Even the white rose has many a sharp thorn. And I left your side with a handshake and a wave goodbye.

I feel like the only things I'm good at is hiding my feelings and getting stoned.
The latter has been infrequent, thanks to my Bank Manager, so I guess I've been wearing my mask a little more often.
And the scary thing is, it's so easy to wear.
Ask me how I'm doing...."Yeah, fine", I'll reply. "How's work?"...."Yeah, up and down, yano." Ask me if there's any news on the house and I'll give you a "Na, nothing yet. Everywhere seems quiet." My Mum will ask me how I'm doing for money and I'll reply with a line about just scraping through each month by the skin of my teeth, when in reality I'm sinking, sinking, sinking.
When I'm wearing it, I can go onto Auto-Pilot. It's all so easy.

So easy.

I want you to know that I'm not really doing fine. Actually, I'm worried, concerned and generally scared shitless. I want you to know that I'm not getting enough work to survive. I want you to understand that I'm really worried about putting all my eggs in one basket. I want you to know that I'm flat broke. I just can't ask you to help anymore. It's been breaking my heart. I want you to know that I'm falling apart inside, because I just can't see the end. Yes, I know it's there, but I just can't see it. I want you to know that I feel like house is gonna turn into a curse for me. I want you to understand how scary it feels to know that in potentially six weeks time, I wont be here anymore. I'll be up there, with The Girl. As elated as I feel about being closer to The Girl, you should know that I'm also scared to death of anything in our relationship going wrong. And if that goes wrong and everything else falls apart or doesn't materialize....

And the stupid thing about it all is....if I took off my mask once in a while, I'd probably feel your hand on my shoulder.

I feel really stupid sometimes.

And there's too much going on. But it's calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion.

I feel lost.

I'm moving in slow motion, while everything else around me zooms by.
And it scares me.

And sometimes it still get so hard to handle, that I take my pick of Fight or Flight.
Curling up inside myself gives me the most comfort, like your arm around my waist.
Like my head upon your shoulder.

I've struggled this last week. Struggled to express myself properly on here. The Girl says I should stop analyzing it so much and just push post. Maybe she's right.

How about how good it feels to finally forgive you. How about grieving it all, one at a time.

I think I might have fallen out of love with Alanis last night.

It's no good. I simply can't fall out of love with her. I think we're just having what one might call "A lover's tiff."

Dear Alanis,
What the fuck just happened? I'm sorry to have to say this, but you've really let yourself go and you just don't look like you're bothered. Admittedly, there were a few lovely, touching moments where you seemed to recognise that we were all cramped in there because we believed in you. They were few and far between though, weren't they?
I know you've been going through a rough time lately, since you split up with your boyfriend. It must be very hard and emotional. But I have to say that your emotion was lacking tonight. And Alanis singing without emotion just isn't Alanis.
Your band. Well, they weren't that tight, were they. In places, they sounded like they'd only just got together as a band. Oh, and fire your sound engineer.
I know you've got it in you to come back from this horrible place you obviously find yourself in. I've seen you do it before, you can do it again.
So, I'm just gonna give us a little 'space', ok? Gonna give you a little 'space'.
In the meantime, I'm gonna have to sleep somewhere else. I'll stay at my Brother's place. I just can't be around you too much right now.
Call me....Ok?

Love
bedshaped x

Tell you something that I've found, that the world's a better place when it's upside down.

So, The Girl tells me that if I were to ever go to the Doctor with a problem with my downstairs departments, then I should allow a little time for my pubes to 'grow out'. Apparently, my 'pruning' techniques may be frowned upon by said Doctor.
This grew out of a discussion we were having about the last time she made a visit to her Doctor and was, as she went on to explain, met with a mixture of surprise and mumbled "Ye Gods!" when she 'assumed the position'. Mind you, I did tell her that perhaps the extra trimming, shaving and pruning into the shape of a down-pointing arrow may have been over doing things a little! She didn't do that really. It was just something that popped into my head during the conversation we had, along the lines of, "Well, it's not like you'd shaped your lady garden into something like a star or a heart or a duck...."
She seemed a little surprised that I didn't realise that this is the sort of thing that girls think about when they have to make a visit to the Doctor, where a peek of their equipment would be involved.
"Do I leave myself Au Naturel? Do I prune and trim a little to tidy myself up? Am I bothered that I take the whole lot off normally or is that going too far? How far is too far?"

I'd be terrible as a girl. I'd probably shave the whole lot off and when the Doctor clapped eyes on my nether's, I'd be saying, "Yeah, who's the Daddy now!". In my head of course.

I shall be filing this information alongside other useful bits, such as discovering that if a girl goes out on a date and has no intention of letting anyone get into her pants, then she wont shave her legs.

Funnily enough, the conversation about 'pube presentation' came about from her telling me that she's given her feet a little make-over, pruning and painting her toe-nails etc, because she's going to see her Doctor about an issue she might have with her feet.
"It's all about making the right impression", she tells me.
If you ask me, I don't think Doctors actually give a shit about any of that. It's not like they would go home after a day in the surgery and make a conversational point about somebody's pubes, or feet, or whatever. That's surely a sign of a Doctor with too much time on their hands and we all know that's something they don't have.

Well, I think you’d find out if you dared to stay. That far away is a place inside yourself.

I miss reading about her thoughts. Thoughts she hadn't already told me.
And about her day to day. Whatever things they were.
I miss filling in the gaps that sit between our conversations.
And just the primative thought that she's there....active....alive.

Over a recent period, The Girl has stopped blogging. She appears to have migrated to Facebook, which she keeps asking me to sign up for. I dunno. Facebook always sounded like the next level of Friends Reunited to me. Maybe she enjoys it more, because she feels like she can be more like herself. And that's why I can't do it, because I think Facebook loses that anonymous level to a certain degree. And on an acceptable level, Blogger has given me a place where I can reveal as little as I want.
I leave reading between the lines up to anybody who stumbles across here.

It's weird, even though we talk every single day, I still miss reading those little things. Even if she tells me about them again.

Girls, you've got to know when it's time to turn the page. When you're only wet because of all the rain.

*Sigh*
I love Tori Amos. The quirkiness goes without saying, but her songs, her words, the way she expresses herself....
*Sigh*
She's also on 'The Laminated List', but she'll never, ever come off. How could I, to somebody who writes and sings something like "Northern Lad".

"Say Anything" is on one of the channels tonight. I love that movie. I've been trying to find a torrent for it, for ages. That scene when John Cusack plays that song outside her house, holding the player up in his hands. That's gotta qualify for one of the greatest scenes ever, right?

I'm currently having a brilliant time loving music. Even Alphabeat's album sounds good to me.
So, I'm currently loving music, gonna watch a great movie, then I'll catch up on the day's happenings in the Big Brother house.
Rachel is my current favourite. I'd like to see Lisa evicted on Friday, then I'd like to see at least one new person over the weekend.

Northern Lad - Tori Amos.

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

I was reading the results of a sex survey earlier. I think it was a couple of years old, but was collated from information from over 300,000 people.
The results were pretty much what one would expect, allowing for the fact that some people might have exaggerated their responses or even just lied.Considering I was reading about people's sexual preferences, like positions, fantasies, masturbation et al, the one thing that stood out to me was that almost sixty percent of woman who responded, said they would divorce their husband or leave their partner if it wasn't for their financial position.
Blimey, I'm not sure if I'm shocked at that or if it's kind of what I suspected.

In a conversation with The Girl tonight, the subject of 'Jelqing' (Link possibly NSFW) came up, to which she asked me if I was considering doing it myself. Yeah, as if! *Ahem*

Ha, interesting that the Blogger spell checker doesn't recognise "Jelqing".

Lip gloss, bold as blood. You got 'em linin' up.

Alison Goldfrapp is my latest thing.
There's just something about her. She's quirky, she's unconventional, she strives to be just that little bit different. I find that mahoosively attractive in people.
I really need to make the effort to catch them live next time they come round. That's certainly a gig that I'd consider throwing up a pair of my shorts on the stage, for the second time for. The first time was when Catatonia played at the Civic in Wolverhampton. That Cerys used to do naughty things to my mind. I wrote my phone number on them before I threw them up. They landed next to the mic stand....she just gave them a shocked look. They stayed there until after they'd gone off. Then a roadie came on and took them off with him. Now I'm hoping he gave them to Cerys. I'll never know, although I did get an odd call to my mobile a few weeks later.

Anyway....Alison. I'm afraid this puts me in somewhat of a dilemma. I'd like her on 'The List'. Yano, that laminated list of five people who, even if you're in a relationship, you're allowed to think of them in yummy way. There may even be some oggling, but considering the people on the list are of a celebrity status, in some way, shape or form, then it's ok to dream naughty things about them, 'cos the chances of you actually fulfilling that fantasy is about as likely as fuel prices coming down.
Adding her to the list means I obviously have to remove somebody else from those 5 to make room for her. I think the rule of 'The List' is that five is usually the acceptable number. Although I'd like to state, for the record, that The Girl keeps mentioning people on 'her list' and I'm sure she's around the Ten mark.

Can't say I particularly like the blonde hair though.




Download this track, or play it if you've already got it and tell me that doesn't sound like the most fun you could have with programmers and a Ragtime Piano.

Goldfrapp - "Satin Chic"

What are we supposed to do, after all that we’ve been through. When everything that felt so right is wrong. Now that the love is gone.

Today, I spent three hours in the company of a couple who did nothing but argue and moan at each other all the time. As I busied myself with my head stuck underneath their kitchen sink, I could hear them in the other room; moaning, whining, shouting, raising their voices. And it was all completely pointless. It was almost like they couldn't 'talk' to each other. No normal conversations, no chit chat, no talking. Just spurts of raised voices about pointless things. I wonder if they even know how to talk to each other, you know, in a normal fashion.
Some couples are just like that though, aren't they? It's not necessarily a reflection on their relationship that they moan and shout and argue a lot of the time. They just do. But they remain in their relationship, because that's just how they are. I guess it's just something they're used to. I guess it's just part of them being together.
I can't deny that it made me feel a little uncomfortable when they kept breaking the silences by going off at one another. I felt like saying, "Look, who gives a shit about shoelaces, mobile phones, what to watch on TV or any other completely pointless thing you've been arguing about. Just give each other a hug and remember why you both got together."
I didn't though. I just tried to blank it out by uncomfortably humming to myself and imagining I was somewhere else.
It was a relief to finish that job and drive away.

My mind is muddy, but my heart is heavy, does it show.

There's nothing nice about being ill.
When you live on your own and have nobody else around, being ill makes you feel even more crap than you already do.
Not because you want to be waited on, pampered or mothered.
Not because you want somebody asking how you're feeling fourteen different ways.
Not because you want verbal or physical sympathy.

You just want somebody there....
It makes all the difference.

I think I'm coming out the other side of it now. Not much comfort in that though, considering being ill has meant I've not been able to see The Girl this weekend. She called me "unclean".

Prior to falling ill, I'd finished a complete re-fit of somebody's bathroom. Originally I thought ten days. Finished in six. Not too bad considering I had to take out all his old suite units, take the old tiles off the wall, strip three walls down to bare brick, take up the old flooring, rip up the floorboards to re-pipe everything, dry-line and plaster the walls, rebuild the window-shelf, tile the walls and floor (which I had help with), build some boxing, change two radiators for towel-warmer rails and then re-fit a new suite. It might have been a day less had that nail not gone through his hot water pipe, but let's not mention that one!

House For Sale Watch : Day Thirty One.
Nothin' Happenin'.
I think it's time to get another Estate Agent signed up, much as it pains me to do so. I'm also gonna be dropping the price.

And through the open window, I think the singing went outside and floated up to tell all the stars not to hide.

A heartfelt hug is worth more than all the money in the world.

And sing me back to sleep. This is far more than I had bargained for.

It's quite a strange experience to be asked about your anal sex experiences within 20 minutes of meeting your partner's friends for the first time.
Fab Cafe was pretty good, although the music did spill over into the crap category at times, even though the girl who used to play Tracy Barlow in Coronation Street was the DJ. I was told she's pretty good. She isn't.
I was grateful to the girl who grabbed my arm and pointed me in the right direction whilst I was pushing my way into the girl's toilets. Not so grateful to the guy stood next to me whilst taking a piss, who let out an Earth rumbling fart that stunk the place out.
The evening couldn't have ended on a more random note, with a guy hanging onto the door window of our taxi, proclaiming that he only had a small arsehole and had a fear of it being stretched if he gets raped.

And do you feel scared - I do, but I wont stop and falter. And if we threw it all away, things can only get better.

I cut the end of my finger whilst doing a job for somebody earlier today.
Not just a 'nick' or a surface 'slice', a proper deep slash. It was one of those "ouch" moments, when you just know that you've cut yourself, but when you look at it, for the first....oh I dunno, five seconds, there's nothing apparent there. Then the blood starts seeping out.
Normally a plaster is sufficient, so I wrapped some toilet paper around it and made my way down the stairs to get to my first aid kit in the van outside. My first aid kit comprises of a box of assorted sized plasters and....well, that's it. By the time I'd reached the bottom of their stairs, there was so much blood, I had trouble trying to catch the dribbles and fathom out how to open their Deadlock system on the front door. Luckily, I managed to get outside before the blood spillage was more than I could handle, literally! I'm surprised one of their neighbour's didn't come running out to challenge me, screaming "murderer!", considering I had a look of panic on my face and was swiftly running up the path, away from their house with blood dripping from both hands by this time.
I need to re-stock my 'first aid kit', as not one, not two, but five plasters were required to stop said bleeding.

As is usually the case, later on in the day, when I get a chance to shower and slowly remove the plaster, it never looks as bad as it did. Although of course, by this time, the constant pumping of blood has ceased and what I'm left with is normally a cut that doesn't look too bad.
This particular cut looks pretty deep to me. I can do that thing, that if I gently squeeze the cut at each end, I can open and close it up, a bit like a mouth.

When I get slashed up like this, it always has a knock on effect on most things I do. Gripping things, turning things on and off, holding things, making thing....the list goes on....and it's only when you hurt yourself like this that you realise just how much of a pain in the arse it can be.
I'm struggling to type, because I generally only use two or three fingers and the injured one is apparently one of said fingers. And it's weird, because now I'm sat here struggling with it, thinking about it, I didn't realise I would have used my middle finger so much when I'm typing. But I do, because it's causing me grief.
Having crisps in my sandwich is probably not a wise idea and it also puts hold on any plans of a 'hand-shuffle' I might have had. I hope The Girl isn't gonna be too unhappy when she sees how 'incapable' it's made me become, especially as we're seeing each other this weekend. A swift healing and recovery is therefore needed, although luckily, I always have my other hand and that's got five perfectly working digits on it!

The ticker-tape tangles my feet, as I search for a face that I know.

Lately, I've spent a lot of time thinking about ideas and designs for another tattoo. This will be my forth. One on each of my upper arms and the third at the base of my back, which hurt the most.
When I was sketching out and designing them, it was always at significant times of my life. Times when I felt like I'd reached the end of a certain path, so it was time to cut through the trees and hedges to begin taking a different one. I guess I'm inking a map, signifying points of my life and committing them to a permanent state.
It feels like the 'right time' to start playing with some ideas.



House For Sale Watch : Day Thirteen.

Nothin' happenin'.

Ride it on out, like a bird in the sky way. Ride it on out, like you were a bird,

I think it's fair to assume that if I live for the next 30,40 or even 50 years, that within that time-frame, nobody is gonna have invented a time travel device.
If, during your own lifetime, time travel becomes a reality, then surely you would go back to somewhere in your own life, to drop some tips, give some hints, or at the very least let yourself know that things turn out cool.

I can't deny what I've become. I'm just emotionally undone. I can't deny, I can't be someone else.

House For Sale Watch : Day Seven.

Nothin' happenin'.

I think I over did it with the Weetabix last night. As a consequence, today I've been feeling very small, very insignificant, very insecure.
I've had to 'borrow' yet more money off my mum to pay for that stupid Home Information Pack that all house sellers have to have now.
It pains me to have to keep asking for help.
It makes me feel weak.

And I'm running low on coffee.

Four letter word just to get me along. It’s a difficulty and I’m biting on my tongue.

House For Sale Watch: Day Six

Nothin' happenin'.

I watched 10,000BC the other day. How the fuck does a movie like this get given the green-light?! Ok, so the studios are given a pitch from the script, but come on. It's just a load of old bollocks.
I bet the studios didn't hear a pitch like this; "Different 'tribes' of people, big elephants, a bit tiger, some walking, some more walking, a few things quietly borrowed from the script of Stargate The Movie, a crazy woman, a staff and the rest we'll just make up as we go along."

Sunday morning saw me overcome with an urge for Charles Hawtrey.
Monday morning saw me with an urge to sing "That's not my name" repeatedly, much to The Girl's annoyance. On both counts, actually.
Today has seen me mostly cleaning things out and tidying things up. And some Freecycling.

Life is a waterfall. We drink from the river, then we turn around and put up our walls.

House For Sale Watch: Day One
Nothing.

Feeling a bit mixed up.

You are the only thing in any room you're ever in. I'm stubborn, selfish and too old.

4oz of sugar
4 oz of butter/marge
7 oz of flour
2 eggs
a little milk

Essential criteria for an evening when The Girl and I get stoned, listening to Elbow, trying to make sense of Bookworm.
And every now and then, I'm being reminded that The Girl played the word "quim" against her mum on Scrabulous....

The whole town's slipping down a hill, like the spine of something dead.

A day in the life with three Estate Agents.

The first guy I liked. He was down to earth, didn't use any lingo and ran through the pros and cons of using his agency to market the house. I thought he was honest and upfront with me, which is a refreshing change to how most Estate Agents are perceived. And he actually gave me the impression that he wants to sell my house. Cool. Oh and he likes Elbow. Double bonus for him. I almost felt like getting the bong out!

The second guy was a cock. He kept calling me mate and reminding me about his twenty years 'in the game'. When I asked him to explain how he would market a property, he replied that mail outs would be sent advertising a 'new instruction', adverts would be in the local paper for 2 weeks and every 4 weeks after that, and....well, that's all he said. I didn't question him anymore on it, it just gave me the impression that they give you a couple of weeks push for a sale, then give up on it. Great.

The third guy appeared to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, reminding me of Gil from The Simpsons. He did the usual tour of the house, asking questions. Then, I went to ask him about the market, to which he replied that it was in a slump and had been for a good six months or so. He continued, telling me how much slower their business has been and that it's very difficult 'makes ends meet'. I actually started to feel sorry for the guy. There he was, sat telling me how desperate his Agency is for business and I actually started to feel sad. My melancholy feeling didn't last for long though. He asked me what I thought of the price he presumably just picked out of the air; a whopping 20 grand higher than either of the other two guys' valuations.
No wonder he's finding it difficult to find business if he values his houses like that. I just didn't get the whole 'oh woe is me, sales are slow, the market is in a ditch..." and then such a high value on the house?!
Surely, get the valuations right, so you not only get the houses to market, but also the sale.
"Hello! McFly!"
Unless of course, he didn't think he could sell the house for one reason or another. Maybe he purposely over-valued the house, thinking I'd never go with him. The sneaky fucker! Well, maybe I will go with him after all.

....and that HIPS pack is a fucking rip off!