We can play it safe, or play it cool. Follow the leader, or make up all the rules. Whatever you want, the choice is yours. So choose.

Sometimes it takes a while to realize that you're actually in a good place.

I am in a good place.

She says; "The only thing I've ever found, that's greater than it always sounds..... Is love"

Sometimes love gets in the way of making the right decisions.
Or perhaps my judgement is clouded and I'm not seeing the bigger picture.

I can do it like a brother, do it like a dude. Grab my crotch, wear my hat low like you.

How time has flown. Dexter is almost six months and growing into a strapping young lad, although I took him to the vets the other day to have his dangly bits 'doctored'. Poor little guy!
He's now stopped his previous routine to wake me up; crawling under the bed covers to nibble at my toes and ankles. Nowadays, he just climbs on top of me and paddles away until he feels me stirring. Lovely and cute as hell, but not so at stupid o'clock!
Since I've been in this house for a good few weeks now, and he's been....*ahem*....doctored, it's time I thought about letting him out. He obviously wants to explore outside and spends a lot of time on the window sills, staring outside at what could be. I can only hope he comes back and doesn't do what my previous cat, Jewel did and just never come back.
A while ago, I promised my niece that I would take care of her cat when I got back into my own place. She moved away from her parents and found herself with two problems that prevented her from taking her cat with her; finding a rented property with a landlord that was ok with pets, and a boyfriend that came out in a horrible rash due to allergies he never knew he had. I'm still working out the logistics and timing of bringing her cat over, but it feels like sometime soon would be a good idea. I might have to think about giving her a more appropriate name though. I hope she wont mind.

You got wires, going in. You got wires, coming out of your skin. You got tears, making tracks. I got tears, that are scared of the facts.

My Uncle died last week.
I can't say we were close at all, but the effect on my family, especially my mum; who's brother he was, has darkened my insides and left me with a twisted, knotty feeling.
He's in a much better place now, wherever that may be.

A few weeks ago, I moved out of my parents house. Dexter, Marley and I are trying to pretend that everything's alright here. It quite obviously isn't. We're all doing okies though, despite everything that's happened and is currently happening.

Forget me not, I ask of you. Wherever your life takes you to.

Around 10am today, my dad wandered into where I work and told me my Uncle was dead. Apparently so ill and beyond any kind of recovery, a decision was made to switch off his life support machine.
When I went round to see my folks after work, the first words out of my mum's mouth was that he wasn't dead at all.
He's still on life support.
Stupid fucking American laws, rules and regulations.

Hopefully soon, he will be at peace.

You find some best friends. We'll hold each other and I'll turn the bells.

Just a few things to say tonight....

•  The new guy at work has really bad B.O. He may not be aware of it, or it may be a medical condition, but it's unpleasant and people are starting to talk.
•  Since he started, and I'm not pointing the finger here, but it's a bloody big coincidence, someone is leaving an awful mess in the guy's toilets lately. Specifically, the toilet pan. Sometimes it looks like someone's been trying to flush away a poop from an elephant....without success!
• I feel a lot better after ranting last night.

They're the ones who'll hate you, when you think you've got the world all sussed out. They're the ones who'll spit at you. You will be the one screaming out.

Feeling pretty numb, the consequence of our conversation last night.

After dropping it on me at the very last minute, last Sunday night; "I'm going away for a few days. Actually, until Friday evening. I'm going somewhere to sort my head out. I just need some time, some space, some peace to get some kind of order going in my head. I have so many things going on in my life. I need this. And I hope you can give me this time. You wont be able to reach my phone; no calls, no text messages. But I promise you, it's all going to get sorted out and will be for the best. You have to trust me."
I know you have a lot going on. I know you have things you need to get your head around. I want to help you to help yourself, so yes, even though you give me just a few hours notice....I respect your wishes and take what you've just told me as the truth. I trusted you on your words. And I gave you that space, that silence, that peace.

You could never have kept this hidden from me. That was just a ridiculous thought.

When you actually opened up a little last night, after some persuasive and persistent conversation from me....When you dropped the bomb, when you talked about yourself and your addiction, and delivered an almighty kick in my face with your words....I felt numb. I felt detached from myself. I felt pathetic and stupid. I felt scared and angry. I felt cheated and hurt. I felt sick to the stomach. I felt completely worthless and selfish. I felt a thunderous mix of emotions, the likes I've never felt before. But above all else....I felt completely numb.

You lied to me on Sunday night. And I discovered that you'd lied to me before, many, many times. I told you last night that I could understand why, but tonight, the more time I've had to think about it....The more time I've had to think back over the last few weeks and months, the pieces have been slotting into place and I'm left feeling really stupid for not realising it before. But then....I've always trusted you on your words. Last night, you took all that trust, scrunched it up in a ball, fuelled it with deceit and words that meant nothing, and set fire to it until there was nothing left but cinders and ash.

I simply don't understand what it's like to be addicted to heroin. I don't know enough about that drug to understand what drives the addiction, how it makes you feel, why you would risk so much to feed your habit, not to mention how somebody like you could be smoking that shit!? I've been reading up on it tonight....what the effects are, what it does to your body and brain, how addictive it can be, how difficult it is to come off, how it takes over and destroys lives, how easy it is to relapse - no matter how much one wants to come off it, and it's been scaring the shit out of me.
I'm not a prude. I'm no saint. You know that I've dabbled with various drugs in my past, but I've never touched anything like that. In fact, I've always been damning of those types of drugs, speaking of how I've lost friendships to shit like coke, heroin, ketamine and the likes. And while we sat there talking about how I thought people who got hooked on those sorts of drugs had basically written off their lives, and potentially their relationships with friends and loved one's, you sat there and agreed with every fucking word I said. In fact, you made a point of telling me how harmful smoking weed was, knowing that I still used to do it myself on rare occasions. You fucking hypocrite!

I think you're unbelievably brave for opening up and admitting it to me last night. Of that, there's no question or doubt in my mind. And the fact that for that week away, you had checked into a detox clinic and had an implant inserted under your skin to rid you of this horrible thing is not only completely admirable and a step in the right direction, but also shows that you are serious about kicking this. Is that enough though?! And once again, this is where I feel totally selfish, but I can't help feeling that because you have destroyed all the trust we'd built up, can I really trust you and believe in you?! I want to. I truly do. I don't want to turn my back on you, I really don't. But, I can't begin to trust you again unless you are totally and utterly open and honest with me. And that's in your hands.

You wanted a few days of space, peace and silence. I gave you that. I am asking for the same.
What I've written here is my way of venting my thoughts, my frustrations and wringing out the emotional baggage that's all but drowning me. But I've hidden none of it from you. Everything here, and more, is what we've just spoken about on the phone. I needed you to listen, painful as it may have been for you to hear it. I can easily come back and edit or simply delete this post, particularly if I come back and realize it was all written with frustration, angst or as an immediate reaction. But I wanted you to hear how I feel about it, right now.


I'm sorry.

Strength and courage overrides the privileged and weary eyes of river poet search naivete. Pick up here and chase the ride.The river empties to the tide. All of this is coming your way .

It's difficult to look forward with positivity, the ominous news of my Uncle's terminal condition is casting dark cloud over all of the family here.
Trying, trying, trying not to allow it hang over me too much, but my parents gloominess is difficult, bleak and affecting. Naturally.

Attempting to push all my senses and focus on restoring the house into some sort of habitable state.

No more mention of the doom, the gloom and the inevitable.
Pushing forward with the new, the fresh and the opportunities.

Pick up my guitar and play. Just like yesterday. Then I'll get on my knees and pray. We don't get fooled again.

Christmas day I find out....
My niece was proposed to.
My Uncle in America is told his cancer has spread and is now terminal.

Pfffft.

Be my friend. Hold me. Wrap me up. Unfold me. I am small. And needy. Warm me up. And breathe me.

I can't seem to keep up with blogs anymore. Not meaning that the blogs that I like to dip into every now and then post so much stuff that I fall behind or get lost. I mean, very often lately when I follow a link from this blog, the writer has either stopped posting, or the blog had been deleted. Even the ones I don't link from here, but keep in my bookmarks have been disappearing slowly.
And once, when I would click away at links from other people's blogs, or just surf around, I would often stumble upon other people's little spaces that would catch my attention. I'd bookmark it, sometimes link it, sometimes comment.... But now....Now there just seems to be a huge reduction.
Of course FaceFuck and Twatter have done a great job shovelling the earth on top of the blogger's coffin. But I find it such a shame, because even though I do FaceFuck, it's just not the same. On there, I have to be so much more like me. And I much prefer being the anonymous me.

Blogging....It's dying.

I'm in the darkest place, I think I've ever been. You can see from the scars on my face, I'm not where I'm supposed to be.

Wow!
Loads has been happening, it's hard to know where to begin.

I guess the most important thing is that after the New Year, I will have my own space back. It's taken a very long time, it's cost me a lot of money and it's been gruelling and stressful, but finally those wankers who were digging their heels in whilst living rent free in my house have finally been turfed out.
I wouldn't wish anybody else to have to go through what I've just been through, but still, that part of it is over now. Now begins a lengthy and once again very costly exercise to attempt to recover some of my outstanding money; from rent arrears, damage to the house, stolen furniture, legal costs, court costs etc etc etc. Sheesh! But at least I can now concentrate on sorting my shit out, in order to get back into my own space, whether it's that house or somewhere else.

For the past few years, some of my Bloggy friends have enjoyed compiling, discussing, comparing and swapping lists of top ten albums of the year gone by. This year is no different.
So head over to The Auditorium to see what our top ten albums of 2010 have been, in a countdown stylee.

I never was a sinner or a saint. We fight between the colours, now checkmate. We all have two decisions, mark the date. And you must make your choice before it's too late.

I appear to have adopted a kitten. He's now eleven weeks old and totally adorable, even though he has some strange habits, including an odd fascination with my toes and a tendency to like to sleep under the bed covers with just his head poking out.
I named him Dexter.

Over the last few months; I've been organising gigs, co-producing and mixing tracks in a recording studio and found myself managing an up and coming band.
Who would have thought!?

Things have changed. Things have moved forward. Things are very different.
And it's just the tip of the iceberg.

You said something, you said something stupid like; love steals us from loneliness.

I'm considering adopting a kitten.

I know what I like and I like what I know. Getting better in your wardrbobe, stepping one beyond your show.

I'm all about left, all about four and all about green.
I'm all about Free Trade, all about tattoos and all about Marlboro Lights.
I'm all about boxers, all about Damien Rice and all about red wine.
I'm all about coffee, all about scented candles and all about brunettes.
I'm all about scars, all about cats and all about Johnny Depp.
I'm all about recycling, all about weed and all about independence.
I'm all about strings, all about curing cancer and all about Weetabix.
I'm all about lyrics, all about cheese-on-toast and all about watching movies where they belong; at the cinema.
I'm all about washing your hands, all about skirts and all about live concerts.
I'm all about glasses, all about freedom of speech and all about tulips.
I'm all about jeans, all about artistic talent and all about the Hammond Organ.
I'm all about horror movies, all about black & white pictures and all about long hair.

I'm all about music, all about music and all about music.

God bless us, everyone. We're a broken people living under loaded gun. And it can't be out-fought. It can't be out-done. It can't be out-matched,. It can't be out-run.

People I'd like to share a spliff with:

In no particular order....

Stan Laurel.
I'd like to tell him how much I love Laurel & Hardy movies. And how they helped me through a tough childhood.

Quentin Tarantino.
I'd like to ask him for a cameo in his next movie.

Damien Rice.
I'd like to ask him who she is.

Drew Barrymore.
I'd like to ask if I could do the music supervision on her next project.

Johnny Depp.
'Cos he's cool as fuck.

Howard Marks.
To listen to more of his fabulous stories.

Danny MacNamara.
I'd like to convince him to get the band back together.

Bruce Forsyth.
To see if he was still funny.

Zach Braff.
To just talk somethin' and nothin'.

The guy who created Chocolate Hobnobs.
And I'd shake that man's hand.

Angelina Jolie.
If I'm honest, to hopefully get into her knickers.

Robert Plant.
To thank him, for everything he's done and is still doing.

Robbie Williams, Kate Winslett, Dr Dre, Russell Brand, Lee Evans, John Cusack, Britney Spears, Foghorn Leghorn, McLovin, the Chief Of Police, Elbow, Al Pacino....Thom Yorke........my high school art teacher............Ziggy Stardust............Tom Baker....

Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again, today. And the worst part is, there's no-one else to blame.

Sat in my room now, reflecting on the day.
Spent the best part of six hours drinking coffee and talking about my previous failed relationships.
I concluded that I'm obviously a difficult person to 'be with'.
She concluded that my experiences have made me the person I am today; over protective, guarded and difficult.

And then she told me to never give up.

The guy I like is married, He showed me the ring on his Thursday finger.

The girl who works in accounts doesn't seem to have any idea that the guy who works in the fleet department sleeps around on his wife. I think I heard him talking about tenth wedding anniversary plans. She seems to have no idea about him. Or maybe she chooses to ignore it. Either way, it makes me feel really sad to see it so close up.

On the second week I was there, I had the girl who works on reception wrapping her arms around me and sobbing her little heart out. A friend of hers was on a life support machine and that was the day they were turning it off.

Last week, the girl who works on the other reception desk was telling me about how she ended up throwing her husband of 25 years out. A guy came into work one day, sat down in front of her and proceeded to inform her that her husband was having an affair. Not with this guy's partner, but with the wife of a guy who works for him. And apparently, this guy said he told her not because of the moral reason, but because it was now affecting his work. And he held a very important role which simply couldn't be allowed to slip. So she confronted her husband, he admitted it, she kicked him out, he went to stay with his parents, then got a rented flat with this other girl he was having the affair with (who presumably got treated the same by her partner), split up with her after less than a month together, then she took him back in. Crazy.

They play stupid pranks at work. The latest I heard about today, was another department Manager complaining about having a horrible smell in his office for hours, and tracing it to an opened can of sardines in the depths of his drawer.

All the guys at work fancy the receptionist and the girl in accounts, except obviously her husband; the guy who works in fleet.

We can, and do, play any music we want in the showroom. The music all comes from a laptop in the office. I checked the folder the other day; it was reading over 60 Gig. Now that's a lot of music. It can be as random as hearing Frank Sinatra, followed by The Pussycat Dolls, followed by INXS, followed by Led Zeppelin, followed by Barbra Streisand, then killed off by those cheeky little monkeys from Glee. Which is a fabulous show!

I take my own Decaf coffee in, which I keep in my drawer. My desk is anally tidy. I have a small plant on my desk, which the others find amusing. The others are pretty shit. Well, ok, maybe that's a little harsh, but they seriously don't know how to earn themselves more money by putting in just a tiny bit more effort.

Lot's of quirky characters.
Kinda like it here.

Just close your eyes, and count to five. Let's craft the only thing we've known, into surprise.

Not very exciting at work today, but I left a couple of hours early and managed to do something I've been planning to for ages. I've had to be thorough, strategic and well planned.
Feeling bloody good tonight.

Also feels quite creepy being alone in the house tonight.

Chasing the dream, no I never pick up the pen. Always a show, but I like it when we pretend.

It feels weird thinking that this place is coming to an end, but it feels kind of natural.
Since I started blogging here, back in 2005, my journey has crossed paths with many, many wonderful fellow bloggers. Some still blog, although not as regularly as they once did. Many said their goodbyes in delightful ways, moving on with their lives. Some just....disappeared, without so much as a kiss my arse. And of course, some moved with the times and migrated to Facebook and/or Twitter.

I've crossed paths with some amazing people along the way. And whilst being adamant that I wanted to keep myself anonymous, politely refusing blog-meets and the like, I've met a handful of bloggers in 'real life'. Tonight feels like an appropriate time to reflect, and to cast out a shower of sincere "thank yous" to everybody who has touched my life in some way via someguyonajourney, even though sadly it will go unnoticed and unread by some simply wonderful people. So I shall just sit here pretending that somehow....they will know.

Buried beneath the ramblings, the rants, the raw and the ever present cryptic writing, lies a guy who just wanted to use this place to try to understand a little bit more about himself.

Clearly I remember, from the windows they were watching, while we froze down below.

Big Brother has come to an end.
After ten years of dedicated viewing, for me, summertime will never be the same again.

Over the years, I've felt a huge variety of emotions. I've chuckled, I've laughed, I've cried and cringed. I've been shocked, been flabbergasted, been frustrated and been angry. I've felt pleased, felt all warm and cuddly, felt grossed out and felt humble. All the emotional bases have been covered many, many times.
The hundreds of Housemates have provided hour upon hour of entertainment. They've been outrageous, rude, crude, angry, disgusting, vile, comical, funny, boring, camp, ridiculous, smarmy, creepy, bitchy, loving, stupid, silly, smart, clever, game-playing and so, so much more.

No other TV show has given me the chance to watch people do such a vast array of weird and wonderful, crazy and fucked-up, even boring and monotonous things. There's been kissing, fighting, punching, kicking, smooching, vomiting, dancing, fucking, discriminating, masturbating, shouting, screaming, spitting, threatening, bullying, flirting, flashing, tears, tantrums and an abundance of nakedness and nudity. It's been ten years of cocks, lady-gardens, tits and arse!

I've loved, loved, loved it.
I've learnt so much about people, about life, about living, about soooo many things.
It's been the most amazing, riveting, enjoyable and fucked-up roller coaster ride.

Of course, there's a possibility that another TV channel buys the rights to continue with the show, but in my eyes it will never be the same.
So, as with all good things, it has come to an end.

Thank you Big Brother.
Thank you for satisfying my obvious voyeuristic tendencies and providing me with hours and hours of brilliant entertainment.
And of course my summers wouldn't have been the same without the yummy Davina McCall. Love you Davina xx. Not forgetting kudos to George Lamb and of course the über sexy Dermot O'Leary. Shwing!

"Big Brother, you have been evicted. I'm coming to get you."

I never walked near the edge. Used to fear falling. I never swam far from shore. Never tried the secret door.

For the last ten days, my folks have been in America.
My Uncle has been suffering with a 'sore throat' since the back end of last year. At least, that's what we'd been led to believe. Several weeks ago, he went to see a doctor/specialist/consultant for said sore throat and hasn't been out of hospital since. In fact, most of the time he's been in intensive care, or whatever they call it in America.
He lives alone. His nearest family; his daughter, lives about forty miles away from him. She was diagnosed with lung cancer about three weeks before he went to see his doctor and has been receiving chemotherapy since.

Since news reached us that my Uncle was diagnosed with throat cancer, which was when a doctor phoned my Nan (listed as his next of kin) to ask permission to perform an operation on him, the house here has been in disarray. My Nan has been beside herself. My Mum has been desperately trying to speak to somebody in the hospital; a nurse, a doctor, a specialist, a consultant, who would give us some straight answers. Frustratingly, it's been a string of inconsistent information, ranging from; "He's doing much better", to "He's been in a coma since the doctors tried to put a tube down his throat", to "We think he'll be well enough to be discharged soon", to "It looks like he suffered a stroke or possibly a heart attack when he stopped breathing on the operating table", to "I'm sorry, we can't tell you anything because we don't know ourselves".

I've spoken to my Mum several times since she, my Dad and my Nan rushed over there ten days ago. They were hoping by now he would have been well enough to be back at his own house, receiving his treatment. Unfortunately, it's not the case.
His condition sounds advanced. He is weak. Each time the doctors plan to perform an operation; mostly to do with inserting tubes here, there and everywhere, his condition worsens. We're informed he is too weak to 'go on the table'. As a consequence, there are still some tests and 'things' the doctors need to do, but of course they wont until he is stable enough to have a fighting chance of coming out of the anesthetic.

A phone call from my Mum yesterday updated me with the latest on his condition. He has been much more stable the previous two days and the hospital staff are hopeful that he can be taken off the equipment that's helping him to breathe. Hopefully, with a more stable condition, they can continue with the tests, the tube insertions and finally start his treatment. Unless, of course, these test results say that treatment is pointless.

I'm going down, I don't want to change. I'm going down, going down the drain.

Don't keep asking me the same thing over and over and over.
Each time you ask, my answer loses more and more feeling.
And you can hear it in my voice. I know you can.
I begin to begrudge the question, whilst you begin to doubt my integrity.

Not only does it get us nowhere; it chips away, it pulls apart and begins to dissolve our relationship.

You're asking me to be something I'm not capable of.
Asking me to be a person I cannot be.
Don't want to be.

I am not what you're looking for.

Taking the second plan. Begging to understand. Life of a selfless man.

There's been some fantastic music around lately. I'm loving this years groove, so far.

Currently loving Bombay Bicycle Club; both albums, but the acoustic one in particular, Eliza Doolittle, Paloma Faith, The Foals, The xx (brilliant album), Arcade Fire, Mumford & Sons, Goldfrapp, Plan B, Katie Melua and still, still loving Biffy Clyro's latest.

Now your back's to the road. Waiting's everything you know. I'm sure know that I'm leaving.

She brushed his hand in bed that night, but she didn't mean it. If he'd have been awake, she would have apologized.
But there was never any need.
She'd already made up her mind.

Dressed me up in womens' clothes, messed around with gender roles. Line my eyes and call me pretty.

So, I've changed jobs. So far, I like it.
On my first day, I had to fill in the usual forms. When it came to the 'optional' equal opportunities form, I was quite happy ticking away at the boxes until I came across the section about sexual orientation. I can understand company's wanting to 'measure' their own staffing, whilst also showing they don't discriminate, but I was a little taken aback over what I felt was a very personal question. But, after thinking about it for a while, I guess some people are completely happy disclosing their sexual preferences and yet aren't as happy stating their religion, for example.
There was a box for "Prefer not to say", but I drew a new tick box and labelled it 'Metrosexual', just to see if anybody commented on it.
Nothing yet.

I know there's a million people like me. I'm sure a kick up the bum's all we need. We plan but it never comes true. All I need is somebody like you.

Some things that happened over the music festival weekend:

I got pulled to one side and searched by two coppers, in the market area. It's my own bloody fault. It was Friday night, the atmosphere was electric, and I stupidly lit up whilst strolling through the market stalls. They searched me, found another spliff, then pulled me out of ear-shot and told me enjoy myself, by all means, but not to light up and flaunt it in front of people. Point taken. My bad.

My brother passed out during Plan B's final song. I heard a thud, turned around and found him spread out on the floor. He was fine afterwards. Nothing a few bottles of water, some vomiting and an hour chilling out can't solve.

The lead guy with The Prodigy scared the shit out of me.

I put up somebody's tent. I couldn't sit there and watch them struggle any longer, it was painful.

A girl wrote her phone number on my arm because she loved my tattoo so much.

The pork and stuffing baguettes were particularly nice.

The toilets were fucking awful.

I remember seeing; Batman, Spiderman, Robin, Wolverine, Superman, Wonder Woman, nuns, bridal parties, scouts, girl guides, cavemen, aristocrats, leopards, lions, tigers, bananas, dogs, cats, bunnys, robots, star trekkers, Lord Of The Rings characters, bunny girls, bunny guys, the list goes on and on.

Flip flops were the guy's choice, denim shorts were the girl's.

I made a mahoosive fuck up, choosing to stay with the crowd and see The Stereophonics, instead of seeing Ellie Goulding and more importantly Florence & The Machine. I've seen The 'Phonics many times before, and for me, they've kinda peaked. I knew I wouldn't get anything 'new' out of seeing them, but still I followed the crowd. What a fucking pussy. I wont ever do that again.

The garden candles were a genius idea.

Kit Kat chunky can save your life at 3am.

I always have my faith restored in people when I go to a music festival. You meet some of the nicest, weirdest, quirkiest, generous, odd, goofball, funny, loveliest people you would never normally have the opportunity to meet. It's amazing, and the feelings I get when I'm surrounded by these people could never be put down in words.

Being woken up by a girl singing "Morning has broken" in her loudest 'out of tune' voice at 6am, after three hours sleep, does not a happy bedshaped make.

"Sex on fire" was ammmmmazing!

I made a good trade off, when I agreed to pitch an extra tent for people arriving later on the Friday, in exchange for them cooking bacon sarnies every morning. It was a completely winning deal! Nom nom nom.

People will offer you all sorts of shit while you're in amongst the crowds; coke, ketamine, mdma, weed, poppers, tabs.... Just say no kids! Don't ever accept anything from people you don't know. No matter how much you may be connecting with them at that point in time. I gave a guy a bite of my apple, he offered me some pills!

Cheap blow up beds from Tesco are rubbish, repeat, they are rubbish!

There's just not enough time during the weekend, during each day, to see all, or even most of what you wanna see. There will be stage time clashes, essential chill out time, and secret stuff going on all the time. But so long as you finish that weekend feeling like you've experienced something very special, then that's all that matters.

I Am Weasel!

Got God on the drums, and The Devil on the bass. If you wanna dance, you'd better find a space.

Artists/Bands I got to see at VFest:

Kings of Leon, Stereophonics, Paul Weller, Editors, Feeder, Paloma Faith, The Divine Comedy (solo), The Magic Numbers, Robyn, Eliza Doolittle, Kirsty Almeida, The boy who trapped the sun, La Roux, The Prodigy, Shed Seven, Plan B, Faithless, The Kooks, Paolo Nutini, Skunk Anansie, Pixie Lott.

Artists/Bands I really wanted to see, but didn't:

Florence & the Machine, White Lies, Ellie, Goulding, Imogen Heap, Goldfrapp, Doves, Jamie T.

We are a lullaby, an ever-lasting song. Taken as prisoners, to a place where we belong. If the tune stops, I will not wait. Without us, I'm no-one. My soul swells and aches.

I survived.
Just about.
And even now, almost five days later, I'm only just beginning to feel 'normal'.

While I was away, I fell in love with a girl.
She is amazing. I love everything about her.
Funny, cute, imaginative, quirky, experimental, possibly a little un-hinged, honest, personal, frank, open, interesting. Long red hair, lovely eyes, wonderfully curvy, gorgeous voice, great fashion sense, artistic.

We're seeing each other again just before my birthday, early November.
Cant      Wait.

Join our group and you will find, harmony and peace of mind, Make it better. We're here to welcome you.

Back in four days.
Approximately.

The music is calling me.
x

Some people hide in their life. Some people need more than a slice.

There's a terrible lack of great movies around lately.
Three most memorable movies for me, of late; Inception, Shutter Island - much better second time around, and Kick Ass - has miles left in it.

New, original stuff needed. Stat.

A five and a pocket full of silver, I paid the lady no change. and then it started to piss down, I started driving again .

So, I'm officially 'between jobs'. And when I say between jobs, what I mean is, I worked my last day today and haven't got a start day for a new job yet. In fact, I've not had an offer in writing or signed anything. I could have fucked up there, but hey, I feel okies about it.
I need to to ring the new place tomorrow, to make arrangements for a start date, but more importantly, to arrange getting a car off them. Otherwise I have four passengers with me for VFestival and no way of getting us there.
The hiccup with the extra ticket has now been resolved and there's a funky team of us going. The one person who was supposed to come has left me in a bit of a downer, if I'm honest, but I'm determined to let it affect me in absolute minimal ways.

I'm feeling more excited about just being there, than seeing any particular bands or artists. And that feels weird. As if I've perhaps 'moved on'. Maybe I'll have more of an answer to that when I return.
One thing I do know, is that I ate some chicken yesterday which hasn't exactly agreed with me, and I do not want to be contemplating a weekend music festival with an upset stomach.

You turned into another. You turned into nutter. You turned into another man.

Is it possible to know another person, inside out, upside down?
You may be able to finish their sentences, but could that be put down to a more 'routine' element.
And would you ever want to know a person that much? Would that create a very balanced sense of peace in your life, or would it be a catalyst for fear. Fear that there's nothing else to live for?

Sometimes when it rains, there's a rainbow. Sometimes in the dark, if we reach out. Behind every shadow, there's light.

Thank you,
You have no idea....
x

Send a question in the wind. It's hard to know where to begin. So send the question in the wind. And give an answer to a friend.

I'm sat here wondering who's telephone number I would give, in case something happened and it was like an emergency call.

Four weeks ago, we were told that my cousin has lung cancer.
Last week, we were told my uncle, her dad, has throat cancer.

If I wish for one thing to 'happen' in my lifetime; I don't care about time-travel, flying cars or virtual worlds....I'd wish for a cure to be found for cancer. Or even better, a preventative measure or medicine. Surely we can't be too far away from preventing and curing this fucking awful, awful disease.

Because I'm missing, Can you find me? I can't afford a big reward, but baby I'm reliable.

So things have changed once again.
I need to study the debris, and find a way to piece it back together.
But I feel challenged.
Motivated.
Positive.
And strong.

I quit my job yesterday.
Spontaneity is my friend.
And also a difficult word to spell.

Inside the finest little space. And the slightest sound just makes you wanna close your eyes, and hold your breath.

I'm an easy target, a pushover, a sure-fire crumbler.
Go on, take advantage of me. And even though I'm clearly not in the wrong, you will always manage to make me feel like I've done wrong.
And your goal? To make me feel like utter shit.
Congratulations, you can sleep easy.

'Cos the joke that you laid in the bed, that was me, and I'm not gonna fade as soon as you close your eyes, and you know it.

You may be tempted by the understanding of Damien Rice, the movement of Radiohead, the depth of Tori, the emotion of Natalie.... And of course many, many others could be substituted here. But nothing,  nothing makes you feel better after a break up than Alanis.

There goes my last temptation. She moves with a sweet consideration. And I'll hope you don't miss it, now it all is gone.

What happened to all the beautiful people?
Their make up has run, their shells have peeled back.
Backstabbed their defences, gone on the attack.

What happened to all those promising words?
Pursed on those lips, delivered with ease.
Covered with venom, full of disease.

I'm high, but I'm grounded. I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed. I'm lost, but I'm hopeful, baby.

So now, I'm kinda left with an extra ticket for Vfestival.
Which is in less than two weeks.
But I'm ok about it.

I'm not sure where I'm headed, I've gotten lost before. I've woke up stone drunk on the floor.

She promised me. She looked me in the eye and promised me that she wouldn't leave. Leaving, meaning she would be getting into her car and driving twenty odd miles whilst way, way over the drink drive limit.
But despite me managing to stop her a few times until she crumbled on the bed, repeating how much of a dick she thinks she's been. And despite me thinking, "thank fuck for that", after she'd finally fallen asleep. And despite countless conversations ending with her saying she wasn't going anywhere....
She woke up while I had drifted off to sleep, and left. No, not left....fucked off, jumped ship, done one, snuck out.... A text message from her gives me the impression she left here about an hour after she fell asleep. Or at least I thought she was asleep. Way over the drink limit for driving. I wouldn't say she was drunk, I'd say she was pissed.
She was fucking horrible during most of the evening. I could feel myself getting anxious and scared, because I really had no idea how she was gonna react next. She'd already done and said things I would never had expected her to, so my imagination started to wonder; is she gonna get violent, is she gonna start smashing things up, throwing things around, is she gonna come at me with some kind of weapon.
She knows how I feel about drunk drivers, not just for their own safety, but mostly for the safety of others on their journey. Obviously not giving a toss about knowing she was over the limit, obviously not giving a second thought that she broke her promise, that she thinks so little of trust, so little of truth.

It wasn't the first time, but it was the last.

All the gold and the girls in the world couldn't get you off.

Many people's expectations have changed.
There just seems to be an apathy and aloofness from most people, and I can't help but feel like they're short-changing themselves.
And yet, when I live my life without dropping my own standards and expectations, I'm left with a bitter taste in my mouth and most other people just shrugging their shoulders.

The whole thing just stinks of animosity.

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.