Young blood? on somebody's hands....

Well once again I find ridiculous affinity in a song that was probably written for a mass market of lost souls who all feel individually and uniquely the same morose silliness... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdO85Qf4Pocbut still here we go as it's true we ARE all young and naive still We require certain skill.. Yup we all do. So once again I start my blog that is usually born in some kind of malaise or other. I'm not going to be all misery guts... I live where the trains sleep, I still find things interesting. That's nice. but once again I float along in a world of not feeling fulfilled. One goes to the gym merely as a distraction, a vent for frustration, both sexual and boredom. I am rivalling the ennui of the English Opium Eater. Only my diaries contain less opium, more wine. So I go to the gym and blast some guns into oblivion and become the cliche. I have no 1. Cat, 2. lover 3. Wine (today) 4. particular life goal except to change what I'm doing.. I have broken out and I'm almost certain I'm the only one rowing to Joy Division so that's a good start... No life at all in the house of dolls.. No love lost eh no love lost...? or fall back in love eventually.. I must admit I've been spoilt and finding someone interesting to talk to amidst the streets seems futile. it's bizarre how many a person is scared of a Velvet Underground obsessive with a penchant for the word cunt. We are a dying breed non?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QiyXjv1aaf8

I am aware of the irony of what I may be about to write but having spent many an hour ambling around and listening to the delightful conversation between Jarvis and Adam Curtis on 6music about computers and their maddening influence on the world it's like re-attempting-reading The Diceman.. a depressing and somewhat scary experience that makes one put the book down, or in this case the computer, and walk slowly away avoiding eye contact. This has indicated to me how static the world can become it's been on my mind for the last few days now and every conversation i've had regarding it seems to be on a computer. This cultish near necessity is scary and writing it on a blog makes it seem even more ridiculous. There is a habit I have, I think of amazing insightful things to write, I think of loads of things I want for my birthday and Christmas and then boom gone. I was walking under my pigeon bridge delighting in the amazing aggressive post punk feminism of Those Darlins. Deliberating why the boys who you want as your bro don't treat you that way and those who do make you feel like a potentially incestuous strumpet. I just wanna roll and play in the dirt with you and you just wanna stick it in. That is something that makes me want to flee my town and make it to San Fran or Washington and start a new revolution. It's coming, at least something ought to be, hard and fast. I've spent weeks eyeing up young, old, men, women everybody undressing them with luckily just my eyes, but there will be pouncing and the pouncing will turn to a taking. A tying up and a thrashing..? I look into their faces with sunglasses on and hear fucking music in my head. Music to fuck girls by... music to be taken roughly by.. oh dear if this doth persist this blog, sporadic as it is, will eventually become a long overdrawn, writhing, wrenching, slapping, arse grabbing, whipping, jodphur wearing Jilly Cooper novel..set in the North West. Now that's an idea... only without a horsey set, Chester doesn't strike me as as much fun as the metropolitan sweat and lust of the inner city.. writhing and rubbing against the cobbled floors and brick walls. I keep wishing I had some kind of deep message to portray however, I do feel I could give an analytical and accurate portrayal of the youth and sex obsessed generation that I am but a victim of. The only other issue of this is that I fear I'm becoming selfish, not self absorbed as apparently that's what happens when one lives alone, but less inclined to do good for other members of humanity. This must be stopped as a loss of humility and altruism means the end of humanity in the soul, it's not gone yet and I'm sure it's just in hiding coming out for smaller things than just to one person.

The sexual ambiguity of turning 24 is somewhat annoying me. I was happy to be 23 and in the words of Blink 182 have nobody like me. I know secretly they did but sometimes, sensitive as I am, I enjoy being a stand offish bitch. This is why reaching the age of 24 has posed some questions about what is necessary for a woman to exist in this day and age, on her own, eating fish fingers, dancing in her pants, who doesn't take down her party bunting as it makes her feel like she's at a country fair in the 40s and listening to Dylan's birthday commemoration on 6music. God only knows. I'm going to seek to find, to not seek and then hopefully find by chance.

The pressure upon myself to say something elusive...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urRLqUGhWP0

As I work on my Beasties Boys esque sabotage of the western world whilst simultaneously attempting to form a Ronettes Sans Spector tribute band and marvelling at Michelle Obama I shall think too deeply, drink too deeply and potentially grow another year older before I complete my next blog. I think i should write to commemorate my passing into mid 20s... a carefully assessed analysis of the young and irresponsibly philosophical.

A bientot Cherie...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lwthVtaocc