HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

you're the one who grows distant

druqgs

When I look back on my life, I blame drugs for the way it's never really worked out. Not always entirely, but for the most part, I do. I wonder then, why I still do them, after how much I've had robbed from me because of them, and as they slowly start to take from me the only thing I have left (my looks) I contemplate of what importance they ever were to me. Or what purpose I thought they served, and what they actually were serving. I find that I'm a coward for not facing up to life's problems, and for not being able to accept myself, and an idiot for letting something as simple as euphoria escalate into a life sentence.

This week I have been called a number of things, mainly anorexic, but all reference to my weight and how tired I look. Ming told me I looked like a tired, over worked dad in my new Facebook photo.

I feel fed up hopelessly trying to find work, paranoid that they all know who I am, or someone is working against me. I am a constant mistake being made.

I also feel fed up of having to cancel and decline things, especially around Halloween. I can't go to Fran's Halloween party, I can't go anywhere. I can't do anything. I can't even go downstairs to relax without my mom getting her fucking iPad out to talk jobs and to nag about 'what to do tomorrow'.

So am thinking to stop but really stop, shut away for a while, but it's that reclusion that scares me, I am not making a point with that, I can't keep going on like this. If nothing ever goes right for me, and this year is a prime example, then have drugs ever helped? Not really. Then why keep doing them?

Role Models: Bill Murray

Contentment. What contentment?

 

 I feed you every morning and ask so little

 But you belittle all the work that I do

When you take that walk without permission

 I'm not defensive, I'm just saying this cause I love you

 You know I hate it when your friends are in the pool

 Old money stinks, send those faggots back to Forest Hill

 Contentment? What contentment? I am bald and impotent

 Is that what it's about? 

Oh honey, honey, shut your mouth

smoke gets in your eyes

Tokyo Faces: Westwood Boy

Ming (Ben Quach my ex) should wear this:

 photo courtesy of TokyoFaces.com :)

One night, probably out of boredom, Ming and I decided to swap entire outfits to go to the shop in. I'm glad it was just the shop because the jeans I had to wear were so tiny and none-do-up-able, and my bollocks were squashed so hard, that I was put into a horrible mood and couldn't decide what to buy for dinner. Ming however, looked a little swamped, but to me, incredibly cool in my baggy school trousers, shirt and duffel coat, complete with leather satchel. None of it really fit, despite it being the smallest size.

This Tokyo Westwood guy is so cute. Japanese guys look very good in Westwood, and I find the clothes a real turn on even on women. There is something sexy about putting on something that does it all for you. This site I've discovered is great, I love street style of Tokyo, having been a fan of Fruits magazine since it was invented, before most fashion bloggers and street stylists were old enough to be let out on the weekend.

Visit Tokyo Faces HERE

no culture for the wicked

I realised today that I can't write about much without a job or money or my own place, and it's harder to be inspired when the highlight of the day was going to Redditch library. I couldn't find any books by George Orwell or Sylvia Plath but did find every book ever written by Katie Price, including the sexy looking festivity 'Santa Baby'. I grabbed a few books that looked interesting, and the one fiction I chose is called The Gay Divorcee. I've read the first few chapters, it's not great. Will 'review' it next week, if you like.

My shoulder still has a trapped nerve which is very painful. I feel I haven't seen my grandparents for a real visit in days. The post weekend drug guilt has worn off now and I no longer feel embarrassed about certain revelations and conversations or for exposing myself but I do however feel that I should be careful. I am also probably a lot more paranoid about life than I should be.

Some good news slash bad news - brother and Hay have to move out of their flat by the 4th of December after some bogus dispute etc etc, and seeing as I am intending on living with them, I will be living in town, job or no job, by Xmas!! I am inviting Ming to spend Xmas with me, despite everyone saying 'no' and 'who is he?' but I just simply can't stand the idea of someone alone and so far away from everything at Christmas. I will provide him with a loving family, home cooked Christmas treats, a stocking with a present inside and my nubile throbbing naked body pressing against his in a warm cozy bed room for two.

I am thinking, after Christmas, when this has settled, and Ming has gone, and everything is sorted, that I will start 'dating' (like it's easy?). Not, of course if I marry Ming in which case I can forget about dating forever. 

knock it off, Buffy

While i'm not drunkenly getting my cock out and talking bollocks about my social belonging, I am actually wanting to write about art, fashion, photography, music, whatever, and everything else which is more interesting than that or me. I'd have a drink... but it might loosen my tongue. I'd have tea... but I might get sleepy.

I slept till Tuesday after my speedy weekend, and got away with duties unfufilled, escaped to a small flat in Leamington Spa with someone I met once called Frank. We got high.

Halloween is becoming.... what is everyone dressing up as? I ask this rhetorically, because no one ever replies to posts here, and also, no one seems to have any good ideas for Halloween costumes this year, so I will post a few ideas I have over the next fortnight... which you'll be grateful for.

For now though, Mrs. Man, from Scary Movie is an idea I am literally toying with.

My Eyes Are Dry: NARS Exhibit A Blusher for the Eyes

So you've just killed Miss Scarlett with the candle stick in the pole dancing room, and stole this out of her handbag.

NARS Exhibit A is the first expensive make up I ever bought, if not the only make up I've ever bought in my life. The reason I bought it was to make my eyes look demonic on Halloween. However, I think I just wanted red eyes on a normal night out, with my Alexander McQueen scarf that bitch Neil Wayt stole. The eyes smudged, so it turned out to be a terrible faux pas. The mistake I made was that subtle wasn't enough; I just kept putting more and more on.

Red eyes and bloodshot eyes are an unavoidable feature of mine. It can indicate a few interesting facts about me: I maybe sometimes be incredibly stoned. Perhaps I have been crying. Some might suggest I have an association with the Devil, others claim I am just very tired and depressed. Whatever the reason, I get blamed for everything under the sun.

I prefer the sleepy option, like in that ridiculous yet wearable Viktor and Rolf collection. Models wore red eyes with their beds, and instantly I saw a look I wanted in on, to look like I'd just woken up, or better still was about to pass out, possibly to disguise the fact that I was really about to pass out.

The tiniest bit is all you need slowly and gently dabbed around the circumference of the eye. Don't go mad with it. Seems a bit pointless to spend £25 on a blusher you're putting on your eyes for a look that could go either way.

Remember, Exhibit A is actually a blusher, so it can also be used on the cheeks, obviously. I'd use it in this way if I wanted to look like I'd ran from Moor Street Station to Snow Hill and got slapped on the way, twice, separately, on both sides of my face.

For a while Exhibit A served as a place to hide my cocaine. Then one day, it just disappeared. 

What I wore: The best moments are always Westwood moments x

Henry wears shirt by Marni and trousers by Vivienne Westwood

Argento wears nothing

Feels Like Heaven

Kate Moss
Lorraine Pascal
by Corinne Day for The Face 1990

All hail Satan rockin rockin around

Now I know I'm going to be living with Hayley and David in a Dream Apartment of Wonder, four days a taster, now I feel bored and lonely at home. You can wake up and choose your feelings. I constantly dream of my old house on Chestnut. Well, I dream other things. But they are always happening in there. I know this means I am unhappy with here. I'm unhappy because I don't feel like I belong anywhere. I hate having to 'come home', because there isn't anything fun here to do. It's all chores and guilt.

I can wake up and choose my feelings. I can wake up and choose hers. I take things way too personally and follow a mundane to-do list that includes messaging people back on OKCupid that I know I'll never meet. I wonder what the point is with these people. Next is applying for jobs, which has become easier. I still have to write back to Sian, an unfinished letter that is taking me months.

I get texts off the innocent. But I get offended that I don't hear back from people in days, and they respond finally from being so busy, and now they are ill, and they sound like me, but I've already withdrawn now. You missed your chance. I get messages from the cold side, as I come round, and find myself writhing and rubbing myself in my head slowly down and down till a shower slaps me awake and reminds me 'you're still in your own world'.

I am optimistic because I can see lights, and a promise and a future and a life but sometimes I wonder how abnormal can you get?

Give me something cheap, not enough sleep, which one do I keep? My nitelife in the 2nd City

According to Hayley, Gatecrasher's 5th Birthday consisted of music that could of been 'just one long, repetitive song', over priced drinks served in plastic cups and girls who prefer to believe class exists in the wardrobes of prostitutes and porn stars. I didn't go because I already knew it would be like that. It's just a shame Hayley had to pay £30 for a ticket so she could confirm this to me.

 In a preferable basement somewhere

The night before, I was with Wiggy and Goggy drinking a lot in the Village and playing with each other's nipples as predicted. After Goggy vomited blood we decided to go to Chic, our favourite club. It will always be my favourite and the only club I will go to in Birmingham now. At least the slags in there are friendly. That could just be the drugs though.

 

It wasn't terribly busy, and it makes no sense. But then I realised I wouldn't want to persuade outsiders to try out our club, spoiling it for everyone by being complete assholes (or just by being themselves, same difference). They should stay with their own kind, in a superclub that caters for a vast crowd that doesnt know any better, and do not want to know any better.

The confusing thing about it is they're having a part two on the 12th (same DJs). They make so much money, as tickets were sold out this weekend. This comforts me in the knowledge that for one night only the majority of Birmingham's twat-elite will be all tightly confined into one space. I did however laugh when Hayley marveled at the thought that some unlucky twat would be crying they didn't get a ticket in time, when she had one and didn't even want to be there. Let's hope they do us all a favour and stay on Broad Street, or better still, go home.

Home early so Goggy could sift through the sieve of disease that is Grindr while I dutifully took a very long confusing phone call from my Scottish ex boyfriend.

good times keep rollinrollin keep times good

YOUR HANDS AROUND MY THROAT