The Decemberists - Los Angeles, I'm Yours

It should read London, I'm Yours.

Your humble narrator is off to Paris this weekend.

Im not so sure of my motivation for going, i do have a reason though. I've been invited to a party on a boat on the Seine on sunday.

It's a pretty formal party- i've been freting about the outfit, the shoes, the accessories for weeks.

I should be studying, but this weekend will be the weekend i get all outta my system. I can't wait. I have a schedule of things to see and just enough money to enjoy myself.

Im not sure how many shoes is too many for a weekend. Is 4 ok?

I need to pack, au revoir, see you on monday!

Sol's dead

He was never the same after the move.
I left it too late.
and i wasn't too good with the watering and sun exposure.
Im sorry i killed you.

The day floats by in the strong sunshine

I watch life pass like a movie.

There's the tonne of shiny colourful confetti in front of the courts of justice being whipped up by passing busses. The street sweeper is not sulking, yet.

The lady in the pastel skirt suit carrying an old fashion white boxy briefcase. Her baby blue eyeshadow frame her darting eyes. I wonder what's in the bag and who she's meeting at Half Moon street.

The gaggle of german school kids on a school trip. It was such a shy hello, such restrained curiosity. I could've been friendlier, but i was sunstroked by then.

The self-concious grin as a man caught me staring at him fixing his hair.

Friendly bus conductors and old school london busses ramble about east london. People sway as they make their way up the windy back stair and down the aisle.

The glare of the sun makes lines deeper, shadows darker and tar very-very soft. Bouncy even.

Im watching and waiting. I know no one's looking, but i want them to.

i dont think i'll make it in the arranged marriage circuit

Not that I'd want to

Random thoughts are...random.

I'll never make it because i photograph badly. And no one will fall in love with me through facebook. The shame, the dodgy photos. Worse, it's not my pictures so i cant get rid of them.

Buying sailor hats

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving”

I like that qoute. It's by Einstein.

Im gonna cycle down into town later. Need to get sailor doughboy hats and a cheap stripey t-shirt.

sun, fun and mild concussions

I looked for an opening in the fence, preferably without a potentially leg-breaking 6 foot drop. Someone had done me a favour and flexed the chain link fence in such a way it was at about stomach height where it was level with the ground. I put one knee on the fence and then the other knee on. Before i could realize, my weight shifted and flexible chain link fence gave way, tipping me forward, face first into the green grass and packed earth.

My forehead and nose hit the ground with an audible thunk and i passed out for about a second. When i opened my eyes- my glasses had fallen off and i was lying on my bag- thereby exploding a pot of yogurt that was in there.

My head spun and by God, it hurt! And i still had another fence to climb. The other fence was less of a challenge because the fence was bent to knee height. Managed that without slamming my face into the ground ran off to get changed and get rowing.

It was all for nothing.

One girl didnt show, so we couldnt make it out cos there was no one to replace her. To add insult in to injury, all my stuff was covered in budget low fat strawberry yogurt. It gets gross because the milk goes bad and my stuff starts smelling of old milk. At least there was sun and we munched on carrot sticks (courtesy of me) while we waited for the evil rail replacement bus.

I went home- head still thrumming away and my hearing doing funky things. I couldnt even watch tv, my brain wouldnt concentrate and the thrumming getting steadily louder in my head. I went to sleep for 4 hours that afternoon.

It was a good friend's birthday that evening, so i went out for drinks at Brick Lane. It was a good night out- the music and company pleasant as wine flowed. My hearing was still off- background noise was really loud, but i could not make out what people were saying to me. Lots of cigarettes and highly inappropriate talk about Chris Cornell, rock groupies and voyeurism later we decided to call it a night. Before heading home we went for beigels (hot bagels at 1 am post night out) which made a good night so much better.

Boys with long dreadlocks

I love boys with long dreadlocks. A shining example would be the lead singer of Shadows Fall, Brian Fair. His dreadlocks fall past his bum and when he headbangs it is something to see. They're a pretty decent heavy metal band, the first time i heard them was at the Download Festival. I was totally in awe of the hair.

And of course, the classic dreadlocked man, Bob Marley. His son Damian Marley has impressive dreadlocks too.

Bob

Damian

Blond dreadlocks are also fetching. A cute example is the lead guitarist of Tokio Hotel, Tom Kaulitz. He's very pretty for a boy, and he's got an identical twin named Bill who has emo hair (that can be very big at times). This is all true, even down to the names. The music's not half bad either........Ok,ok, i confess, i love the emo-ness of it all. Even if it is in German.

Bill and Tom

Well, the reason im suddenly all crazy about dreads today is because there is the cutest guy working in the hospital with the sweetest dreads. First spotted while fixing the roof about 3 weeks ago, then saw him on the bus back two days ago...Today he was behind me in the cafeteria line. He's cute.

Dreadhead HQ

It starts as hate and becomes grudging liking.....where will it go?

Im talking about my relationship with Interpol.

I had a few select Interpol songs in my music collection for ages but i never got around to listening to them. If the songs came up in a random playlist it naver piqued my interest.

What got me listening was the offer of tickets to an Interpol gig in London. I thought to myself, i need to get to know their music if im going to their gig. I didn't like them at all at the first listen.

I was keen to go (im a fan of live music, any kind really) but i forgot about the gig and missed it. I had an exhausting day and was flat out by the evening- it totally slipped my mind.

This was all last year.

Today, i was listening to Slow Hands, Evil and The Heinrich Maneuvre. Those songs definately piqued my interest today. Obstacles 1 is pretty good too. And the deep bass of the lead singer's (Paul Bank) voice doesn't grate so much anymore. I know im hooked when i start humming along, and later on the tube platform attempt to sing the song with all the wrong lyrics.

It dawned upon me, hey, im starting to like interpol. Their lyrics are a bit beyond me, it's too deep for me to interpret or understand. They're not story-telling lyricist like the Decemberist or Belle and Sebastian but it's the tunes, the post-progressive punk that's gotten me.

Im trying to figure out what's changed so that now i like them (grudgingly i admit) after exhorting to my mates (all interpol fans mind you) how interpol does not push any of my musical buttons and Paul Bank's voice is just to basso for me to enjoy.

Im too old

I find that being depressed, suicidal and all dark and brooding is kinda cute and cool when i was 15, but now, at 23, this angst is lame.

Smoking and listening to german emo bands on a thursday night used to be cool. Now im just unhealthy and sad.

Your face is scarred with age,
You're twenty-three but, how can that be?

Half-an-hour later..........

The fire alarm went off! Sheer panic- is it my room? Flung open the windows, dumped my ashtray in the bin and tucked my smokes into my pocket. Legged it downstairs and stood shivering outside in the cold. Found out a bit later that the alarm set off was in the 3rd floor stairwell. Phew.........relief.

Painful Pins

My pathologically wide feet hurt.
So do my calves.
I was running about for about 10 hours in pretty shoes (=painful shoes).

My brain hurts
And yet i still know nothing.

I feel sad for the people i met today.

This term i've been having a niggly feeling that im in the wrong career path.
I'm scared of people.
I don't like seeing people in pain.
I will not make any money in this job.
I have lost motivation to study. Even smart, show-off people don't inspire me to study and get smart so i can wipe that pompous smirk of their face. I used to love doing that.

Im hungry, but i don't want real food. I want chocolate, pringles and fried chicken coated in barbeque sauce. Chips smothered with cheese and covered in mayonnaise and ketchup.

Someone feed me and give me a reason to live.

Biking in high heels

I usually look disgusting on my bike. Ratty jeans, dirty shoes and me sweating like a pig as i overtake yet another fucking bus.

But im inspired by this manifesto by a Danish cycling style blog. There is a chance that i'll grow up to be a chic cyclist. Till then im still wondering if i should get that 40 quid gold lame jacket to cycle in. Big fat golden girl with red heels on a black and orange mountain bike. I'm loving the image already.

The Copenhagen Cycle Chic Manifesto.

I choose to cycle chic and, at every opportunity, I will choose Style over Speed.

I embrace my responsibility to contribute visually to a more aesthetically pleasing urban landscape.

I am aware that my mere prescence in said urban landscape will inspire others without me being labelled as a 'bicycle activist'.

I will ride with grace, elegance and dignity.

I will choose a bicycle that reflects my personality and style.

I will, however, regard my bicycle as transport and as a mere supplement to my own personal style. Allowing my bike to upstage me is unacceptable.

I will endeavour to ensure that the total value of my clothes always exceeds that of my bicycle.

I will accessorize in accordance with the standards of a bicycle culture and acquire, where possible, a chain guard, kickstand, skirt guard, fenders, bell and basket.

I will respect the traffic laws.

I will refrain from wearing and owning any form of 'cycle wear'. The only exception being a bicycle helmet - if I choose to exercise my freedom of personal choice and wear one.

Alternatively, a golden satin jacket...?

Vampire - Antsy Pants

From the soundtrack of Juno.

It is how i feel at the moment. A kind of hyper, angry, sad and lonely that only a vampire that has lost its fangs (but still retaining his sense of humour) can feel, bustling around with lots of energy and nothing to do.

Im so angry ive lost my appetite.

Where's my cigarettes?

Self-doubt

Im one of those people who believe that if i want something bad enough, i'll get it. So, if i dont get something i want, it's all my fault for not wanting it enough.

Fuzzy logic, but it's a personal truth.

There's footnotes and exceptions; for example: if something is bad for me, i may not get it, however desperately i want it.

The power of this simple concept of getting what i want has its principles in the idea that our world is something we create. That i have a part of play in the grand scheme of things. My thoughts, beliefs and actions all contribute into making the world what it is. However little my ripples are in the grand ocean. I might not be the butterfly whose flutter wings cause the proverbial tornado across the world, but it may make the petals of a nearby flower to shiver. And thus the dominos continue to fall.

The idea is that if i cannot fathom the concept/idea/ thought of not getting something, that world, with that reality, will not exist for me. In that split second where there exist two possibilities, the only possibility that can exist and continue as reality is the one with what i want, only because i believe no other reality can exist.

So, based on the above arguments, to get what i want i must not be ready to accept anything else. I must go for what i want with a kind of tunnel vision focus- to want something so bad that nothing else exist but it. That my world would crumble if it doesn't happen. Because it i will get what i want, i only have to want to bad enough.

Self-doubt is most dangerous because it opens up the possibility that an alternative, less desirable outcome to become reality. At that important split second where multiple outcomes exist but our world can only pick one to become the current reality, there is a chance that the undesired outcome will become reality. If we consider that the both outcomes are equally possible, then there's a 50-50 chance i may get what i want. If i come up with more than one alternative outcome, the chances of getting what i ultimately want becomes smaller.

The conclusion is that to get what I want I have to be strong and not ever consider settling for less.

With the grace of God, of course.

julie tearjerky

A classic from the 90's with a most hilarious video. At least i dont lose my sense of humour when im suicidal

images of ireland 1

Cliffs of Moher

Galway in the evening

The green revellers on St. Patrick's Day parade




My own pint! (and a certificate for it too!)

I didnt get it

i didn't get a place at the fancy house.

does it mean im stuck here?

im so tired of living i wish i could die.

it's too hard to be happy and alive.

Jenny Owen Youngs - Fuck Was I

My new love- Weeds.

You can take that line interpret that any way you like.

Nada Surf - Always Love

It's 3 in the morning, im afraid to call my mother

I'm not in a good way to talk to her. I don't think i can fake healthy and happy. If i can convince myself might be able to convince her. I can't do this anymore. I really want to run away.
My anchor has gone incommunicato- and im committing friendship suicide/murder. She'll find out for sure, i don't know why i did it, but i dont know what im doing. cancel that. I know what im doing, im going in this with my eyes open, but, the reasons are a little blurry. Maybe im crazy. Maybe it's too many cigarettes. Maybe it's just the strain.
The fucking research project going to the dogs. The 10,000 word essay due in May. The really smart and nice guys im in placement with who are so intelligent, coherent, confident and 'together': i wish i could hate them. The weight im not losing. the half bag of marshmallows i scoffed in 10 minutes. The 10 episodes of Weeds i just watched. The work i didn't do.
It aint a great place to be.
I dont want her to know. She doesn't need to know this.
But why do we tell?
Im looking for sympathy, some comfort, somebody to say that it'll be ok. 'Cause i dont believe me. Nada surf provides some comfort, but it aint real. Relief is temporary, this shit don't just go away with a playlist of soppy songs.