgasm, right there and then.

• Band/Artist I really want to see - Too many to name. Metric, Goldfrapp, White Lies, Paloma Faith, Bombay Bicycle Club, Jamie T, Biffy Clyro, Interpol, Arcade Fire, Florence and The Machine, Natalie Merchant, The National....

• Bands/artists I've seen more than 4 times - Prince, probably close to 30 times. Embrace, Elbow, Placebo, Faithless, Stereophonics, Keane, Starsailor, Paul Weller, Doves, Feeder....

• Shortest gig/set I've seen - Mel C, V Festival. She came on late afternoon, main stage. Did a couple of songs, then decided it would be a good idea to do a cover of "Anarchy In The Uk". It wasn't. The crowd pelted the stage with anything and everything; bottles, beer cups, sandwiches, clothing, shoes, cuddly toys, fruit, you name it.

• Longest Gig attended - Prince, London. There was no support, the stage was in the middle of the Arena and he played for just over 3 1/2 hours in total, with a short 20 minute break in the middle.

• Loudest gig - 30 Seconds To Mars, B'ham. No distortion in the speakers at all, just pure volume. Brilliant gig, supporting their second album. I had ringing in my ears for several days after that night. In fact, it was still there when I went to see Paramore at the same venue two days later. Oof!

•  Best gig I've been to - So difficult to say. Elbow, B'ham was absolutely amazing. During the tour supporting their Leaders Of The Free World album. Despite good reviews, a building fan-base and a good choice of venue, the place was half empty. Guy had his leg in plaster if I remember correctly, spending much of the gig either sat on a chair or stumbling around the stage aided by a walking stick. There was lots of banter and crowd interaction, leaving us feeling like we'd just been down the road to watch our good friends play some of their songs to a small, select few. Prince has rarely disappointed, particularly his Diamonds and Pearls tour when his stage set-up, his band, his dancers and the sets he played were fantastic. JJ72, B'ham were brilliant both times I managed to catch them in small clubs. Embrace, B'ham about five or six years ago were superb. A band who look like they absolutely love what they do. I was right at the front at this one, and Danny, the lead singer held my hand for support when he climbed on the barrier. Woop! Tori Amos, Glastonbury was a set I don't think I'll ever forget. Her keyboards failed, so she played the entire set on an amplified piano. Radiohead, London supporting their Kid A album, but mostly sticking to what they knew. The gig was in a huge, fuck-off marquee plonked on the edge of a park. R.E.M. Hyde Park was a fantastic day. Managed to bag some 'Gold Circle' tickets, giving us access to the area right by the stage. Michael Stipe was in fine form, the set list was a great choice and we even had Patti Smith doing a guest appearance.

• Best thing I've blagged from a gig - Faithless stage set list. I don't even know where it is anymore, since I've been moving around like a nomad. I'm hoping it's still in the box with all my old gig tickets and memorabilia.

• Biggest cock/cocks at a gig - Liam Gallagher, everytime. 'Nuff said. The guy is a complete cock, period. Hard Fi come runners up for their utterly abysmal performance at V Festival a few years ago when they were all clearly our of their heads, desperately trying to play half decent but ending up sounding like a shitty school band.

I'm sure there's much more I can list here, if I took the time to think about it. And I know that come next week, this list would have different results, but as it stands at the moment....this is it.

*disclaimer* Most of the artists/bands above are always subject to change.

Take what you need and be on your way, and stop crying your heart out.

Tomorrow, I have to get up and leave the house by 7am, drive over 90 miles to sit for 8 hours for 'training' on something I know pretty much everything about, in order to be 'permitted' to perform that duty in a job I am leaving.
Wonderful.

Well, I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war. If you can tell me something worth fighting for. And I'm gonna buy this place is what I said. Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head.

For the second time this week, I've walked into the men's toilets to find the previous occupant didn't even flush properly.

Dear person/persons who use the toilet at work for number two's,

Would you like walk into the toilet and find a 'present' awaiting your arrival?
No?
Didn't think so.

Please be kind enough to show some common courtesy.

Best wishes,
bedshaped x

Kicking up mischief, and feeding the fire. Kicking up mischief, and walking the wire.

It's all about pushing yourself.
Never mind "that extra mile", a few extra steps are enough.
And when you come up against something immovable in your way,
You just start pushing in a different direction.
I'd like to be pushing in all sorts of new directions by the end of this year. I'd like to be doing something 'different' with my life, I'd like to have my own space back, I'd like to focus more on getting myself happy and learning to love myself again, instead of thinking back at pointless things and people that don't matter anymore. You can't change the past and people are just people.

Hope is what I'm carrying a lot of.

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention. Give me envy, give me malice, baby give me a break.

I seem to be really enjoying parts of my life lately.
Back to life, back to reality.
In the next couple of months alone, I'm going to be witnessing, nay, participating in the joy that is The Rocky Horror Show. Yes, Of course I'm gonna be dressing up. I'm also going to revisit my Church this year. The place where I truly feel at complete ease with myself. V Festival. Four days of music, love, joy and elation. Four days of life. Shortly after that weekend, I'm accompanying someone to watch a ballet. I've always wanted to see an opera, but none of my friends are feeling brave enough to tackle one of those, so a ballet is kinda like a happy medium. I'm really looking forward to it. Gotta dress up all smart and everything! There's tentatively good news on the house front. I may actually have my own place to chill out in soon....ish.

I took two blag bags of clothes to the Oxfam shop a few weeks ago. It felt good to cleanse my wardrobe.

To see if I can, I'm gonna try for something here every day this month. It would be nice to finish off here the same way as I started; blogging every day. Although I've deleted lots of the first posts. I'm such a twat.

Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick.

You shouldn't change, for anyone.
Don't change for him, for her, for them.
And don't change for love.
Love makes you do silly things. Your thoughts can betray you.
Just be yourself, and you'll achieve one thing....
You wont have disappointed yourself.

Kind of buzz that lasts for days, had some help from insect ways. Comes across all shy and coy, just another nancy boy.

There's always a way.
When you need something positive to focus on, it's always good to remind yourself that things could be so much worse. That's your starting block, you can dig your heel right in. It's the extra rung on the ladder, the kick up the arse, your second wind.
My dad's been really ill. After his operation, he returned home just four days later in quite obvious pain and discomfort. For the following three weeks, calls to the hospital and visits to his local GP were an every other day occurrence. He needed help with everything and it really took it's toll on my mum. Thankfully, he's much more on the mend now. A huge weight seems to be have been lifted. Those dark clouds hanging over the house are clearing up.

Now all that's over, I can concentrate on myself again for a while.
I've changed my job, again. Same thing, just....different. It's ok.

Onward, forwards, up and away.
Never look back, it ain't worth it.

You treat me just like another stranger. It's nice to meet you, so I guess I'll go, I best be on my way now.

Waiting for my blind spot, you can wait all you like,
You'll never be able to trip me up.
I'm one step ahead of you,
And you wont see me for dust.

I've got your number, I've seen your face before,
Those lines, those frowns, those tears.
I'm a sequel to the original,
And my super-human power is no fear.

Keep a straight face,
When you look me in the eye.
Keep that face straight,
You can run, but you cannot hide.

There's a space kept in hell with your name on the seat. With a spike in the chair just to make it complete.

Our meeting at work this morning, 8.31am:

"Right guys. Look, I know it's been a little slow this week so far, but let's not lose faith in ourselves. We're proving time and time again how well we all work together, pulling out all the stops just when we need it. If I can ask you all just to keep a sharp focus on things, keep me involved and let's all do our best to try and save this week. I don't want you guys walking around with droopy smiles. Don't get down-hearted. We can do something about this. So let's all give it our best shot, ok?"

And then I awoke from the day-dream.

This is how our sales meeting went this morning, 8.33am:
"The morning meeting starts at 8.30am guys! Not 8.33am, or 8.36am, or even 8.pisspoor excuse am. It's 8.30. AM!!!! There will be serious consequences for any further lateness. I'm pissed off with it. And what I'm also pissed off about is the lack of results from you guys! Seriously, what's going on? I ask you to do things and you all just pay lip-service. None of you are working anywhere near hard enough! DON'T ANY OF YOU WANT TO EARN ANY MONEY, BECAUSE I DO! I'm comparing our performance against *one of the other branches* and all I can see from it, is that you guys are shit at what you're doing. Whatever you're doing, it's wrong. I have to ask myself....have I got the right team of people here? All the other branches are delivering results. We look shit. Everybody looks at us and thinks we're shit. People are looking at you guys and thinking you're all shit. And I have to agree with them! This week WILL turn around....or there will be consequences!"

My boss is such a cock.

So many thousands of days in my life, that I don't remember. And a small handful of days that I do, hold near to my heart.

It would be nice to think that as you grow, you pick up things from other people who've touched your life, in some way. They may be a life-long friend, they may have been a lover, they may have been a fleeting coincidence, but no matter, something they did, or showed you, or spoke to you about....had an effect on you. Maybe not at that precise point. Not like it was some kind of epiphany. But maybe weeks, months, even years pass before you sync the two things in your mind. And you find youself being 'different', and all because of the wonderful fact that everybody is different. And a different person once touched your life.
Everybody has wisdom in them.
They just don't know it.
Or believe it.
Or understand it.

I think I have roughly six months left on this journey before I reach where I need to be.
And then it will all be over.

Don't get lost in the dark, when you shine. So shine. So shine. So shine.

I'm finding there just aren't enough hours in the day.
And when I leave work and arrive back here, at my parents' house, I find myself not wanting to do anything.
I'd much rather just sit around with myself for company, along with a background soundtrack, of course.
Lately, I've been thinking about Jewel, my cat who left one night through her catflap, never to return. Ten days before I was about to move into my own place.

I'm currently having battles with The Company I work for, a lettings agency, my Bank Manager and my doppleganger. No wonder I'm feeling so drained lately.

I really don't want to be chemically dependant for the rest of my life. Just thinking about that brings me down.

How do you cope with feelings that twist your mind. There's no logic to them. Their foundations have major flaws and when it all comes crashing down, where do I stand?
Underneath it?
Beside it?
A million miles away from it?

Friends aren't supposed to fuck you over. Even when....no....especially when it's dark.

One more drink and I'll be fine. One more girl to take you off my mind.

I'm not crazy anymore. It's official!

I feel fine.
Better than fine.
Life is still dealing me daily challenges, but I can deal with them.

I need a tent and a spacehopper for August.

The Guinness Book Of Records beckons.

I still sigh sometimes though. Yano....Sigh....

Run away from all your boredom, run away from all your whoredom and wave your worries and cares goodbye.

"You are just....ordinary!"
That's what I was told today.
How fucking insulting!

I wrote a letter that I never mailed. I rehearsed the dialogue in my head. In case you ever want to track me down, I'll take myself home to bed.

Dear bedshaped,

What's happened to you man!? Seriously, you've let your guard slip in so many ways recently, you're almost transparent. Put the brakes on that right now, sir! You're better than that.
Better, better, better.
Stop worrying about what other people think of you! It never used to bother you. Flipping around place to place, time to space, you're philosophy was always to cast aside other people's judgements. So why, all of a sudden do they whispers bother you so much?!
You've lost focus.
So, listen up:

• Serve those fuckers final notice to stop them from living in your house, rent free for the last three months. Then when they are finally out, smarten the place up and then cut that noose from around your neck by selling up. For whatever you can get. Take the hit if you have to. Just be rid of it.

• Get yourself as debt free as humanly possible, given your 'situation'. Pay back, pay back, pay back!

• Stop trying to live like a Vamp and get some damned rest. You're burning yourself out, fella.

• Cast aside all these silly notions you have about what others think of you. Chance are you're completely wrong in your assumptions, besides the fact that....really, do you think that other people really give that much of a fuck about you? I doubt it very much.

• Change jobs. C'mon....you know you ain't gonna stick around there much longer. Stop waiting for the call, and instead make it!

• Learn to say "No" to people. It doesn't offend them anywhere near as much as you think it does. In fact, they 're fine about it. No harm done, right.

•  Stop trying to save the world!

• Make some plans, get some focus....start some cogs turning to move out of that fucking house!

• Stop talking to yourself!

Love
bedshaped x

Well, it's laughter that comes up when I cry for you. And my heart may break again before it learns. And I might be stupid enough to want to fall again. Cause I've gotten used to the crash and burn.

I'm sat here listening to the latest release by Eels.

It's making me feel really, really sad.


And he's absolutely bang on with squaring up to people's emotions.
To most it makes no sense, or at least takes on an agenda of its own.
He shows us all how it's done,
Peels his skin back to reveal his bare bones,
And rises above the sorrow, taking flight.
Taking flight.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air. I know I can count on you.

I fear my laptop may be about to give up the ghost.
During boot-up, it laughs in my face with three Error messages, none of which I can find ways to repair them.
Oh dear.
Maybe now is a good time to try and back up the music files which are spread over the split drives. And I can file the back ups alongside the others that I already did from my PC. The others that I boxed away somewhere and have forgotten where they are.
If my laptop dies, or maybe I should say when, I wonder if it will be time to dust off my old tower and try to piece together my old faithful PC. Fingers crossed it should fire up, although I will have to find/borrow a monitor from somewhere because I kinda gave my old one away, since I wasn't using it.

You have served me so well, my dear laptop. And you didn't cost me a damned penny! Please hold on as long as you possibly can. I'd really appreciate that.

You shower me with lullabies, as you're walking away. Reminds me that it's killing time, on this fateful day.

I don't know how she does it.
And I hate the fact that she even has to.
The guilt would tear me apart.

I don't feel like we're synchronized at the moment.
And it scares me.

We took the town to town last night. We kissed like we invented it.

Bollocks.

You're such a beautiful freak. I bet you are flying inside. Duck down and then go for cover.

Genuis writer David Mills has died at the age of 48.
Fourty fucking eight!

Some things are just so messed up in this world.

Mr Mills, sir.
I salute you and want to thank you for The Wire. One of the best TV shows ever.

Rest In Peace x.

I can't see you, when I want to, where I am now. With our old lives left behind us, we are new, now.

Something I did last night, left me feeling really shitty.
My ex is an aspiring artist. I've always loved her work, she really grew in the time I knew her. And she used to post pictures of her works on a photo website.
Well, last night I wanted to look at....well, I was just curious. I just wondered how she was getting on with it and if she'd posted some pictures of her latest stuff.
She has.
They're all looking great!
But I couldn't just stick to the latest stuff could I?. Ohhh noooo! I browsed back. I didn't look at too may other pictures, but I guess it didn't matter. I felt a terrible surge of familiarity, because, well I guess because they were ones that she did when we were together. That surge felt all kinds of wrong.
So last night, and most of today, I've been feeling like some kind of stalker! Like I've sneakily invaded her personal space. Like I've just been 'checking up' on her. None of that could be further from the truth. I just wanted to see how her art studies were going. And I feel weak having to repeat that statement, as if I'm lying or trying to cover something up. I'm not.
I feel terribly guilty.

We are a lullaby, an everlasting song. Taken as prisoners to a place where we belong.

So, I have a new girlfriend.

She brushed in on my life towards the end of last year. I found her attractive, smart, genuine and most importantly; a little kooky.
Her lovely dark hair, sometimes up, sometimes down, pinned, tied.... Her elaborate use of make up, her quirky dress sense and her body language all drew me in. Each time I saw her, I found something else about her to love.
I love the way she tells her stories. She has a wonderful imagination. And OMFG the way she pronounces certain words....so damned sexy.
An amazing voice.

I know, I know!
I'm dreaming, right?
Well, sometimes it's ok to dream.

Even her name is horny.
My new, imaginary, no chance in fucking hell so she gets to go on the 'list of 5'* girlfriend:
Paloma Faith.

Paloma Faith "Play On"

See you in August, Paloma. x

*The 'list of 5' being that list of five people who it's 'ok' to secretly love and fantasise about, because they are people who you have as much chance shagging as the pope has of getting a blowjob and posting a video of it on Facefuck**. Namely, no chance in fucking hell. So yeah, it's ok to have naughty thoughts about them.

**Mind you, stranger things have happened. I mean who ever thought there would be a day everybody in the whole world could see Britney Spears's lady garden on the internet.

Woke up this morning and hoped for a dream. But reality sat next to me and forced me to believe.

Ha!
Never gonna make that mistake again!

You have a supernatural flair. Push me further than I dare. Play on, play on, play on. So play on for me.

You left those photos on the table.
So, since you've been gone, I've been glancing through them again.
Random snapshots of your life.
Your obsession with Axl Rose is quite laughable though.
For me it was Prince. Maybe that's where I went wrong.

I feel the urge to write on the back of one of them; "Remember me?"
But there's no pen to hand.
So maybe I'll whisper it to you in the wind.
One day when you least expect it.

That lip gloss looks amazing on you.
But better on me.
And although you beat me hands down with your style, your eyelashes, your skin tone....
My pubes are much shorter than yours.

It's like voodoo, I've lost all my control. I look in to you, you make me rock and roll.

I'm fasting today.
And probably tomorrow.
I feel podgy. Bloated.
I think I'm on.

Theres a man on the corner, selling dozens of bones.

I wonder, is there a guy equivalent to a spinster? Or is a spinster a non gender thing anyway?
I mean....can I be a guy, who ends up alone, with embarassing Tesco receipts and a house full of cats?
To be honest, it doesn't sound a bad idea to me at all.

There's this horrible assumption, that people who are alone after reaching a certain age, well, there must be something 'wrong' with them. It's a totally unfair assumption. It's an ugly blanket statement. It's a little like saying that once people get married, their sex lives wither away.
I am, however, broken.
Well, maybe not so much broken, but certainly a mis-build. A 'second'. A defective. So I guess I'm quite happy to be labelled as 'there must be something wrong with this guy'. Because I can't deny it.

I crave my own space. My own time.
Being with another person is wonderful, of course. It's silly to think otherwise.
I do need me time though. It's essential.
I'm desperately in need of some me time right now.

Frustration is hanging in the air. I think I might have to throw one out, just to relieve some tension.

Nope, somehow the blogger page just isn't cutting the mustard with me.

And why has the redesigned Blogger post widget not kept the spellchecker?! Soooo frustrating. Some people really relied on that (read me!), and who knows how people cope when they do the obligatory drunken posts! It's crazy, I tell thee!

It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm. We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable.

I have nine posts drafted, but I still can't push the publish button. On any of them.

Yep, my thoughts are once again tangled.
But what I do know, is that Glee is just the best thing on TV at the moment. Oh, apart from Lost. Ah, and True Blood, The Vampire Diaries, Caprica, Weeds, Dexter and Flash Forward. It is a pure stroke of genius though.

Shutter Island is one of the best movies I've seen in the last, oh I dunno, ten years.

I think I need a break. A holiday. Something.
Difference that's gonna be significant enough to push me over this small hurdle.

Oh, you took me from my bubble, knowing my defense was weak. And you sat there and you listened anytime I chose to speak.

Dear Manager,

You're so mono-tone....so empty of emotion....I simply can't read you at all. Put that aside for one minute. Irrespective of your body language and tone, would it kill you to pat me on the back, just once. It fucks me off that even though you know I'm doing a good job, even though my performance is much better than average, even though I put in more time and effort than anybody else on our team, you still can't find it in yourself to say "well done". Instead, you seem to think that push, push, pushing me is gonna make me perform even better.
Well, guess what? It wont.
And it's doing nothing but pissing me off and grinding me down.
So, I say this to you dear Manager...."Give me a fucking break!"

Yours,
bedshaped x

Yes, shall we take a spin again in business. This time is fixed, lets sweeten our facilities.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Is there anybody who might be able to help me figure out how to change the pink links for my timestamp and comments into black, or a different colour. 
Pink is so not this blog.


Anybody?
Hello?


Echo....echo.....co....co.....co.....o....o....

It took all the man in me, to be the dog you wanted me to be.

So, some of the line up for V Festival has been announced today.
Goldfrapp is worth the £155 alone.

I don't have the money for it. I wouldn't want to go and be the 'odd one out', which is what I would be, assessing my current situation. I have no tent. I'm not sure they would like me to have that particular weekend off work. I'm probably 'past it' in regards to the captive age bracket. I am no longer regarded as 'cool' by my friends and family. Biffy Clyro aren't on the bill....yet.

So many things going against me.
And the only thing is driving me, is that I will once again be in my Church.

Music is my love....my regret....my memories....my passion....my all.....

And all those used up cliches....well, they've worn off in the wind.

It's quite strange to think that the guy downstairs, who I can have a really cool conversation with, is the same guy who used to beat the shit out of me when I was a child; with a slipper, a stick, his belt or whatever else was within arms reach.
The pain that he inflicted upon me was soon forgotten. Broken and bruised skin heals.
And even though the mental scars will never heal, he tought me one of the most important lessons of my life; how not to be a parent.

Dull residue of what once was. A shattered cloud of swirling doves.

When somebody says, "My life is a bit complicated....It's far from straight forward at the moment", what does that mean?
I think I get to find out later.

Everybody's got opinions, dear. Their own versions of a good idea.

She needs a little help.
I can help.
It's a 250 mile round trip.
Worth the travel time to help out a friend I barely know?
Fuck yeah.

She needs a little help.
I can help.
It feels really good.

And angels with their great handshakes were always done in such a hurry.

On Friday, my Dad has to have a camera shoved up his arse.

No, seriously.

I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail. Then I'll float to you my darlin', with the evening on my tail.

You spend most of your time as a kid wanting to be treated like an adult.
You spend most of your teenage years battling though puberty, all the emotional restructure and trying to find your path in life when it comes to actually stepping out into the real world.
Then you spend most of your adult life trying to figure out just what the fuck relationships are all about.

I don't believe for one minute that this life that we're all struggling through is all that we are.
The human body may indeed be an amazing piece of kit, something that we as a race will continue to strip down, pull apart and rebuild in order to try to understand it more. But in reality, isn't it just a shell? A container? A capsule?
We are a mind, a soul, an energy.
And our bodies are just keeping us company until we are ready to move on to the next stage.

By the end of our 'physical' lives we may have earned millions, spent billions, lived in numerous abodes, worked our arses off, fucked many different people and watched our flesh and bones betray our own eyes.
Those things may have made us happy, they may have made us sad. But there will come a time when none of it will matter because we can't take any of that with us. But what we can take is our emotion, our experience, our knowledge, our teachings and our loves.

Quiet....
For a while.

And I wonder if you're half as innocent as you were showin' me. Or if you thank him for his time and just never call again.

My Nan was here for Sunday lunch today.
During the chatting, having the meal, she was telling us stories of her youth.

It's now a few hours later, and I'm still trying to take in stories of how she flirted with all the boys, flashed more than the odd ankle to them, used to think nothing of getting blind drunk on weekends and have to be carried off to her bed, wherever that may have been....How she got caught trying to sneak back up to her room, halfway creeping upstairs, by her Dad. How her and her friends used to tuck their long dresses up into their knickers so they could ride on the handlebars on some handsome devils. How she give an extra bit of wiggle when she walked through the factory to collect the wages once a week, and how she would love all the wolf whistles.
And even to this day, she can remember names.
Sounds to me like my Nan was many a guy's worst nightmare.

This storm it came up strong. It shook the trees and blew away our fear. I couldn't even hear.

I'm currently downloading "One Hundred Vocal Trance Anthems" and am more excited about listening to that on the way to and from work, than I am about anything else tomorrow.
That's kinda sad, isn't it?

When I work on a Sunday, I spend the first two hours drinking coffee and watching the Hollyoaks omnibus, then I listen to Radio One for the rest of the day.
I'm thinking about volunteering to work this Sunday, so I can see what happens next.
That's kinda sad too, huh?

And it's times like when I was downstairs the other night, watching some drama with my parents....and yes, the steamiest sex scene came on....and lasted for-e.v.e.r....tits and arse everywhere, even parts of a lady-garden....and to say they were athletic, well....I can only hope they are on Team GB for the next Olympics....grunts and groans, moans and even a vocal money shot yelp. Yes, a Barbaric yelp.
Anyway....when that happens to me, it makes me realize I may have outstayed my welcome here.

It's disjointed, isn't it?
But it makes sense, right?

I'll take this soul that's inside me now. Like a brand new friend, I'll forever know.

The morning after made so much more sense than the night before
Too many refills
Outside influence, outside influence
Somebody call the cops.

The night before had too many arms and too many legs
Eagerness overpowered love
Care and attention, fear and redemption
Somebody call the cops.

The smell of newly baked bread in the air and sex on the sheets
Passion danced with the morning
Between them, deep within them
Somebody call the cops.

The wonderful expression on her face said it all and more
His expression quite different
Pulling faces, saving graces
Somebody call the cops.

The feeling of real life was much more apparent in the morning
Between the absolute two of them
The truth of her moans, the depth of his groans
Somebody call the cops.

The feeling of a jigsaw puzzle with all its pieces present
Bodies entwined as if it were meant
Wrapped around her, deep inside her
Somebody call the cops.

Come on, surprise him
Include him in the bigger picture
Do you ever want to think "what if?"
What if?

The hours that followed saw them sat on the sofa together
Her eyes catching his panoramic gaze
He stroked her garden, and begged her pardon
They were pulling out all the stops.

And you gathered from my pleas to you, that I am but a clown. No fear, only a hero can defeat these demons now.

I am due to finish taking my medication at the end of this month.
Does that mean I'm fixed?
Am I mentally unbalanced no longer?
Am I....ok?

I feel a terrible urge to fly the nest again. I need to be free.
The only thing that's keeping me from looking at it more seriously, is the fact that I can pay back more of my debts while I'm nesting with The Folks.
And I need to get that done and dusted.

It's not that I can't settle, it's that I'm....unsettled.

I've got a sheet for my bed. And a pillow for my head. I've got a pencil full of lead. And some water for my throat.

I masturbated in a five star hotel last night.

I rock!

Woke up and for the first time, the animals were gone. It's left this house empty now, not sure if I belong.

The aftermath is never a dull moment.

As I sat there this morning, trying to put together how I have gained scratches on both of my hands and one arm, why all of my pockets are crammed full with gambling chips, realizing we were lucky in our 'close call' with the police, trying to remember who took the photo of me trying to strike an 'erotic male calender' pose, using a rather large road sign to cover most of my modesty and wondering who the hell I spoke to in Australia on that girl's mobile phone.

It was no use asking my friend, as she handed me my first coffee of the day. She fell asleep on the sofa for the last few hours while the rest of us were in drunken wii mode. Previous to that she had been trying to keep up with everybody else, and failing. Those three glasses of wine she downed on an empty stomach kicked in by 10 and she was pretty useless after that. Although she proved herself very useful in helping me carry the huge 'No Smoking' sign that we gained on our two mile walk back to our friend's house.

This morning, she seemed more vocal about telling me she'd spent the best part of two hours already this morning "shitting through the eye of a needle". And the deep, rapturous burps didn't really add anything to the conversation.

During the day, most of the blurry pieces of the puzzle have cleared. I think a good time was had by most, if not all and everybody survived in one piece. That's always a good sign.
I'm still to find out who has the photo though.

One thing that is clear to me when I think back.
As midnight was approaching with chants of the countdown, the group of friends I was out with bobbed and weaved their way further into the building and we kinda got separated. The clock struck midnight. Whistles and bangs, cheers and "hoorays" bellowed out, as people did the hugging, kissing, shaking hands kind of thing. And for entire length of that awful..fucking..song that's sung on every New Year, I was all alone.

I can bind your beautiful wrists. And shut your beautiful eyelids. With the drugs, with the drugs, with the drugs.

Fare thee well, 2009.
You've not been dull, that's for sure.
But it's time we parted ways.

You can keep me pinned, 'cos it's easier to tease. But you can't paint an elephant, quite as good as she.

It worries me a little that I'm told I was eating pork pie on Christmas night.
I hate pork pie.
I saw a programme once, about healthy eating, and they showed a guy taking a bite of a pork pie and then a bite out of a block of lard. Lard! And they said he was getting nothing more out of the pork pie than the block of lard, as far as nutrients, goodness, etc is concerned. From that moment on, I turned my back on pork pies!
Apparently, I was also singing "Mr Brightside" at the top of my voice, into a 'soap on a rope' shaped in the form of a microphone. Don't ask!
Best not mention then, that at just after midnight, I went outside, running to my car, shouting out at the top of my voice that I wanted to hear some Lady Gaga! This was confirmed in the morning, when I asked my brother why my flash drive from the car with all my music on, is by the side of his computer?!

It's ok though. I slept on the sofa, and I checked myself for bite marks in the morning. Nothing!

You are creating all the bubbles at night.. I'm chasing round trying to pop them all the time.

She was sat on the far sofa, talking about her current tempestuous relationship.
She asked me if I thought it was working.
Silence.
Then she asked me what the cure was for a broken heart.
I sat for a while....

How do you get over a broken heart?
You replace your ex with somebody else.
All those spaces and voids that were festing away in your life since you broke up, you fill them, with somebody else.
A different accent, different eyes, different hair.
A different way of hugging, of kissing, of touching.
Start going out to different places again.
Enjoy introducing somebody new to your friends and family, and revel in the remarks of how much nicer this new person is than the 'ex'.
Ok, so being naked with a new person might feel a little weird at first, but you'll soon get over it.
Having a new person in your life wont leave you with that deep, empty pit in your stomach, because you'll have a new part of your own journey to trek, with a new person, along a different path.

You just simply 'fill' your empty heart with somebody new.

She just made an affirming noise with her mouth, then made us another coffee.

"Rise" Eddie Vedder.

I tread a troubled track. My odds are stacked. I go back to black.

Sometime, during the festivities, take a moment to think about people who aren't as fortunate as yourself, and what kind of Christmas they are having?
People should put differences aside for just even a moment.
People should make that extra effort.
People should stop holding the grudge, and forgive.

Merry Christmas.

xx

When we collide we come together. If we don't, we'll always be apart. I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it. When you hit me, hit me hard.

My kids are brilliant.
I love my kids more than anything else in the world.

My eldest wants to be a teacher.
My middle kid is a musical genius.
My youngest has all the makings of a great artist.

I don't talk about my kids on here. They are my private world.

I think I feel ok about Christmas and the New Year. Weird and different this year, but I'm pretty sure I can handle it.
My folks are flying off in the early hours, so I will have the house to myself for a week. I've been invited to few places, so I'll be fine for the first few days.

I want to sort things out. I want to pay off my debts.
I want to move forward.
Without thinking of what I left behind.
Or what cast me aside.

And focus on me and my future.

And all my destinations will accept the one that's me. So I can breathe.

"Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying t-to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream."

Amazing. Amazing and beautiful.

Gonna rise up, burning back holes in dark memories. Gonna rise up, turning mistakes into gold.

It's ok to have an 'off' day, right?
And how about a couple of 'off' days?
Or three or four?

I need to shake myself out of this funk.
This reminds me of dark places I'd like not to visit again.

A Christmas alone this year isn't helping either.

I normally find the Christmas/New Year holiday period a difficult one. It will be even more so this year, after the year I've had. And I think that's what's bringing my feet down.
So I guess, the worst case scenario is that these funky times will only last until new year.
I think I can make that.
Phew!

I think I felt you disappear, disappear, disappear. I know it's awful but I'd already said my goodbyes.

It's kinda weird knowing.
I don't even know how I knew. I just....did.

And it's ok, yano.

I remember when we had such fun and everything was fine, I remember when we used to have a good time, partners in crime.

I've just had a genius idea about remixing an 80's classic.

Shush.

I pronounce it aluminium, 'cause there's an I next to the U and M. Now write it down slowly, and read it out fast.

I am euphoric tonight.

And over at theauditorium, there's a run down of the top ten albums of the year, as selected and reviewed by moi, swisslet and LB. It's all cool to drop over and say something.

"I was born on a horse, that's all."

I need to feel I'm getting stronger. Long as I'm moving, it feels true. And with each step, I will forget. Forget all of those memories of you.

Quite simply a brilliant remix.
Brutal in the mix....brutal in the lyrics.
Thanks Alanis x

Freemasons - "Uninvited (club mix I think, but fuck it, just a brilliant remix all the same)"

and just because....a brilliant remix of Heartbreak by Sophie Ellis Bexter and The Freemasons.

I spoke to my Nan tonight, while I was stoned.

And there's gonna be reviews, and a top 10 listing of both; albums of 2009, and albums of the decade over at the auditorium between me, LB and Swisslet soon. How cool is that? Like music? Go over....

I love your depression and I love your double chin. I love most everything you bring to this offering.

Nobody is perfect.
We all fuck up.
Often in small doses, sometimes on more monumental scales.

So, I don't care that your underwear doesn't always match.
I don't care that you get occasional spots, bare the scars of children and would rather turn the light out before you undress.
Just the fact that you felt close enough to let me in a little, is more than enough. On a par with something monumental.

Is it too much to ask that you don't care either?

I can forgive your knickers on the floor, if you can forgive me turning my back.

I feel like I could write a song about you.
But maybe not just now.

The sea filled in this silence, before you sank those words. And now even in the darkness, I can see how happy you are.

Not only does he get tongue-tied, but he also worries about you shooting him down in flames, no matter what he says to you.
He very much wants you to see the right shapes, but in the past when he's shown you a circle, you've seen a square.
So, does he poke the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and really concentrate, or does he stick to his word and just give the bare minimum, believing that the small talk was just a means to an end.

He's been sitting on this for days now, and it's very unfair of him to do such a thing. You deserve so much better, and it's apparent that you have and are achieving exactly that, regardless of the circles or squares.

When he only gives you the 'answers', he really hopes that you understand that not only is that all he could muster without getting tugged in the wrong direction again, but also, that you all made it pretty clear what your collective thoughts were.

Time serves its purpose in larger doses.
It hasn't done its job yet.

Just take what you need, and be on your way, and stop crying your heart out.

The best place you can ever be, is at peace and within finger touch of being completely happy with yourself and your life.
That's exactly where I am tonight.
There is usually an influence or catalyst involved, but tonight there's no influence from simple alcohol or drugs. But an influence, all the same, from some higher or possibly deeper spiritual thing. And I love that. That there are things at work in this world, this life, this universe, that we can't understand. But if we could only realise that understanding isn't the important thing here. It's acceptance. Acceptance....an open armed welcome....a true embrace.
I don't know the ins and outs of the human brain, but I have acceptance and confidence in it's power and workings.

Earlier today, a client of mine came back for a brief visit to give me a home made chocolate cake (as a thank you) and we shared a kiss on the cheek. And it's things like that, that rekindle my faith in people. Ok, so not everybody....but some people have good, pure good in their hearts.

Some people are just complete and utter shit-bags. But it's wrong to tarnish the entire population with the same bleak brush. Ok, so maybe the good people always come last in the race of life, but I'd much rather pace myself, in tandem with similar thinking people, and cross that finish line in my own good time.

There's no room for elbows in the chest, sneaky trippings, pushing, shoving or the likes.
Winning and coming out on top isn't the be all and end all.
And for all the people who are stood there waiting at the tape, grinning and smirking at the others way behind them....just think how lonely you are up there. Not only that, but also think about how isolated and cold you feel. In reflection, was it all worth it?

Don't judge.
Don't think for other people.
Don't fill in the blanks.
If you do any of the above, then you might as well isolate yourself from the rest of the human race and live your life in a cocoon of second guesses.

The other night, I went out for a family meal.
The couple to the right of our table were mostly sat in silence. The few times they spoke, it was from the girl, who questioned the guy's motives, his dedication to the relationship and his apparent flippant behaviour.
"You haven't told me that you love me for over a year", she said.
He sat there in silence.
I felt like slapping him on the face and telling him to wise up or fuck off. Whatever his decision, it had to be a deep and heartfelt honest one.

The couple behind us were talking about a third party who had caused a rift in their relationship. The guy was brushing it all off with a roll of his eyes and toss of his hand. The girl was obviously deeply hurt. Not only by the cause, but also by his reaction.
As an outsider, I can see exactly what was wrong.
As an outsider, I wish I could have banged their heads together and helped them sort things out.
What the fuck is all this second guessing shit?!?!?!
They left soon afterwards. She was walking a few steps behind him all the way to the exit.

Why is it so easy to see the shit and problems with other people and yet when it comes down to your own life....well....you just can't see it the same. It's like a blinker, or handcuffs, or some kind of transformation into Disney's Goofy; the dumb fucker.
Ego, maybe? Or perhaps the reaction of close friends? Worry and concern what other may thing of you?
Well, fuck all that shit! They don't live your life!
Is this life worth living, if you live it abiding to other people's rules and regulations, judgements and opinions?
The simple answer....
Nope.

This life is your life.
Live it!

You can throw away all those letters, I don't care about what they say. All those sorrys, there's a million reasons why you can't mend me....

Leona....She goes fucking Mahoosive on her latest album.
It's quite brilliant.

She goes mahoosive:
Stop crying your heart out

And then she takes mahoosive and pisses all over it with this:
Broken

I don't know who she uses as song-writers, but they've done a fantastic job of growing Leona into a whole different level of play. It's an album worthy of any challenge to say; Mariah Carey, Alanis Morissette, Whitney, Evanescence, Avril Lavine, Rhianna, Christina, Britney and the likes.

The album's now over, but something is nagging at me. So, I think back. An earworm is forming already. Four more clicks on the mouse and I find it again....

The slow burning gem:
Can't breathe


Last night I bet my brother twenty quid over 'something'. And although last night I may have been over-brimming with confidence, today I can't even begin to think what the bloody bet was over?!
And this morning, I was late for work. That'll teach me to have a good time when it's slightly inconvenient to my life.

Lots more to say, just not right now. Not a good evening for me.
I should be in bed!


....don't even try.

Don't call it a comeback, we'll hold an event in here. This space is beautiful, I'll decide when it is over.

So, don't call it a comeback.

A message to the guy who invented woofers and tweaters.
"You have no idea how much you changed my life. Thank you!"

The best part about being at a gig? Feeling the air being pushed by sound alone. It's amazing. Deep, deep in the stomach amazing!

How about some:

Meck - Windmills (sundan remix)

or

John O'callaghan feat Sarah Howells - Find Yourself (original mix)

or maybe

Robbie Williams - Morning Sun

I'm going round my brother's tonight. We're having a kind of chilled out post birthday kinda thing. Staying over, work tomorrow and I'm almost certainly going to get very, very stoned. I'm planning on introducing him to 'Handbag House' and taking the piss out of him because he text me last night with a "LOL". How many times do I have to tell him; omfg I don't do internat chat shit ffs, roflmao.

Laters x

Water is my eye. Most faithful mirror. Fearless on my breath. Teardrop on the fire of a confession. Fearless on my breath.

It's absolute fucking genius.

The hook, the riff.

You really need to love this.

You shower me with lullabies, as you're walking away. Reminds me that it's killing time, on this fateful day.

The clue is in the song.

I've had two books, some Terry's Orange segments in a big tub, a bottle of Cava and lots of cards. It seems I've been tracked down again. I must up my roots sometime soon-ish.

Only one of my Manager's knew about today. And she kindly mouthed it to me at the beginning of the morning meeting. Sweet! The cakes and doughnuts might have given something away though, but I blamed another sales guy; who's birthday it was two days ago, saying he was on delayed timing. I think it might have worked.

I love my job, but I'm only earning enough money for my own bills and little else. This pisses me off big time. I have debts to pay back, dammit!
I want to earn enough money....to show them all.

My life has changed in such a huge way.
Maybe people change when it's their time to grow up?
Get eaten by the worms, and weird fishes.
Picked over by the worms, and weird fishes.

The keyboards are meandering....swaying....blurring and warping.
Then the piano comes in.
Up and down, up and down, up and down.
Then the voice.
His pitch perfect voice.
"Snot nosed little punk".
How could you not love it, or even just like it enough to give it a few more chances?

I have a sting in my tail, as far as the stars are concerned.
And that's all you need to remember.

And that I'm frustrated that I can't spread my wings on FaceFuck.

Brother of mine, don't run with those fuckers. When will my friend start singing again?

What sort of idiot wears a white top knowing that he's gonna be drinking red wine during the evening?!
Me.
C'est moi!

The chicken wasn't as nice as the duck, but then again, the dog was nowhere near as good as the pussy.
Meow!

You know....sometimes....sometimes a song just comes on, randomly, and it fits perfectly.

And as I listen to this, the plinky piano merges into cello and violin.

And suddenly, the smiles turn to tears.
Just like a loaded gun.

Today didn't end up how I expected....how I wanted.

*update*
I posted this 20 minutes ago, and I can't stop re-reading it and crying.
I
Feel
Pathetic.

Vulnerable.

What's so great about the great depression? Was it blast for you, cos’ it's blasphemy.

I'm not quite sure if Robbie has hit the nail on the head with that lyric, or if it's corny as fuck.
The jury....my jury is out.
But I do so love Robbie. I can't help it.

Still loving "Bodies".
Currently on my first listen of the album, but so far, it sounds really good. It's good to have the cheeky chap back, even though I loved Rudebox!

And I wonder....is "Blasphemy" about the Gallagher brothers?

And in other news; I think my Business Manager hates me, most of the Service team think I'm gay, the cleaner has, since the incident in the cupboard, been overly flirty with me, Cherry Bakewells are the best (except the cherry part, of course!), Tesco have a '2 bags of various filling doughnuts' for 99p!, a woman ahead of me in the queue at the tobacco kiosk in Tesco was giving us all a blow by blow account of when she won £450 on a scratch card, listening to Morrissey makes me feel good, my Nero burning program seems to have failed me tonight, there are dark chocolate Digestives that are calling my name and begging to be dunked in a coffee, I'm wondering about getting an iPhone and The Very Reverend has visited me tonight. Can you tell?

It's...The....Weekend.
It will be good.

This could be the saddest dusk I've ever seen. Turn to a miracle, high alive. My mind is racing, as it always will.

I have no idea where I'll be in five years' time.
Even in one years' time.
I just don't know.

But I do know that I wont be here anymore, living under my parent's roof, eating their Weetabix and sitting on their cushions.

I do look forward to the future, but I don't measure myself against what could or might be. The future is unknown, and in a way, the not knowing is the most exciting part about it. I guess that's why I've always found myself feeling more comfortable being bed-fellows with spontaneity than planning things out. And I know some people don't like that about me, but that's more their problem than mine.
I really, truly don't have a problem with myself.

I have three tattoos, my navel is pierced, I smoke grass occasionally, I live for music, my kids are my life, and....well, that's about it.
It doesn't matter at all where I live, what I do for a job, what car I drive, what my garden looks like, what state my bank account is in or how much sleep I get.
I think when you've experienced a certain amount of what life has to offer, you find yourself more at peace with yourself. And you can forgive your mistakes, misguidance's and stupid decisions.
Everything about life is a learning curve.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with being scared. You just have to grow beyond it.
Grow beyond it.

" My hands tired, my heart aches. I'm half a world away and go."

Would you tell me I was wrong? Would you help understand? Are you looking down upon me? Are you proud of who I am?

My childhood was shit.
A lot of my younger years were filled with beatings, angry voices and very strict discipline. This, in turn led to lots of feelings of guilt, inadequacy and disappointment on my behalf. And I always measured myself against my older brother, who even now shines in my parents eyes when compared to me.
But in no way do I hold anything against him. In fact, I admire him. Envy him, his wife, his life.
The two of us couldn't have lived anymore different lives. We came from the same parents, we share the same blood, we endured the same upbringing....but we have completely different lives.
I'm sat here now wondering if he loves his life as much as I love mine.

I can't remember anytime when either of my parents told me that they love me. It's not an issue. It's not something I dwell upon. It's just something I accept. My mum and dad are not the sort of people who openly express their feelings. They get more passionate about the latest episodes of Eastenders or Holby. It doesn't bother me.

The three people in my family that I feel closest to is my Nan (my Dad's mum), my Grandad (my Dad's dad) and my Aunt (my Dad's sister). My Nan and Grandad have passed on to a better life now. My Aunt is still....as Simple Minds once sang...."Alive and kicking". She's an absolute gem.
My Nan used to get pissed at Christmas times, dress in crazy clothes, play the piano like Les Dawson and make the most amazing Ready Brek in the world. My Grandad used to dress up in my Nan's clothes at Christmas times, do really crap magic tricks in the style of Tommy Cooper, chain smoke, play chess with me and make the most amazing pickled onions. He stood six foot four, was a damned handsome devil as a young 'un and told the most amazing stories about his childhood.
At my Grandad's funeral, I felt naked....alone....lost....abandoned....
I've never cried so much in my life.

I always felt like the 'favourite', if that's the appropriate way to say it, of their grandchildren, maybe because I was the youngest. I don't know. I just know I felt....special in their eyes.

I can't wait to see them again.

My aunt spoilt me rotten. I used to stay with her over the school summer holidays and she would teach me how to perfect cake baking. And let me eat what I wanted, instead of what was good for me. And let me watch anything I wanted. And let me build a sleeping den out of blankets thrown over the chairs and tables in the dining room. And let me go to bed at whatever time I wanted, especially because it was the school summer holidays. And go for walks with me and their dogs to interesting places.
And she makes a wicked chocolate cake too!

I'm closer to my Aunt than I am to my own Mother. How awful is that to admit?! But, it's true. And I felt closer to my beloved Grandad than my own Father. Again, how awful is that?!

My parents....My own Mum and Dad....I don't think we ever connected properly when I was younger. It's much, much better now. They have really helped me out through thick and thin over the last few years, when I've really needed it. And I've never had to run back to them with my tail between my legs to ask or beg for help, they've just offered it.
My relationship with them now is the best it's ever been.
But again....they don't open up about their feelings or emotional perspective on me and my life. They've just....been there.
I just hope that despite everything else....everything that's happened in my life....despite the fact that my brother gives the two of them the perfect Son's Life....that they feel even just a little proud of me.

We think you're a joke, shove your hope where it don't shine.

A brief moment of silence passed between us; the cleaning lady and I.
A split second later, my facial expression changed to one of disbelief and I actually blurted out a "What The Fuck?" to her, this lady who has sixty years or so of life worn into the wrinkles on her face. This lady who comes into our place of work every weekday at five thirty, on the dot. This completely lovable lady who reminds me so much of a character who's been edited out of a Catherine Tate sketch.

As lovely as she is; imagine the warmest and friendliest Grandmother who looks like she would never say "Boo" to a goose.
As thorough at her cleaning job she might be, (and trust me, she's bloody good), there's something very strange, slightly 'wrong' and worryingly sinister about being told by her that last night her son showed her a film clip on his mobile phone, showing a naked man 'bearing down' on a jam-jar. And if that's not enough information to make your jaw drop, she ended her 'blow-by-blow' description by telling us this guy then clenched his cheeks, resulting in the jar (and subsequent jam) making a rather big, and presumably painful mess.

So, yeah. There was a brief moment of silence.
Once I'd realized that she did just actually tell us that story; delivered in much the same manner and matter-of-fact way as if she were telling us that last night she'd had her hair 'done', made supper for her husband and fallen asleep in front of the tv, I had to break the silence....

bedshaped, "I'm not sure which is more worrying, (insert lovely cleaning lady's name here)....the fact that you've just told us about watching a movie clip of a naked guy inserting a jar of jam in his arse and making it 'explode' in such a matter of fact, yet descriptive way....or that your son actually wanted to show you such a thing on his mobile phone, and let's not forget that you agreed to watch it."

She shrugged her shoulders and carried on polishing the desk.

So, yeah.
That's our cleaning lady.
Lovely woman, she is.
Just be warned that asking, "what did you get up to last night then?" may result in something completely unexpected.
I'm not sure I can look her in the eye anymore. And I'm also not sure if it's giggling material or quite disturbing.
One thing's for sure, I won't be asking her that question again anytime soon.

As far as what 'activity' people get up to behind closed doors, each to their own, I say. Even though I fail to understand certain, let's say, sexual practices. How a guy can get any kind of enjoyment or thrill out of 'jam-jar exploding' is beyond me, but hey, doesn't harm anybody else, does it!

Boy, it's been so long since I held you, I nearly gave you up for dead. I nearly gave you up for dead.

For some reason, I feel like blogging again.

Let me get something straight right now....
I love my life.

Ok, so things might be a little up in the air with certain aspects, but I feel a certain calm. A certain....equal level. I feel like an equal level has been reached, somehow.
And if takes a little longer to feel like we're on the same level, then that's ok. Otis will guide me.

Just remember, there's nothing wrong with the definition of 'different'. It's just a word, and a state of mind. Move forward from that and you will be ok. You will be chilled out in the bath, with an abundance of bubbles, the scent of candles and some Bach, or maybe some Mendelssohn, or maybe, maybe even some Elbow....the choice is yours. But the hands rubbing your tension away are mine.

I can't even begin to describe, so don't ask me.

Call me a fake, Sir. You can call me a fraud. You can spit on my french knickers. You can call me a whore.

I ventured out last night for a meet up with work colleagues.
Initially, it began as an idea for a small and humble gathering and excuse for a drink together, specifically because one of the girls at work is leaving at the end of next week. Either she is far more popular than I ever realized, or somebody at our place ignited the 'piss up on Saturday' fuse because there were about forty people who came out.

It took me a while to get around, but I made sure that I circulated as much as I could, taking some time to speak to pretty much everybody there, because, well, I'm the 'new guy'. I wanted to make the effort to speak to people, put a face to a name and generally have a nice, relaxing evening speaking with other people who work for the same Company.

I came away having learnt two things from last night.
Firstly; everybody, bar a small minority said that it's a really good Company to work for. This made me feel pretty good.
Secondly; everybody who I spoke with last night fell into either the 'gorgeous', 'lovely', 'beautiful' or 'enviably handsome' category. This made me feel....unworthy....out of my league.

The lovely girl who spent most of the night on her mobile, texting and calling her 'boyfriend'. I felt like she was unhappy. The girl who slipped down onto the floor under the influence of drink, flashing her knickers at everyone....I felt she was....a little worse for wear. The guy who looked like he was coked out of his face, taking another girl's digital camera and trying to take pictures 'up girl's skirts' and being all huggy and kissy. The guy who wasn't drinking and offered to take the camera guy home so he didn't make a complete fool of himself. The girl who had changed her career and became a tennis coach, something she'd always wanted to do. The girl who spent twenty minutes or so telling me about her father's recent funeral. The guy who's married to the girl who seems like she's way, way, way out of his league, and yet, they are ultimately happy. The girl who normally comes into our place of work dressed in scruffy dungarees, hair pulled back and face full of paint marks who becomes....well....stunning looking. Like a scene from Flashdance. Trust me, the list goes on and on....
And....oh yes, there appears to be a lot of 'inter department' touchy-feely-how's yer father things going on. It all feels a little....incestous.

It's the second time in a couple of weeks that I've felt like certain people are out of my league. Almost like, it doesn't matter how much like 'me' I am, it's never going to be enough. Even if it were a fairytale situation, where I swept a girl off her feet, rescued her from despair, and then took her hand in mine and led her away from all the stresses of life, even just for a moment. Even kissing her lips, because it felt like the most natural thing in the world, swept her away....stopped the world spinning even just for a split second.
I still felt completely out of my league. And that's only scratching the surface.

I've been distracted with tonight's post by Damien Rice and thoughts of Hannah Montana pyjamas. Yes, it's a tough life sometimes. But when the hair is up, the glasses are on and the tiny t-shirt is worn....everything seems ok.

Good girl's gone bad. The city's filled with them.

If you are in love with somebody, just how much tolerance can you hold for them?
I mean....of course, nobody is perfect, but how forgiving can a person be?

Ok, so 'love' is the important factor here, whether a person 'loves' another person, or is in love with them, which to me is two very different things, but surely there must a be a line, possibly a blurry one that once crossed, taints the feelings, even if just a little.

I watched a couple walking down the street earlier today. They were holding hands, strolling in sync, chatting to each other with each stride. And then the guy spat, several times on the ground. Now, I understand that everybody has different tolerance levels, but really! Can a girl really turn a blind eye, or find this sort of thing tolerable? It just looks so....well, so bloody horrible. And it wasn't just a 'spit'. It was a 'flob'. He made that horrible, internal grinding noise as he sucked in through his throat, then flobbed the spit out, with a certain degree of aim and accuracy I might add. Now, how can a girl....any girl find this sort of thing acceptable? Not only that, but how can she not be a little disgusted at such an act.
Maybe it's me.
Maybe I'm just some kind of prude when it comes to personal acts like this. But whatever I am, I still find the whole thing a disgusting act. Ok, for some reason, the guy may have had to get rid of excess saliva, but to do it several times and to make such an 'act' of it....? It's almost like he was doing it to make a positive impression.
Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'm just very out of touch with people nowadays?! Maybe behind closed doors, the girl likes him to spit all over her when they are being intimate. After all, stranger things happen, don't they?

If you really love somebody, is this the sort of thing that you are able to turn a blind eye to? Or perhaps it's just not an issue with most couples nowadays. Like, it's the norm. Guy's flob their spit out on the pavements. No biggy.

All I know, is that I'd never dream of spitting in front of anybody else. I never have any reason or urge to spit when I'm on my own, never mind in front of other people.

And it's laughter that I hear when I close my eyes. And it's one more punchline I forgot to learn.

Closing my eyes, I can quite simply drift away to a place of wonderment. Mr and Mrs Judgy McJudge don't live anywhere near this place. They are so far away, even if they blew smoke signals, I wouldn't be able to see them.
Is it such a catalyst of people's lives that they can't simply accept people for what they are, without sounding out their unwanted and unwelcome opinions.

My place of wonder isn't full of hopes and dreams, lingering thoughts of peace and tranquility, wishes of happiness and contentment.
No.
No hopes or dreams. No thoughts. No wishes. No striving, driving or desires for a better surrounding, a better quality, a better me. Because my place of wonder, when I close my eyes, is a future me that is perfectly possible to become. And when I get there, I shall want for nothing else in my wishes, my hopes and dreams, because I'll already be there as myself.

For yourself, for your own personal inner happiness....nothing is impossible and no journey could ever been so perilous that it becomes impossible. You just have to believe in yourself.

I'll make sure I let everybody know when I get there.

Meet me on the road. Meet me where I said. Blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head .

I was just myself.
Whatever happens, nobody can take that away from me.

It's not Shakespeare. Although to some degree, he's been a relevant dude today. And so was opening the door. Because courtesy and manners cost absolutely nothing.

Money isn't everything. In fact, it's nothing when compared to true happiness.

Allocate your sentiment and stick it in a box. I've never been an extrovert, but I'm still breathing.

Family get-togethers.
*sigh*
Always the same.
I spent last night with my folks, my brother and his wife, my niece and her boyfriend, and an amalgamation of 'friends' for a wedding reception. Amalgamation may be the wrong word, but it's late and my brain is sketchy.

Dear friends and family,
It's very sweet of you to think of me. It's oh so kind of you to spare a thought for me in your own busy lives. It's lovely and warming to see how much you care about me. But seriously....I'm not 'with' anybody at the moment, but please....try not to see that as such a negative thing. I'm just fine how I am. My life is good. Everything is cool. I don't 'need' to be with somebody just because you see it as the 'norm'. I don't need a partner because in your eyes I must get lonely or sex-starved or will be seen as an 'odd' person. I don't feel abnormal or weird or out-of-place just because I don't have somebody on my arm. I know you think I need to be with somebody....anybody....but seriously, I don't. So please, please stop trying to push me in the direction of other single people. Please stop suggesting potential partners. And please, please stop showing me pity in your eyes. I'm just fine the way I am.

If you only think and remember one thing about me, it's that I'd rather be alone for the right reasons, than with somebody for the wrong ones.

Much love and respect,

bedshaped x

I've recently been asked when the last time it was that I cried.
How about while listening to this....

Polly.

I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask.

So....
Why do I sneeze when I'm plucking my eyebrows?

And then she said "Darling, you don't understand. It was the black sambucas and it got out of hand."

Last Saturday night, I was reminded several times why I hate going out to pubs and clubs. Especially in this crappy town where I've found myself, once again.
Apart from the brief moment my friend and I were told off like a pair of naughty schoolboys for dancing on the furniture in the club, the later parts of the night, where the trouble usually kicks off, never happened. Although our group of thirteen or fourteen guys out celebrating a 'stag night' for a friend who's getting married this coming Saturday, all dressed in Hawaiian shirts were probably an easy target, nothing else much happened. But then again, the fight that broke out between two guys over a girl and a pool table in the 'quiet pub' that we'd all met up in at 7.30 was enough to set all the bad reminders off in my head at such an early stage. I guess that had already tainted the night for me.

It's probably been almost ten years since I've been out for a proper night on the tiles in this crappy town that I'm currently calling home. The fashions have changed, with the girls, anyway. Most of them seem to dress like they are auditioning for the next position to become free in The Pussycat Dolls. It's tragic and a little pathetic. It makes you feel like you can't even strike up a conversation with any of them, without them thinking that the only reason you're talking to them is because they are dressed like a hooker and you want to get into their knickers! Well, actually, no. I just wanted to enjoy the night....see if you were enjoying the music....ask if it's always a packed night in this club....have some small talk and chit chat. But of course, you're a Pussycat Doll wannabe, strutting your stuff around like you own the place, bumping and grinding like an extra in an R Kelly music video....so of course my only intentions are sexual!
How on earth can you just go out an enjoy yourself in that kind of atmosphere?

The guys are just as bad. Ok, they aren't so provocatively dressed, but most of them look like they are auditioning for the next Twilight movie. Emotionless faces. Holding onto their pints like their lives depended on it. Occasionally changing their weight to the other leg, allowing them to strike yet another pose that's taken straight from Zoolander.

I left on Saturday night feeling completely disappointed in the so called clubbing scene in this town. My only solace and 'fun' were the times I dragged my brother up to dance to Chaka Khan and Prince, amongst others. Oh, and taking a liking to having several attempts at 'pole dancing'.

I walked with my brother back to his house, where his wife was still up, waiting for us to get back. I was kind of expecting to find her behind the front door, rolling pin in hand, anger and frustration in her face. Especially after the text messages she repeatedly sent to his and my phones asking the same thing; "Are you intending on coming back anytime soon!!!!".
The three of us sat together in the dining room, his iPod docked between two tinny sounding woofers and playing random, while we talked about our evenings. By this time it was fast approaching 3am. Shortly after, my brother stood up and announced he was too tired and was hitting the sack. I was torn between ringing for a taxi or sleeping over. I did neither. My sister-in-law and I stayed up all night talking, putting the world to rights and listening to my brother's music choices on his iPod. Everything was going ok until Scooter came on! I really need to speak to him about that!
The stupid o'clock conversations would have been nice, lovely even, had they not been broken on several occasions with outrageous flirting and quite frankly uncomfortable conversations from my sister-in-law....my own brother's wife....bordering on sexual suggestions that were just wrong, wrong, wrong!
I laughed them off.

I've since had a text message from her apologising, saying she feels embarrassed and ashamed and blaming the drink. Such an easy thing to blame, huh?
Why do some people never learn about the shitty effects of alcohol?!

I've not replied to her.

You think there may be something wrong with you, to make you doubt your love like this.

On Tuesday, I found out that the Stag Party I'm attending on Saturday night is themed. Hawaiian shirts for all to be exact.
My day off on Wednesday was mostly spent going around the shops, asking the shop assistants if they could help me out with such attire. I was met with either blank, shocked or dismayed looks. The result being that I was left with no Hawaiian shirt for the Stag Party and further instructions that if I couldn't find one at short notice, then anything bright, colourful, cheerful and out of the ordinary would suffice.
I found a place online late Wednesday night, placed an order and got a bright pink Hawaiian shirt, with "Hawaii" lettering, islands and palm trees printed all over it delivered to my work-place this morning.
Saved by the bell!

As an advanced warning, anything that's posted here on Saturday night/early Sunday morning is done so 'under the influence' and is not to be taken seriously. And of course such a post will be removed when I rise from the dead on Sunday, anyway.

Breathe me, everytime you close your eyes. Taste me, everytime you cry.

Ask most guys what their favourite part of a girls' body is, and if they're honest, they will answer with either a girls' tits or arse. Whilst I can appreciate both of these, as any guy can, neither of these would be my choice of favourite part. In fact, I don't think they would even come in the top five, even if such a list existed. Which, for the record, doesn't.

For me, my favourite part of a girl's body is, and always has been the same. For as long as I can remember, anyway. It's probably got a proper name, but I'm buggered if I know what it is, and can't be arsed to find out. Besides, knowing the proper, medical name for it would probably taint it for me a little, and I don't want that. I like it just the way it is.

Humour me just for a moment. Imagine a girl standing naked before you, facing away from you. I know, it's a a tall order, but....
Where her back ends and her bum begins....well, that's the place. I know that technically there isn't anything between the base of a girl's back and her bum, they just....merge together. But, it's at the point where they merge.
Ok, so I've maybe failed miserably with my written description, so here's where my research and pictorial guides come in.
Oh, by the way, even though I've ensured that nothing 'naughty' is shown, these may be NSFW. Ok?










And yes, I kept the long hair in for a reason.

Don't ask me why it's my favourite place. I don't know. But it's a place that, for me, just wants to be kissed, caressed, stroked, loved, have circles drawn upon it, brushed against, breathed on, licked, rubbed, massaged, touched....

People have completely different preferences and tastes when it comes to what they find physically attractive in their partners.....lovers...whatever. And I'm just the same. But I have to say that everything else about the person makes such a huge impact and compliment to their physical being that I've come to the conclusion that I don't have a 'type', as it were. There's certain things I really like, yes. Like long hair, nice eyes, nice eye make up, a girl who takes pride in her appearance, skirts, strappy tops, silver jewellery, the occasional well thought out and well placed tattoo, glasses....then there's a girl who has an open mind, a sense of humour, is spiritual in her thinking, loyal, sensitive, emotional, ambitious and driven, artistic, loves music, likes discovering new things, has a good heart and soul, is trusting and trustworthy....
And without wanting to sound horribly shallow, there are certain things I've mentioned there that I just wouldn't give up. But, I've realized that a girl can be unbelievably attractive to me without fitting into all or even most of my preferred things. It's very, very difficult to explain. If you were sat next to me and I was talking with you, then I'd probably be able to explain it better. But you're not. So maybe we should just leave it there.

There's one thing that I will never forget to understand, cherish and live by. And that's that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Nothing else in this life will or can ever change that for me.

I love the feeling when we lift off. Watching the world so small below. I love the dreaming when I think of... the safety in the clouds out my window.

I've only been working just over a week, and already I'm tiring of the banter between the guys when they talk about girls. It doesn't seem to matter where you work, what your social life is, who is in your circle of friends....there are always those sort of guys who seem to think that it's ok to talk about girls like they are pieces of meat.
It internally annoys me.
It gets to me.
It makes me feel embarrassed.
It makes me feel like walking away, and I often do.

We have six girls working at our place. None of them....not one of them can understand my brand of humour. Mind you, none of the other guys there can either. Maybe it's too early. Or maybe they will never get me. I hope in time they do, because the only people who think of me as the odd one out....the black sheep, as it were, is my family. And nothing I do will ever change that. I'm just....accepted, the way I am.

Sometimes, I wonder if anybody outside of my family will get me. Perhaps I'm just always gonna be misunderstood, to a certain degree. Looked upon with a frown, a squint, a pair of eyes full to the brim with suspicion and disbelief.

I've never pretended for one minute that I'm anything other than a little 'different'. Where it came from, I don't know. My childhood maybe? My up-bringing? My life that's been repeatedly shit upon?
To me, it doesn't matter so much where it came from. I am what I am. And if other people don't, wont, or can't accept me for who I am, then it's their problem, not mine.
I'm really proud to be me.
Mental breakdown aside. I know I am a good person. And if the world was filled with more good people, it would, without doubt, be a much, much better place.

This girl I know, needs some shelter. She don't believe anyone can help her. She's doing so much harm, doing so much damage.

So put the snoring and slight dribbling aside.
Start breathing.

Maybe it will take a while before you realize. But when you do, it will hit you like hammer.
I hope you're prepared.

I'll stop turning away from you, if you stop reading erotica and fucking yourself with your toys.
I'll start being more open with your friends when you stop fantasizing about fucking them.

I am the Sean Connery to your Roger Moore.
I am the Han Solo to your chewbaca.
I am the Duckie boy to your Watts.

Think about it.

Maybe you will never know the full potential. And that's just a shame. Such a shame.

Nothing will ever change it, not even if you spunk over my my hair, my chest....whatever. Nothing. Some things will never, ever change.

It's just your outlook that you needs to change.
And maybe one day it will come.
Or maybe you will never change your outlook, because that's how you feel.
It doesn't matter how many facts and figures you need, just ask.

Our minds pressed and guarded, while our flesh disregarded the lack of space for the light-hearted, in the boom that beats our drum.

I was gonna post tonight.
In fact, I'm almost finished with what I have to say. But....I was researching some pictures to go along with it, and well....I kinda got sidetracked.
*ahem*

Good job I have the house to myself this weekend!




Sometimes I am far too cryptic for my own good.