Thursday, 31 December 2009


Remember this Wes?

Also seen here?

Even XO Skeletons, as shit as they were, had the same crowd going. Some Girls? Fucking rad times.

Not that this is bad, but it doesn't come close (Crap pun not intended)

I know there are more people into this sort of music these days, but where is the FUN? Never in all my years of Eisold worship would I have imagined him to settle down, especially this way.

We all need to go a bit crazy sometimes.


Tuesday, 15 December 2009

Try hard vs not trying

I don't know if it's from living in a city of millions or the revelation that it's literally been years since I've persued anyone/anything- but my eyes have been wandering too much lately. I've never felt embarrassed about my lack of experience or conquests, in fact it's nothing to be ashamed of. I would rather be this way then bend myself around the place. Reaching the end of the decade and looking back though, I don't have a whole lot to reminisce about. Not just in terms of relationships, but ANYTHING. It worries me to a slight point: When I'm older looking back on this time in my life, will I greatly regret not trying a bit harder?
I don't want to throw myself at just anything. I miss romance. For a long time it just hasn't been something I've focused on. There have been far more important things to set my sights on. Maybe it's just winter's lonely grips seething in? Maybe, when spring is here again, I won't be so bothered? This time around, I think I have to admit to myself that this is not the case.
I have been falling in love with beautiful strangers and flirting a bit dangerously with sleazy cohorts. At least I can positively say that I'll never resort to the latter. At least I have that. Although something in the back of my mind is a bit curious.
This built up tension is starting to get messy.

Monday, 14 December 2009

Creative Kills

I wish I didn't spend all day and all night filling my head with silly dreams of lyrics for songs and chord progressions,
I wish I didn't doodle ideas for club nights and make lists of which new records to buy when I finally get some money,
I wish I didn't see the disappointment in my parents' eyes everytime I went home,
I wish I didn't freak out about getting more bills and stopped crying at night worrying about my debts,
I wish I spent my days at work, counting beans and making beans,
Going for lunches with clients and colleagues,
Wearing a dry-cleaned suit and coiffing up my hair with cold water,
Asking how my bosses kids were doing and which schools he'd recommend in the area,
I wish I lived in a huge house, with 2 cars quite close to my parents,
I wish my biggest task at the moment was organising my wedding,
I wish I had to buy my colleague an engagement present,
I wish I had an upcoming performance review but this time it would go perfectly.
I wish I never questioned this life.

I wish I wasn't alone,
I wish I wasn't me.


Monday, 23 November 2009


I taste fear in your tears. I touch when you tremble. Circular in motion, devoid of emotion. You laugh and you scorn "I wish you were never ever born" then clutch at my hands in shame. Sorry sorry whatever do you mean? A silent plea falls heavy on my ears. Heavy on my conscience, heavy when I breathe:

"Did you hear the story about the girl that broke?
She took his plea to heart.
They danced that dance that went on.
And on forevermore.
On for an eternity! he said, an eternity for me.
When she heard the news,
that forever was a lifetime she wasn't too keen.
Her heart began to beat, her mind started to heat,
where's the stop button? When can I leave?
The room began to spin, the shoes wore thin.
Her eyes turned in.
Faster he cried, faster therein.
Fingers bit into her arms, bruises mottled her skin.
Hair fell to the floor. She wasn't present anymore.
Faster he cried, and so faster therein.
Did you hear how it ends? I heard she broke."


Sunday, 15 November 2009

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

I hope you never read this

You broke my heart almost half a decade ago now. It's weird, I haven't thought about it some time. In fact, that whole relationship feels like a world away, a different life. I haven't been with anyone since, which some say is a bit weird considering I am so young. It's not for any reason to do with you, though. I've just not ventured down that alley, there has been no interest to do so. Well, in general there has been of course- I just haven't found it in anyone.
We have been friends since you ended it so abruptly. Not with initial ease, of course. The first summer after you broke my heart, it was hard. You had moved on so easily, to a few girls within the school year. In fact, it was when you went off to school that you decided to break things off. It wasn't face to face. It was cowardly. You admitted that in the summer after. The summer we reintroduced as just friends.
It was weird not sitting near you when we would hang out. It was weirder when I would have to, because I would have to force myself not to hold your hand by instinct.
These things, all of these things. I haven't thought about any of it in such a long time. We don't talk as often as we used to, but when we do very little has changed. I would consider you to be a good friend of mine now. There is no tension, no lingering feelings. At least, I don't think so. As I said, that whole relationship of ours feels like another lifetime ago.
The other night I had a dream that involved you. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but we were together again. The strange thing is, I woke up quite a few times in the night and bizarrely, I just kept dreaming about you.
It has been a solid four years since I have thought about you in such ways. Once I got over you, that was it. But was it? I never questioned myself until now. I don't know how it would be if it were to happen again. We're both in very different places, but we're still the same people, really. I haven't thought of you in that manner in so long, but it was nice to remember it. To dream about it was to be back there. I don't love you now, but I wonder if I could again.
A year after you broke my heart, you told me it was your biggest regret. I wonder if you still think about it that way.

Saturday, 31 October 2009

Dr. John Butler’s Electro-Massage Machine

I found this article in the Scientific American. Absolutely hilarious. (And the poster is a gem too.)

One of the first electrical appliances made its way into the home as a purported medical device. For a sex toy, the vibrator’s roots seem amazingly antiseptic and clinical. Prescribed as a cure for the curious disease hysteria, the device for decades found clinical application as a supposed medical therapy.

Derived from the Greek word for “uterus,” hysteria occurred in women with pent-up sexual energy—or so healers and early physicians believed. Nuns, widows and spinsters were particularly susceptible, but by the Victorian era many married women had fallen prey as well. In the late 19th century a pair of prominent physicians estimated that three quarters of American women were at risk.

The prescription of clitoral orgasm as a treatment for hysteria dates to medical texts from the first century A.D. Hysterical women typically turned to doctors, who cured them with their hands by inducing a “paroxysm”—a term that hides what we now know as a sexual climax. But manual stimulation was time-consuming and (for the doctors at least) tedious. In The Technology of Orgasm: “Hysteria,” the Vibrator and Women’s Sexual Satisfaction, science historian Rachel P. Maines reports that physicians often passed the job off to midwives.

The invention of electricity made the task easier. Joseph Mortimer Granville patented an electromechanical vibrator in the early 1880s to relieve muscle aches, and doctors soon realized it might be used on other parts of the body. That innovation shortened treatment time for hysteria, fattening doctors’ wallets.

Patients were happy, too. The number of health spas offering vibration therapy multiplied, and the service was so popular vibrator manufacturers warned doctors not to overdo it with the modern appliance: if they met relentless patient demand, even mechanical vibration could be tiring. By the turn of the century needlework catalogues advertised models for women who wanted to try the treatment at home, making the vibrator the fifth electric appliance to arrive in the home—after the sewing machine, the fan, the teakettle and the toaster.

The vibrator’s legitimacy as a medical device declined after the 1920s, when Sigmund Freud correctly identified paroxysm as sexual. In 1952 the American Psychiatric Association dropped hysteria from its list of recognized conditions. When the vibrator was again popularized years later, women no longer needed the pretense of illness to justify a purchase.

Friday, 30 October 2009

New Life, New Life

On Wednesday, I set the ball rolling for what is to become my new life.
I've started to apply for Universities, and started researching what I have to do, in order to start this prospective new life of mine.
For years I have been looking forward and obsessing about moving to London. I know the city like the back of my hand, yet nothing terrifies me more. Despite being a frequent visitor I've previously viewed city as my playground, but now that I'm looking at London through the eyes of a potential student and future resident, it couldn't be more alien to me.
I'm terrified that I won't get into the University I want, I'm terrified that when I get there I will run out of money and be cast onto the streets, and even though I have lots of friends there, I'm terrified of feeling alone.
So now, t-minus 10 months to go and the stress is already mounting. I'm going to need as much help as I can get.


Wednesday, 21 October 2009

Display Purpose Only

Under the Motorway
suspended in Air
Outlived thier Purpose
forever Displayed.

Rebel rebel

Last night I grew tired of walking. I climbed upon the bendy bus.
I understand why people can't stand these ridiculous looking vehicles: Not only are they a disaster to look at, they're a pain to get around when driving in traffic. Not to mention, the fact that you can climb onto the back without having to flash a ticket to the driver means that many take advantage and just don't pay.
See, by nature I'm very bad at being a "rebel" (I also see the term as very outdated, I just can't think of any other word that would fit at the moment). Even the other day, while purchasing a calzone and coffee from a chain notorious for ripping off its customers, the girl at the counter had forgotten to actually charge me for the pizza roll. Instead of running with this, I was quick to correct her. I just can't deal with guilt, even when it's minimal and silly.
Anyway, I didn't have the change on me for the bus. So I did what most of my friends do on a regular basis and just hopped on anyway. In doing so, my only thought was This is going to be that one time when the cops run on board and make everyone hold up their tickets and Oysters and I will be left empty handed which in turn will be RED handed and I'll be arrested and shipped away to some defunct transit prison!!!!!
Of course such thoughts quickly leave when I realize, Hey, I'm totally getting away with this. I'm riding the bus for FREE. Screw you Boris!
A few stops later, though, my face froze in horror. Two stout ladies in ugly neon uniform quickly boarded the bus. FUCK!, I thought, It's bloody rush hour! Of course they're going to do routine checks!
They headed in my direction. I whipped out my mobile phone and started ghost texting, as to not make eye contact or seem too awkward. I heard some mumbling coming from one of their walkie-talkies. They grew closer. I felt my face turning bright red. My heart was in my throat. I almost wanted to cry out I'LL PAY THE FINE PLEASE END THIS TORTURE!
Thankfully, I didn't. They passed by me and headed towards a man in the back. There was quite a commotion, I suppose they were hunting him down specifically. During their confrontation, I pressed the "Stop Here" button and jumped off. I only managed to reach halfway to my destination, but I was content with dragging my legs the rest of the journey. I have learned.

Sunday, 18 October 2009


Walking in the dark I try hard to ignore the feeling that someone, or somthing is watching, judging.

With each step comes the overwhelming sensation that I am getting forever closer to the eternal abyss, the point of no return, the moment each of us must face.

As I look ahead nothing stares back, there is no consciousness, good or evil to give purpose and no comfort to be found in the emptiness for that which lies ahead.
I am greeted only by a foreboding pressure which tightens as I advance......

Matthew Suter

Saturday, 10 October 2009

'UNION' Jack.

The EDL is also expected to gather there at about 5pm.
Police issued a stern message to troublemakers.

Ch Supt Gerry Donnellan, of Greater Manchester Police (GMP), said:

"If people come to Manchester to protest they are legally entitled to do so. As soon as they step over the line between lawful protest then we will be taking positive action against those individuals. If you are going to come to Manchester and think you can get away with shouting racist, inflammatory remarks, you can expect us to respond."

For the first time in my life I was scared of walking through Manchester alone, and I've had a knife pulled out on me before and wasn't fazed, I've walked through a Rangers Football riot that looked like an apocolypse before but today the atmosphere was Tense. Tactical Units and Police Horses littered the roads.

I got out of work and turned the corner, three guys with Union Jack flags on their shirts stared me straight in the eye with a sharp glint of disgust.

"Hmmmm, interesting."
I would wear that flag with just as much pride, the difference is: Your hatred is only going to result in self-consumation. Are you absolutley sure your pure breed?

Meh, Fuck 'Em.
And with that thought I skipped off home with my head held high.


Lust lust lust

(More paintings)

Is it weird to find these guys to be so attractive?

Also, if you have the chance: Check out the Gay Icons exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery. It's a fiver to get in, but it's worth it, and it's in its closing days. The photo of Joe they've been using for the ads is reason enough...

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

The Emblems of Tragedy

Lately I have been at a low point, where I wasn't feeling inspired by anything. I live in an area full of culture and arts but felt a bit lost. There are so many people around here that put their whole selves into what they do, whether it be music, paintings, sculptures, films, any of that. But there is also a crowd bound with a pretentious mentality. Whether it's those who believe they're the next big thing, or those just jumping on the band wagon. I just haven't felt enough genuine passion lately.
This past week I have turned into something of a tourist, even though I live in London. I have family visiting, one person in particular has never been in this city before. We've been going to see as many galleries, museums and exhibitions as possible (especially the free ones).
I have been living here since June, and I have taken in a lot of the art scene but more so the east end sort of thing. The only major museum I had visited was the V&A Museum of Childhood for its Roald Dahl exhibition. I hadn't really thought about the bigger places.
Seeing modern art at Tate (like the Warhol room) was spectacular. The Natural History museum took almost four hours, and then we followed that up with the Science Museum (who have the most amazing Wallace and Gromit themed exhibit... it's not just for children!)
BUT! It wasn't until we reached the National Portrait Gallery that I really started to take everything in. I suppose I have a bit of ADD with galleries sometimes, in the sense that I don't appreciate everything as much as I should. I sort of zip through rooms sometimes, only aiming to see a certain peice. It's a bad habit, and I don't mean to act ignorant. I am just not an art buff by any means. I can't see what's special about a blank canvas with some blue lines on it.
Anyway, the National Portrait Gallery. I was already excited with seeing a full sized version of Blur's "Greatest Hits" cartoons. The Twiggy collection was classic and there was a slightly creepy painting of Paul McCartney's face. It wasn't until I reached the more historic pieces that I became completely entranced.
One in particular that struck me was learning about an actress named Sarah Siddons. I found this portrait in particular to be so haunting. I just wanted to look at it for hours.

Sarah Siddons was a famous actress from the late 1700's to the early 1800's. I had never heard of her before I found her pictures but I find her to be so captivating. I feel as if I understand even just from paintings why she was such an important figure. Which is exactly what the artist wanted, I'm sure.

We also took a look in the National Gallery. We spent about two and a half hours in there and I still need to go back because we didn't get to see everything. The oldest paintings in particular were the most captivating. Many of them religious, but their textiles, especially those painted on gold leaf, were breathtaking.
This was another favourite discovery. It's from the year 1468.

All I want to do now is paint, sketch, sing, create a ridiculously lavish set and pose for someone else! Anything.
It has been so long since I have felt this inspired, creatively speaking.
I am certainly not taking these places for granted from now on.

Always and Consistant.

...then I play my guitar and everything doesn't seem so bad anymore.
Playing a riff that uplifts and makes me happy.
Plucking minor chords to calm me down.
Striking a whirl of barre chords when I'm angry.
Sometimes I can't believe the range of sounds I get when I let my mind wander.
My guitar is and will always be my first love,
forget the guys I cried over and yearn after.
My guitar makes my heart sing and fills me with wonder. Always.


Friday, 2 October 2009

The Fox's Cry

The Fox's Cry flies through the sky,
Like a missile through the hart
Like one ready to die with no alibi
Like an arrow it pierces the dark

Monday, 28 September 2009


It wasn't meant to be this way...

Not again...

Not now....
Not never....

I can't recover from this from you again.

Eternal collapse.

I need a friend not a Fan.

I'm still the same person so please.
Please don't put me on a pedastal I don't deserve to be on,
it makes me feel dissapointed in your judge of character
and insults my memory of what once was.
And is.

Friday, 25 September 2009

Hey, You Gotta Pay Your Dues Before You Pay the Rent

Q: When will I be able to live my dream?
A: When the bills are paid.

I feel that I have been seventeen years old forever, but that was so long ago. Even at times when I should be a bit more grown up, in certain financial situations and work related drama, my mind still wanders and I am daydreaming. When I am down to my last bit of coin, it just means I spend my days walking instead of taking public transit (which I prefer anyway.)

I'm not immature, I just expect better things are going to come. I do admit though, it's probably not always a good thing to be endlessly optimistic- In thoughts such as, "Oh, it doesn't matter that I'm spending all of my money on this ridiculously overpriced coffee, I'm sure I'll get a job within the next week!" When in reality that is less than likely. I know that I've been trying though. That mindset is probably why I look on the bright side rather than head towards a mental breakdown.

Still, I can't help but wonder what my future could hold. When will I have my lucky break? Whether it be working in something I love, or just being able to afford a nicer place to live. Being able to call my Mum with news she would be proud of.

This is what most people who think "realistically" would call a pipe dream. It's better to find something that pays the bills than to be happy. I'll be wandering along until I find a decent balance of the two.

Friday, 18 September 2009

Where In What Heavenly Cemetry Do The Words Of Lovers Rest When Their Love Is Dead?

It was a fast paced broken affair
At best it made me stronger than I ever knew I could be, he gave me a belief in myself and a spiritual awakening I never thought I would have, for a time we were in the same place, and the touch, the kiss alone was euphoric.

At worst we were emotionally destructive, driven by drug and alcohol induced manic desire, he reduced me to a shell of numb anxiety, a new kind of low.

But above all it was real and honest and I want to share these words, not because I'm nostalgic for what I once knew, but as a celebration. Reading these today, I feel no sadness, but happiness for knowing that our souls mingled and if I never find that again, thats okay.

L: I wanted you to know that the memory of you and your rain drops machine brought me the smile I needed in the early hours of this morning after a gruelling 8 hour sleepless journey on ritalin and red wine, many more happy thoughts of you followed.
I also wanted to apologise for my brash reply to you last week, I was drunk, tired and full of London cynicism and greed, I am truly touched I've inspired you to write so many songs and cannot wait to here them, now I'm not very good at opening my heart, but for some reason I trust you not to stamp all over it, it's been a very long time, so take that as a compliment, anyway I digress.. My love, I'm so so looking forward to spending as much (naked) time with you as possible in May.
There I said it..
Hope alls well darlin!

M: I detected no cynicism at all. You told me yourself you were honest and I believe you. Its hard enough to tell whats real in this world. Let alone if you cant see or feel or say what is truly so for a soul. I respect that quality and it is essential in any one I call a friend or my lover.
Walked by our special railroad love nest among the broken bottles and Texas steel. Walked by this morning still awake from a 24 hour mushroom and everything else you can imagine bender. It made me smile.
If its at all possible I would love to go and perform some kind of pagan ritual with you. You know, something really sexy involving blood or something. You know, something romantic. We can have a picnic too. Very much looking forward to seeing you. The days are marching on at a furious rate. Should be no time at all. May all your works be blessed and all windows and doors be opened. Lots of love my dearest.

M: Lover!
I cant wait. Your on my mind and my hearts beating fast. Hopefully you didnt do something silly and get a boyfriend. Only a few days right? You will be at ATP right? I sure hope so. I want your lips on mine. Sorry but something about Paris makes my blood boil and your haunting my thoughts. I hope all is well. All of my love...

M: Had a lovely time with you. Looking forward to our next meeting after tomorrow. I lose my breath when I think of our time together.

L: My head is heavy with dangerous thoughts after the weekends wickedness, I don't belong at this desk, I have no care for these people and their problems.
I get into Manchester at 2.45 on Wednesday and leave at 2 the next day and so goodbye until who knows when, dark days lay in front of me, but I am prepared, I smell you on my skin and feel you inside me and it ignites this fierce desire to make everyone fall at my feet, you have made me so strong my love.

M: Baby. Thinking of you makes my heart beat fast and makes me want to bite something. I love you and will see you very soon.
I dont know about hotel room. My intentions to save per diems have not been successful as of yet. Never know maybe it will work out that I will get my own room that night. Either way we are not sleeping that night. Need to send me off loved up, exhausted and heart sick. Miss you lovely

L: I am sad, I am consoling myself under my duvet with jaffa cakes. I've been thrown off the bus onto the unknown highway, I found a love I've never known before and now I am at a loss as to what to do with it?
Yesterday I cried for the first time in a long time, but they were mainly happy tears, thank you for unlocking my heart my friend, you may keep the key.

Somehow, somewhere I shall see you soon my love, thank you, keep well and keep happy.I love you.

M: I dont even know how to reply to such poetry.
I had the most dreamy and wonderful time with you that is sure to haunt me at all hours especially those quiet and late ones. The forest, the beach, sweet love tortured sunrises, stone circles, and sweat soaked love ins with no sleep.

M: Hey darling
Been thinking about you. You are an amazing photographer. Your photos are all so ALIVE. you got the goods girl.
Im sorry I'm such a wild flake but I need your dog-gone email again. Ive been losing everything this trip. My mind is still there but barely.
I miss you. We need to catch up. Its easy with my life to just let large amounts of time pass by and it seems like no time at all. Thats probably why Im like a dead man to my friends. Im gone and they all move on quite easily. The trade I guess is loneliness for what I love. Ill take it and try not to complain about it. When you send me email again ( so sorry ) Ill write you a proper letter with the good bits and the bad bits from the past couple months. Its been quite a trip when I think about it. I hope all is well with you and yours in every way. I love you. Ill talk to you soon. What i wouldn't give for a kiss

L: Baby, it's midnight, I'm sat in a trailer at my uncles with a bottle of wine, listening to Dylan, theres a sexy summer storm going on, thunder, lightening, the works, so exciting, you should be here with me, running about like two mad little twisters!
How was New Orleans? How's that good news coming on? We do need to catch up! Old thoughts of you are haunting me to the point of madness now, but keeping myself busy making plans I should have made years ago.
All my love my love.

M: So tonight after practice Im gonna sit down with a glass of wine and a joint and maybe even light a candle and put my thoughts down. Ive been thinking about you a lot lately.
Ill write you tonight.

M: Was talking to some guy I had never met before at the yucca inn and he said he had met an english girl and he said. "Yeah you really broke her heart" was strange hearing it from someone I had never met. Forgive me for using my words in reckless ways. I had no intention of ever hurting you. Only sharing violent passionate and beautiful moments with you. But maybe there is no way to avoid hurt in those moments. perhaps its inevitable if one chooses to go there. regardless I will be more careful with what I say from this point on. I wish all the best for you. On your travels and in your endeavors. Be safe and have fun.
Talk to you soon

L: There will be happy memories of this strange adventure of course,
but you need to understand the hurt doesn't lie with the memory of loving words, violent passion and amazing things we've shared, I hope you don't truly believe that pain inevitably follows.
Hurt came with the recent occasional cold words and actions, in walking away or lying next to me as if you didn't know me.
We are all complexed creatures, I think I have some understanding of whats going on with you and why, maybe more idea than you do, probably not, but I cannot comprehend how you can switch like that when you've said you care for someone as a friend or lover,
no matter what kinda social freak out you're having, you're too old and clever for that shit, as capable as I am of looking after myself, I really didn't appreciate being made to feel like you couldn't stand being anywhere near me two days after being naked with you.
I was wrong to say I had no expectation, I am an eternal optimist, a dreamer, permanently driven by the simple things that make me happy,
But trust me when I say my only expectation was to enjoy the short time are paths were crossed at full volume, with all the passion and affection I admittedly only feel for you at this time, also remember that I told you when we met I have lovers not boyfriends, a good balance of independence, freedom and coming together with someone you're deeply attracted to at any given opportunity, to share a pure kind of non possessive closeness that is often lost in a monogamous relationship.
When it works, it's amazing and in my opinion the purest kind of love, an inspiring situation for any creative soul. Tell me if I'm wrong, I think at times you agree and want the same too, but it takes two with the same driven desire to make it work properly and you're not in that place anymore, it seems your conscience and priorities lie elsewhere, I understand and accept that.
A few things you should remember about me, I rarely let words without true feeling pass my lips, that especially applies to sincerity in love, love and flippancy do not mix in my world, I treat others as I'd like to be treated. I am also as you know honest and wear my heart on my sleeve and occasionally talk to strangers in the dark about my broken bits....

L: Hey sweet, hope you made it back okay and that diaze helped make the long journey a little more painless?
It's torturous thinking what could have been these next few days, a sexy Winter solstice at The Stones, hot tubs, forest walks with white dog, red wine, red meat and seeing how long we could stay naked and awake for...then Christmas day 35,000 feet above the Earth, heavily medicated on love and pills, jetting away to our next adventures, perhaps too perfect an ending to a year already competing as probably the best of my life so far. A thousand good memories of you that will never leave me, Thursday especially meant the world, so thank you lover. All I ask is that you don't forget the words we whispered and love shared, mine has always been true.
All my heart

M: I am recovering from over 24 hours of drunkenness over the new year. Ouch.
I was stranded over night in houston on the way back. Then .... picked me up and we went pretty much straight away up to the family... It was a nice way to come down but not nearly so nice as your beautiful and poetic description of our country hideaway. My god that sounds sexy. Anyways there was lots of eating and sleeping. It was 10 below zero, and we're talking Fahrenheit, the night we arrived. Hibernation with the occasional smuggled e pill mixed in for variety (thank you very much).
Our last night was so nice. I won't forget the words or touches or experiences that we've had. I've meant it all. How is your journey going?
I think of you often and I hope wherever you are and whatever your doing that all is well and filled with inspiration. Lots of love, darling

Wednesday, 16 September 2009

She was feeling pretty apathetic

I think I am slowly turning into Jo from A Taste Of Honey.
Although to be fair, she had a whole lot more on her plate. I'm not pregnant with a random man's baby and I am not currently fighting any social taboos. That I'm aware of, anyway.
Is it strange to relate so strongly to someone with whom you really don't have a lot in common? I don't think so.

Oh to live in a time when a loft apartment cost you £30 a week, though....

Tuesday, 15 September 2009

Art versus The Real World

Writing this makes me feel so cliched....It's an age-old problem of art versus getting a 'proper' job which has never reached a solution. I have been on this planet for almost 30 years and yet I am still stumped as to whether there is a happy medium for being happy and modestly well-off. I dont think this exists. I don't believe in the middle classes.

I was raised in a well-to-do family- middle class bordering on upper I suppose. I had jobs from the age of 16. Spending my earnings on clothes and records mostly. I was proud - I felt self-sufficient and I sailed through academia. On the surface I was a model child in a model family. If only things had stayed that way...

I remember a friend of mine sending me an article a few years ago when I was in my first job since graduating. The title screamed something about mid-life crises hitting people in their mid-20s and not like in their 40s as before. Our lives now were bigger, better and faster than the yuppie generation of the 80s and hence we burnt out and crashed out much earlier than they did.

My friend was sent the article by his dad who was livid that he dropped out of law school to pursue a career in media. As for me, I was happily perched in what was my chosen career and so I read the article thinking of my friend but never once related it to myself.

2 and a half years later the unthinkable happened - being badly bullied at work and realising that I had spent all my time studying for a career which was money obsessed sent me into dark depression. The young city prodigy was earning more than her father now but was suicidal.

What happened next? I started a band. I pursued the teenage dream which I had try to ignore for so many years. I worked harder for this than I have for any exam I've ever sat in my life. I achieved success in a relatively short amount of time and reeled of all the idols I never thought I would meet in the space of a lifetime let alone in the space of a year...Everything was perfect...or so it seemed.

Then the frantic sleepless nights began...Worrying about money and bills 24 hours a day. As accumulation of debt began to build, my dreams began to tumble. At what cost was I pursuing this dream? Why did my dream not boost my reality?

I sit here after yet another sleepless night and counting down the hours before the next one begins. I've been looking for jobs - part-time menial work that won't even be worth my time or energy versus high-flying city jobs which will destroy all my time but will theoretically help pay me bills.


Tell me there is a middle way. A way I can be happy and not have to keep thinking of escape routes out of my life....

I don't have you with me but I keep a good attitude.

Whenever I am asked who my favourite bands are, I always spout off the same familiar names. About five of them, actually. I have never been able to pick just one.
For some reason, though, I always seem to skip over one particular artist. I think it could be because he was such a staple in my life at a time when things couldn't have been any worse.
I know there are songs, albums even, that could sum up a moment in time for everyone. There has always been background noise suited to whatever is going on. May it be teenage melodrama like break ups or better times like birthday parties.
To be honest, there was another band at that time in my life that I could probably name as a bigger influence over all. That would be the easy answer, anyway. The group I had plastered all over my walls and could sob along to just because some dude in school didn't like me back. Like-like, of course.
This man in particular was sort of my safety net. It wasn't like my fondness of him was secret or anything, I just don't think people understood just how attached I was to his work. It wasn't a fangirl sort of thing by any means. I just got it, and most people had no idea I had any reason to know what "it" was. I wore a brave face a lot of the time. I don't know if I ever came close to reaching a point as low as this man eventually did, In fact, I think he sort of helped me from staying as far from that as possible.
I remember the day I read of him taking his life. That was the first time I had been so effected by someone I had never even met. In all honesty, I can never understand how someone is able to do this. It hit me so hard. At one point he was one of the only voices I could trust, and he took that away. I remember being really angry. Being young, I had that warped idea that if I had met him, maybe things could have been different. Maybe I could have turned the tables and been the one to make him see that it's not all bad in the world. It wasn't to be though.
It's been almost six years since that day. Admittedly, I don't listen to him as much as I used to. I got a bit older, things got better. That's not to say the music isn't still completely perfect. It doesn't bring me back to bad memories, but rather it is a reminder of how much he meant to me.
He might be kept in the back of my head these days, but I won't forget him.

"To vanish into oblivion is easy to do. And I try to be, but you know me. I come back when you want me to."

Saturday, 12 September 2009

Girls are Bitches.

I knew there was a reason why I have more guy friends than girls

I was passing two girls who work on Chanel and this is a snippet of conversation I overheard:

"....Y'know She was so Ugly I couldn't look her in the face when she was talking to me." Girl 1

"Hahahaha" Girl 2 (Guffaws un-ladylike)

Who is so ugly they don't even deserve to be looked in the eye whilst in conversation? She made me sick thinking she was so superior, looks don't last forever. Being genuine and showing humility is a much more attractive quality than being artificial and trying to impress friends.

“True humility is intelligent self respect which keeps us from thinking too highly or too meanly of ourselves. It makes us modest by reminding us how far we have come short of what we can be.” Ralph W. Sockman


Thursday, 10 September 2009

Sex Without Grammar

I want you to be sitting there reading this wearing a dress, shortish so you can run a finger along your thigh, starting from your knee slowly up to the inside of your thigh, slowly tracing down to your lips now starting to glisten and then all the way back up. You imagining my lips softly kissing your lips, making my way up to your clit, gently being massaged by my tongue, your finger lingering on your clit slowly and discretely teasing yourself. With your other hand you run your fingers through your hair, down the back of your neck with your nails digging in slightly applying more pressure as you run your nail down over your chest, missing your nipples deliberately... while you are doing this I want you to picture that you sitting on my lap on a chair, lips and tongue still playing faster with your clit, your breathing speeding up. I pull your legs apart despite your resistance, you gently slip your finger inside you while you are sitting there imagining you are pushing yourself hard onto my cock, slowly enjoying every single inch of me inside you. you push two fingers inside you as you picture my hands grabbing you by the waist and pushing my self further and harder inside you, tongue still playing with your clit, your other hand up inside your t-shirt, slowly tracing your belly, running your nails across your stomach, up along the side and cupping your chest. tongue and lips faster on your clit. You are still grinding hard and faster on my cock, more lips where your fingers are kissing round your stomach, lips kissing up between your chest brushing against your nipples, my hands still pulling you by your hips harder onto me, you pushing harder and harder grinding on my cock, you can feel waves and waves of anticipation with lips and tongue tantalising and teasing your lips and clit, more lips are teasing your nipples chest making their way up to your neck. another hand then starts to pull your hair again and scratch down your arched back, the hand scratching down your back digs their nails into your buttocks, pulling your cheeks apart and with a wet finger ringing you while gently slipping a finger inside in time to you now really fucking my cock. your hands are now behind your head pulling my hair encouraging me to be rougher... i release your hips and pull your thighs even further apart trying to get impossibly deep. there are still lips and tongues enjoying you, speeding up and slowing down as the waves of pleasure swell and excite every inch of you. I now drag my hands up your thighs and grab your breasts, my nails digging into you scratching your nipples. you are now really fucking my hard cock, your thighs and cheeks banging against me moaning loader and loader, as the other set of hands grab your arse trying to keep up with your thrusts while sucking and licking your clit... you look down at her and grab her by the hair force her to lick my cock and your clit as you are fucking me. her nails digg harder into your arse, her finger sliding further in... you are now shouting for me to fuck you and i am holding you at your waist helping fuck you harder and harder... you can feel every inch you getting ready to explode, the girl comes up and bites your nipples, scratches your thighs. She trys to put her fingers in your mouth and to start with, you lick them hungrily. You dig one set of nails into me as we start to speed up again, fucking harder and faster, waves building up again quickly you are just on the edge of exploding when you grab the girls hands and get her to ring you then you grab her hair and force her to play with your clit again... you are getting closer and building up more and more as you moan louder and louder shouting fuck me quicker and quicker. You turn to look at me and kiss me hard on the mouth. You look me straight in the eyes just moan, louder and louder, your eyes flick back and lips wrap tight around my cock as you fuck it harder and harder, more waves quicker and quicker and quicker before you scream enjoying every thrust, every lick and scratch in one moment of release. We slow down and the girl traces her tongue up along your stomach, chest neck and onto your lips... you release my cock and push me down on the bed kissing down my chest and stomach. You teasing my cock with your lips and tongue. you get the girl to come over and position her clit on my tongue, running your hand over her back and then her hair pulling her head down towards my cock. as she pushes her self against my tongue you take my cock and play with it deliciously in your mouth, it's not long after all the fucking before i am twitching keen to cum. You slow down and stop, kiss the girl and push her off of me, sit me up and stare me straight in the eyes as you take my cock in your divine mouth and make me cum harder than i have ever cum before...

Saturday, 5 September 2009

Freak Out.

That thunderous bassline walks, the white noise snare snaps, and silken vocals glide over possibly the most famous disco track ever created.
The song in question would be Donna Summer's I Feel Love.
I first heard this song as child, but it wouldnt be much later, until drunkenly dancing around a night club, that the 15 minute long synthesiser orgy that is the Patrick Cowley remix was blasted at me. The bass rumbled the floor, and the sounds move through your body like a virus, until you can't control your movement. Never had adding 12 minutes onto an already classic piece of music history proved so succesful. I'd like to see someone not get the urge to dance to this.
Patrick Cowley created an electronic marvel when he re-worked this song, from that single Moog Modular along with the voice of a Disco Siren songstress, it guaranteed this track to become a milestone in electronic music, on a par with Kraftwerk's Autobahn, as truly groundbreaking.
It is a gem that has been dusted off from the bottom of the DJ box, as every electronic club-night in London has been playing it, but for me, it never grows old.

Thursday, 3 September 2009

She's Lost Control-England, what a Cuntry!

Network Rail is first into room 101, followed closely by our miserable fuckin excuses for a summer, or even proper winters, our joke of a substitute prime minister, the beaucracy applied to everything from busking to incarcerating real criminals, the social snobbery I see in London every fuckin day I force myself to pretend it's still my home.
Rupert Murdoch, Conde´Nast and Philip Green for capatalising on the talentless blow-up dolls and initiating them as gods of good looks to the congregation of potentially intelligent sheep that hand over their plastic pound to feel like their truly apart of this skin deep religion.

Ok these are small things and I am overlooking the blessings that come with being an English citizen, having a key to The Kingdom. Credit to the greater things, free health, education and social care, freedom of speech and our liberally advanced social laws.

But I also have some questions about the greater fuck-ups.
Why do so many people I know feel like they're being screwed every time they move, expensed by high taxes and the daily cost of living? Why are those lucky enough to have a job and earn a salary which would stretch twice as far in any other first world country, and keep a village in a third world country, still find themselves turning to banks for extended overdrafts and credit cards? And why have the banks given them to us and expected us to keep up with payments when we clearly didn't have any money in the first place?
Why do we continue to feign power over poorer countries for their natural resources and cheap labour when we are also now in a £2 Trillion debt?

The good things about Britain today are product of lessons learnt with recent World Wars.

"Look after our people and we'll have a powerful country worth fighting for in the future!"

Which begs the question if all it comes down to is humanity's neolithic age old struggle for money and control and thats not enough to motivate those peaceful and honest 21st century souls, then why should we play the game and more worryingly where do we evolve from here?


Wednesday, 26 August 2009

She is so in love with you

Only a few minutes ago I found out that the legend that is Ellie Greenwich passed away today. She is undoubtedly one of the pioneers of pop music, especially for females behind the scenes. Even people who wouldn't recognize her name, know her songs- recorded by everyone from Neil Diamond to the Cramps. I'm not here to write about her achievements though, the songs really do speak for themselves.

I can't even begin to explain how much her songwriting changed my ideas on music in general.

Thank you, Ellie.

and of course...

Rest in peace. xxxx

Thoughts from the Stairs of a Church

I sit alone and watch the world,
But does the world watch me?
Does the world pay attention to my life?
Does it care for my hopes and fears, my dreams and desires?
Or am I outside looking in?
Looking at a world which is blank to everything but its self,
Insular and afraid,
Synical and alone,
Loveless and broken......

Matthew Suter

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Obscurities, Anomalies and Faroes.....

By David Saul Fineberg

A Quiet Riots Evening

Dear fellow rioters and QR readers,

In the short time this blog has been alive, we've been graced with everything from photo stories, music reviews, arguments for multiple lovers, arguments against multiple lovers, suicidal thoughts versus reasons for's been an intense and emotional journey thus far and one which I look forward to seeing where it will take us all.

I set this blog up with the intention of venting certain thoughts and frustrations but under the beautiful protection of anonymity. Writing a diary never gives you the feedback or other opinion you want to hear and your own blogs make you feel very hypersensitive and often embarrased by revealing too much. Not only has this served as a personal outlet but it also has for other people - other's posts are so intriguing and make such an honest, pure read. Thank you all.

It gives me great pleasure to announce the first of many Quiet Riot evenings, taking place THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 17TH at Catch. We will have photographic exhibitions, readings, DJs and live music for your pleasure.

Stay tuned for more info shortly.
Thanks again,
Dee Sada

Something Old, Something Borrowed, Something Blue.

Over the past month or so, I have been away to France, lived off wine and cigarettes and made intense music, but the gaps in between those meagre activities have given me time to think. And it focused on something that I have been thinking about for rather a long time.

A few weeks ago I got in contact with a VERY long lost friend from primary school (merci to facebook) and with her, a few other people I used to know also got in contact with me.
I havent had ANY contact with these people in perhaps 6 or 7 years, and it is so bizarre how you think you knew that person inside out when you were at school together, and that gap has changed them into completely different people, that you know absolutely nothing about. Another thing that totally intrigued me was that if you walked past that person in the street, you would never at all acknowledge that person unless they had remained totally youthful and not physically matured.

And finally, I really wonder, is it going to be worth getting to know that person again, when you have become so different from each other, and moved so far away?


Monday, 24 August 2009

There's no such thing as Too Much

Give more.
People that have
Are the first to want to be rid of them,

Some people don't realise that no-one is ever entirely happy and that EVERYONE deserves to live, even the scum of the earth and thats why we don't execute them (in Britain)

The grass is not greener on the other side, make the most of what you have even if it's meagre, don't expect too much and you will always be happy (if not pleasently suprised)

Someone once said that the point of life is to learn as much as you can before you die, ok so not everyone is going to get a degree but your learning about yourself that maybe your crap at finance but at least your kind to (animals?)

It makes me angry when people toll with the idea of death,
I knew people who would have loved to live longer but didn't and
like a certain someone said:

"There's nothing glorious in dying. Anyone can do it."

Life lessons from the television

Being hateful still means you care
Because to hate is to be passionate
The only thing that could really hurt is to say you feel nothing

Sunday, 23 August 2009

I Gave Too Much

There really is nothing worth living for. I have never experienced love or real sex. A dark fumble and bitter taste is about all. I’ve never had anyone put their arms around me at a bus stop and made sure I got home ok. I’ve never shown love to another nor received it. I haven’t even come remotely close to it.

I have no money.

I have no real friends.

I have family that I never see.

What is the point of living, accumulating more debt and worrying about how I will live this life? It will be easier for everyone involved if I just wasn’t here rather than everyone worrying about this freak.


What a total waste of space.

I don’t deserve to exist.

Monday, 17 August 2009

Boys and shoes and boys and shoes and boys and shoes

An idea of girls and subcultures:

"It is as everything that relates only to us comes out in footnotes to the main text, as worthy of the odd reference. We come on the agenda somewhere between 'Youth' and 'Any Other Business'. We encounter ourselves in men's culture as 'by the way' and peripheral. According to all the reflections we are not really there."

Woman's Consciousness, Man's World- Sheila Rowbotham

This quote is from 1973. Think of how many subcultures and fads have come and gone since this time. Or even, just music culture in general. Have we had the breakthrough or are we still just under the radar?

Monday, 10 August 2009

Where's Captain Planet The Movie?

Today I read a semi-interesting article about how Generation Y is already feeling nostalgic about their childhood. I am not entirely sure if I am young enough to fit in to this particular age group, but the examples made me feel old. It mainly focused on the fact that the Harry Potter cast and the majority of its fans are already jumping into their early 20s- even though it feels like just yesterday that this bespectacled young wizard first appeared on screen.
The Disney Generation (and I do mean the new version, not Britney and Justin... although having to state that difference also makes me feel my age) are also on the brink of adult hood. This realization brought up comments about what children's television programmes were most missed. While I was more into VHS copies of The Trap Door and Roger Mellie Man On The Telly, I had at least assumed amongst the listed would be shows like Are You Afraid Of The Dark? or the original Power Rangers. Instead, I was seeing Lizzie McGuire and Pokemon. Plus, Britney Spears is relatively close to my age, so why is going to see her in concert being compared to seeing someone like New Kids On the Block?
Admittedly, I am a complete nerd for looking up movies and bands I obsessed over as a child. It's a bit charming to dig up old mix tapes and try to figure out just what you were thinking when you were taping Boyzone off the radio. Or that one time when you went to see them and Peter Andre was the opener. Remember when Peter Andre was known as just a muscle-man with bad hair singing cheesy pop tunes? He still is? Oh, anyway. Well yes, some people reading this may think that my own personal childhood attachments may not seem that old themselves. Sometimes it doesn't really feel that long ago that I was watching the Little Mermaid in theatres. Then again, that movie came out in 1989- twenty years ago. Staple Disney movie in any kid's life, and some of my younger friends are a bit shocked that I am old enough to have seen it in its original theatrical release.
Not to mention, the kick Hollywood has been on lately with bringing things like Transformers and the Ninja Turtles to the big screen (again) as well as their choice of not-so-old remakes feels a bit ridiculous at times- Drop Dead Fred? REALLY?
It's impossible to stop the clocks, and I suppose I can try and force myself to admit that Limp Bizkit have already become a band of yesteryear, although I still refuse to lump them in as an artist of my generation.
I guess what sort of disturbs me the most about all of this is that at some point, bands like the Jonas Brothers and television shows like Hannah Montana are going to be dug up some years from now by twenty-somethings looking to feel like a kid again. I can't help but feel a bit sorry for them, cartoons these days aren't nearly as interesting as they used to be.

Sunday, 9 August 2009

Public Transport

I sit alone near the back of a route one bus. Blank metal walls surround me and I get the distinct feeling that this must be what it is like for a tinned sardine: cramped and marinating in the juices of your fellow passengers (though I imagine the smell would be preferable).

The Monotony of my surroundings is broken only by a few advertisments which I read aimlessly to pass the time. One has a picture of a woman sat on a similar but much cleaner bus, apparantly in a state of complete bliss. The reason for this I cannot imagine being the superb quality of her surroundings but probably the prospect of getting payed to pose for a photo on a bus. Another notice is for flu jabs designed no doubt by a group of men in suits wanting to take advantage of the current state of paranoia over the latest brand of the illness. According to the statistics it brandishes in bold red letters it appears to be for all who care for their lives the equivalent of the touch of Christ.

Again bored I find myself narrating a Discovery Channel style documentary in my head said in the mandatory Attenborough drone
"The Bus is a hugely diverse environment with many creatures coming from all over the area to use it's services" and so on. In my fictional documentary the compulsory drunk slumped mumbling to himself at the back of the bus is a queer representative of the leader of the pride gazing down from his vantage point over his kingdom.

In front of me are rows upon rows of uniform seats all with the same revolting, dull, multi-coloured covers, designed no doubt to disguise any stains (be it fast food, White Lightning or the vomit induced by it). The seats seem to me to share many similarities with the people sitting on them: ordered, used to maximum efficiency and desperate to hide any faults with mediocrity. Each person shares the common objective of trying to avoid any contact with another, pretending to read a newspaper or attend a bawling infant. This may be public transport but in spirit it seems there is nothing public about it.

Matthew Suter

Thursday, 6 August 2009

Prostitutes in Picadilly

So rumor has it there are prostitutes that are situated near my flat.

I've never seen them so I've never really believed it mainly because I didn't want to.

My sister swears theres a black pimp with a ponytail that hangs out in Picadilly Gardens, high and flanked by women. (In my head he looks like Samual L Jackson in Jackie Brown)

Anyway today we had really good weather, so I went out taking pictures and my mission was Industrial Manchester circa 1980...One thing led to another and I ended up in what is known as the red light area because there are dark tunnels pervs pick up women from, I spotted a woman walking through one...

I only go and take a picture because her back is turned

She turns starts yelling at me waves her arms about screaming "Come on then, do you want a better picture, I'm gonna get your F****** ass kicked you stupid B**** Go on then"

Then she starts tottering after me and I'm running like nobodies business, because all I can think of is a manic Samual L Jackson character chasing after me and killing me departing with a quirky One liner, which includes the words 'Mothef*****' and 'Ho'

Which is, admittedly a pretty cool way to die.

Friday, 31 July 2009

King Of The Delta Blues

[I don't know how many people have heard this song before, and I don't feel the need to post the audio; It might ruin the impact as the lyrics are almost lost amongst the music. I just always seem to have them in my head.]

Their bones break where their hearts cannot, and heads are gonna roll ‘til I want them to stop. I’ll be there with bells on, just name the state. It will have to be underground. Underground because God ain't up this late.
Their bones are breaking ‘cause they’re weary and aching. The axes are falling ‘til they're dull or they're breaking. I’ll be there for you, or we can set us a date. I swear I love you, I swear by Christ. It is your father that I hate.
Lying to you never gets to me, because getting caught is what keeps me so honest.
Honestly, I might be the king of the delta blues. I sold my soul to write this for you. So get off your back. Is this really how you like to fuck? Face down ass up?
Trade it pound for pound. Trade it quart for quart. Trading lust for
love is like trading cheap wine for port.
This white-collar floozy has the blue-collar blues. More skeletons than closets and I still have more skin than tattoos. Ice where it’s bruised, swelled, rub out those bedsores.
To the face that launches thousands of ships, I miss you more then ignorance is bliss. More then I let on with my kiss. More then you’d ever care to be missed. Today a sister lost her sister, a son his mother. More than this. Fuck this.


The breaking of her silence as she purges hell

Wounded confined

A subtle frame balances

Till silence is admonished


Each burden echoed but given

No name

She bellows


It’s now as though her lungs where mine


In those moments of broken silence.

Hold on to me

I won’t let you drown.

Dr. Feelgood

There are certain moments when you read something, and you hear it just at the time you need it the most. Whether you like Richard Hell or not is irrelevant.

“I don’t think Richard Hell’s fascination with death is anything else but stupid. I suspect almost every day that I’m living for nothing. I get depressed and I feel self destructive and a lot of the time I don’t like myself. What’s more, the proximity of other humans often fills me with overwhelming anxiety, but I also feel that this precarious sentience is all we got and, simplistic as it may seem, it’s a person’s duty to the potentials of his own soul to make the best of it. We’re all stuck on this often miserable earth where life is essentially tragic, but there are glints of beauty and bedrock joy that come shining through from time to precious time to remind anybody who cares to see that there is something higher and larger than ourselves. And I am not talking about your putrefying gods, I am talking about a sense of wonder about life itself and the feeling that there is some redemptive factor you must at least search for until you drop dead of natural causes. And all the Richard Hells are chickenshits who trash the precious gift too blithely, and deserve to be given no credence, but shocked awake in some violent manner.”

“Either that or be spanked or put to bed.”

-Lester Bangs Richard Hell: Death Means Never Having to Say You’re Incomplete


Thursday, 30 July 2009


The saying 'you're damned if you do and damned if you don't' has been on my mind a lot lately. Being a creative in the creative industry is a complete contradiction in terms. You regard yourself as an 'artist', a passionate believer in the arts, someone inspired by the true artistic greats who can only dream of achieving an iota of your idol's success.

There. There it is. I just heard a rumble of thunder creep in through my bedroom window. A dark reminder that those who forgot their umbrellas today are going to pay. Those who thought leaving the house in flip flops and a t shirt to work would be fine because although office policy is 'no casual', you can sort of get away with it when the weather is really hot and even your boss rolls up his sleeves and takes off his tie.

I've come to the harsh realisation that you cannot be a true creative and work in any sort of 'industry'. You complain about being broke and having no money but at least I am happy as I am doing what I have always wanted to do but then as soon as you get a foot within an inch of a door of opportunity you, and others, accuse yourself of selling out. For some reason, contemplating making money from you art is a DIRTY word. Looking at funding options, big companies with large pockets is SHAMEFUL.

I don't know which way to turn. I cannot cope being on the breadline. I am almost 30 and not having a penny to my name and possibly having to rely on my father whose own salary has now been halved due to his ill health makes me feel ashamed of myself and everything I was meant to achieve. I feel that there is only one escape. A premature escape perhaps but one in which I won't have to worry about my problems and no one else will have to worry about me.

Wednesday, 29 July 2009

On Being Shy

'' One consolation that shy folk can take unto themselves is that shyness is certainly no sign of stupidity...Conceit, indeed is the quickest cure for it. When it once begins to dawn upon you that you are a good deal cleverer than any one else in this world, bashfulness becomes shocked and leaves you .

When you can look round a roomful of people and think that each one is a mere child in intellect compared with yourself you feel no more shy of them than you would of a select company of magpies or orang-outangs*"
By Jerome K Jerome
immensly good observation of life by an immensly cool 19th Century guy.

Monday, 20 July 2009


A doctor on 'Question Time' said that Single parent families are a form of child abuse and that hetrosexual marriage is the answer for all of societies problem.

I just think thats harsh And really we are living in the 21st century.

It just totally reminded me of a book I read when I was a teen,
to summarise there's a post apocolyptic world ran by women where men are bred to look androgynous and are for simply to reproduce and then killed. One woman falls in love with her partner and helps him escape becoming fugitives blah blah was a good book because it left a lasting impression But...

I hope it never resolves to that. Androgynous men? No thanks.



A drug fuelled romance

A fake existence

Perceptions intertwining

Between reality and fantasy

Perhaps once there was hope

Of a better life

Your kiss was so full

Your grip so tight

You wished for solace

But it never came.


Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Attention Whores

As bright and charming as you may try to present yourself
As much as you are well aware that your problems could barely hold a spark to the woes of those surrounding you
Let alone entire nations of civilians thousands of miles away
The smallest part wherever hidden always finds a way to overwhelm the rest of you
It contradicts the way you convince yourself to be seen as

There is always going to be that person
The only one who keeps you from finding sleep at night
The kind that throws you into thoughts fit for dialogue of films you hate
And the soundtrack is always the easiest part
Because the songs you love always said it before you even saw it coming

When that person makes you their smallest part
Behind someone else in where they set their attention
Sleep comes no sooner in an empty bed
It is suddenly so easy to forget about charity
To be selfish rather than selfless
And wish things were simply badly written fiction


A chat show host once said, If you are sharing yourself with more than one person
You will never be able to give any of them one hundred percent of your love
I repeat this to myself sometimes, between the stories of your conquests
In hopes that it stops me from letting you in completely, but I know it will not


Tuesday, 14 July 2009

Monday, 13 July 2009

Heroin Home

Cold, Damp, Scary. Life for some people...

Martin Sure

Saturday, 11 July 2009

Arguments for having multiple lovers

1. You realise quite quickly which one is your favourite
2. The possibilities to explore are infinite
3. You are always in control
4. Emotions are kept at the sidelines, where they belong
5. Life is too short and lots of sex is too good

Friday, 10 July 2009

This Is Like A Slap In The Face / This Is Like An Amputation

I bought Big Black's first EP 'Lungs' on vinyl for $6 in Reckless Records, Chicago. It's been really expensive everywhere else I've looked for it.

Reckless Records is a very cool record shop that originally commenced life in London but now only remains open abroad. I also bought R.E.M's 'Green' album for 49 cents. I'm only a fan of R.E.M's early work. They got really annoying after 1994.

'Lungs' begins with industrial drum beats and a creepy riff. On first listen, it sounds like it's going to be comparable to Suicide. However it is when Albini starts singing that you know you are firmly listening to a pure punk record. The first track 'Steelworker' has the amazing lyrics, 'I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat/See, I'm, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat/See, I'm a, I'm a murderer, I kill what I eat' which conveys the overriding theme of this EP: social disdain and there is a lot of it on here.

Probably, my favourite song on the EP is next - 'Live In A Hole'. A simple, raw staccato riff and painful vocals depict Albini's claustrophobia: 'Live in a room/An empty room/Four walls/White walls/I live in a hole.' Written whilst he was in student dorms, anyone who has lived in squalor accommodation or in Bethnal Green can totally sympathise with this confined space rage. This tune also comes with added saxophone. Anyone who can get away with that on a punk record deserves their God-like status.

'Dead Billy' starts off sounding like a cheap 1980s hip hop record sung by Trent Reznor. I love it. As I get lost in the moment I then realise that this song is in fact about Vietnam. 'Hey little girl in U.S. dress/Come and give daddy kiss/To Dead Billy, U.S. soldier in green/Little lady, napalm butt'. If this song was played to everyone in the world, then upcoming and current dictators would definitely think twice about war as this song would put the fear of God in them as it did in me.

Turning over to Side B and 'I Can Be Killed' is probably the most poppiest sounding song on the album but the lyrics remain dark and confrontational throughout: 'The only way/To keep me quiet/I can be killed'.

'The Crack' follows which is the most well-known song from this EP. The lyrics are bittersweet and extremely moving. What begins as 'I have never been so happy in my whole life/I've been denied this so long, I'm sure it's right' turns to 'I've never been so broken/I've never hurt so much'. Sometimes raw and direct lyrics are just what you need to hear when you feel the same.

The short EP (it IS a punk record after all and I always say that true punk records are less than 30 minutes long) ends on Rip which continues with the theme of war and in this case, those who are ignorant of it: 'He hasn't the sense to know we're fighting'. Like all great musicians, Albini gets his point across with minimum effort and maximum intelligence. His acute social and political commentaries helped to define Big Black as such a seminal punk band.

To those who love this band, I salute you. And to those who feel the urge to explore them, I commend you.