Yes, chums... I like the word I'm bringing it back. I have just come back from seeing Shutter Island and require some kind of need to prove that I'm not completely insane to myself so I'm writing a bit on my long suffering blog that has been somewhat neglected of late.
So yes... I'm rejecting any kind of idea that I'm insane and living in a world of my own devising, well yes I have devised some parts of my world, most likely the part of it when I work as a top philosophical correspondent genius poet etc. but at least I"m not consistently going to a creepy, dark, Hitchcocky, Nazi, lobotomising island. I hope.
Recently I have been rather busy doing things that may not appear to be a huge amount of excitement but it is quite busy doing nothing. I feel that I ought to spend some time out of work constantly doing anything but work. If that makes little or no sense than fine, be like that, but one day perhaps you shall sit in a cold, (yet strangely stifling) boxy room full of munchkins and evil managers singing adverts (Go Compare sung at full volume in a broad accent of some description and followed by a raucous bulldog laugh is not something I would recommend as exciting listening material-if anybody ever changed their ringtone anymore then that would be on par with those comedic ones that still futilely linger upon our screens that nobody pays attention to. I mean how, without radium or radiographic or something glowy, is one able to x-ray your own hand with a phone? One day there'll be no queue's for NHS resources to get x-rays when all we have to do is head to Carphone Warehouse and it'll all be ace)
I've been given more work, true, I do often complain about having little to do, but being given more work that is somewhat pointless, makes it even more pointless in some roundabout way. So, like I said, I've been busy doing everything else; trips to Londres, trips to Margate and it's finest seashores (and gorgeously tweed clad waitered fish restaurants... with some Prosecco and some chavvy boys... and the best company of lovely people)..um yes it was also Easter, the day our lord, or somebody's lord, as Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine according to Patti Smith (or Them.. can't remember which) yes sidetracked, the day he died and rose or some such story. As you can tell my secular upbringing has not been massively infiltrated by Christianity yet somehow I still feel guilt hehe.. not really Catholic Guilt though. I don't know what God exists but it's not bloody their one is it?
I have spent a rather luxurious weekend at home, I did indeed have a long time when I wasn't at home for the last few weekends. but a nice barbeque, Moroccan dinners and a bit of a pizzapalooza I've had a lovely week... too much mojito, too much Pimms, and a nice burger.. But I've felt somewhat abandoned I must say, mostly as seeing family and then not seeing them makes me feel somewhat lost. I read an Ask Mariella about a girl who was 22 and lost in the world. yes, she did have a traumatic accident and a family who were odd but you know I kinda feel empathy. I say kinda... I have yet to redeem myself from the crazy feeling that I'm not heading anywhere and that if I followed my feet on the desperate wish I have to just piss off somewhere else nobody would notice (possibly not true... the list pile would build up at work... and I do, despite other elements of silliness have lots of lovely friends) but I feel the need to make some kind of grand gesture of excitement in my life.. run away to Paris and live in a flat of the Champs Elysees and learn to smoke without coughing, drink whiskey and read my copy of Fear of Flying (that I've nicked off a friend) on the Rive Gauche..
it upsets me greatly that the likes of Cheryl Cole are held in highest regard when all she does is faff about making ironic "no comments" comments to Heat magazine or even worse making actual comments about life and what we should do with ourselves. Why do they have any greater knowledge of life than "normal" people?
hmm this is rather a mish mash isn't it? and perhaps negating the original intent to prove I still had some semblance of sanity in my silly little brain.. it's just a bit sad not having one person in the world who can't live without me. but this is neither the time nor the place to expel all kinds of cathartic messages about life and love. I am channelling my love into other things, into being patient and kind and not being a massive judgemental twat but I think I'm failing in that. Instead I'm being critical and off the cuff (?). and artistically temperamental. I've been painting, again mostly nudes, and writing some ranty poetry. Reading Fear of Flying is strangely cathartic as well to be honest. I feel that it's somewhat cliched to say that I totally or at least think I do, understand it. and feel it and worry about it. I stare at men on the bus and think about them naked, searching for a zipless fuck but wanting to be loved. I fall in love with men in books ( ironically I'm a little in love with both Bennett and Adrian already-Adrian less so as he sounds rather egocentric) but I'm maybe contemplating even more the idea that men are scared of stronger women? This can't be true? if so I'm taking any bisexual tendencies I have, which admittedly is some, I'm leaning that way baby...
I will write more on this theory at some point as right now I feel I'm writing about it for the sake of writing when really I want to get onto the gig I went to last night.
Robyn Hitchcock, former lead singer of the rather excellent Soft Boys, played a lovely solo gig at the academy in town. Admittedly it was quiet and a quite subdued affair, with muso geeks (mostly 35yr old men and their girlfriends) nodding and whooping. He flipped his hair, he talked nonsense about Ants (how we envy the ants.. how we think about the ants.. reminding me of some kind of incident that happened in a friend's childhood... ) about Antwoman... (who was strangely stripy- I've never seen a stripy lady-ant).. he came on stage to join in on some humming with Mark Heron, formerly of the Incredible String Band, and his family band... wearing a very American Apparel-ish Purple muted leopard print shirt and a cup of tea.. I can't for the life of me remember everything he uttered but it was the most divine nonsense and I thoroughly enjoyed it.. I was perched on the edge of a ledge, on my own and not caring about that as most people seemed to be and I'm comfortable in my existence to spend time alone..) and stared at the rather lovely looking young man across from me leaning on a pillar as if it was propping up what little self assurance he had left and gradually getting straighter and straighter throughout the performance...he sang seashanties and stories and delightfully matched his guitar to his shirt (purposefully one would have to assume but either way it was bloody ace) I can't decide if I'm glad he didn't play some of my favourite songs or not as it might have meant I'd become the way I do when something lovely happens and I worry I'll forget about it or stop feeling about it.. but he did play Soft Boys bizarre rambling Insanely Jealous.. one of my favourite songs about copulation and green eyed madness... I am insanely jealous of the spiders in your bath.. and frankly the lyrics of all his songs make me so ridiculously happy that I can barely explain it.
I'll write more about it when I am able to put the pictures up so instead here's one video for you..
as you can tell I've mostly been Knitting: a scarf I started as a present for last Christmas for a young man who deserves plenty of scarves from me as I've attempted theft of his many a time.
eaten: food that has made my kitchen heat alarm go off at all hours and Moroccan lamb with balsamic braised shallots and mushrooms with dried fruit (bung it all together with some olives and sesame seeds yum) and the lamb was covered in turmeric, paprika, honey, olive oil and sesame seeds.. and plenty of pepper. Homemade houmous and a lot of banofee pie (which I wasn't overly impressed with but pie, toffee sauce and cream and banana.. how can u got totally wrong?)
Reading: Fear of Flying and attempting to read upcoming election manifestoes... hmmmm... this is another topic I'll hit on but believe me as a work colleague joked about running for MP I wept for the future.. I'm in a tad sticky situation.. two I definitely can't vote for but then feeling of a wasted vote.. never.. and the brochure for the Hay festival.. woo hoo! If any literary heroes/heroines are met believe me there will be some namedropping, possibly fake credentials and a job as Marr's righthandwoman.. ooh yes!
anyway.. listening to: attempting to download things by people playing at Sound city in the next few weeks (and looking into Indietracks line up hurrah), Robyn Hitchcock's album "I often Dream of Trains" which I was bitterly disappointed he didn't play (that was one of the ones I'd like to have heard)
and Prince's "Little Red Corvette"- On repeat.Fucking. Incredible. Song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5mgRFSCDO8 (there was copyright on the video on youtube I'm afraid.. but find it.. listen to the horsey song.. BABY HAVE YOU GOT ENOUGH GAS?)
So a video or two for you and then bed.. ok that's a lie I'm going to go and watch Heston Blumenthal's fairytale feast in bed...xxxxx
(oh and this is the guitar/shirt combo I was talking about.. it's true though. I do often dream of trains... and think about them.. I sit upon them and dream.. and remember.. of Basingstoke or Reading.. out in the corridor.... the sun sets at 4 o clock..exactly what I'm dreading...
I have no other words to describe how amazingly odd and silly this song makes me feel and I suppose I shouldn't try....but it's somewhat scary inside. x
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