Thursday, 5 September 2013

write a note to self that i love you and no one else

One of the symptoms of feeling ill like this is suffering from a temperature that in the night can make you have freaky and somewhat terrifying nightmares that you think are real. I just awoke (or was already awake) from a dream where my whole existence was fake, and that the government were waiting for me, my house was a set, my parents weren't real and I was all on and in on some huge government conspiracy theory. So real it was, I ended up having to wake my mom up, crying.

Yesterday I had a funny dream, and enjoyed relaying it to Greg and my mother. The thing about this dream and others I've had are they are simply derived from the sound of my mom in the morning using her new running machine downstairs in the room below my room. So a lot of my dreams in the morning begin or are centralled around that sound and my subconcious mind interprets the sound for my dream differently each time, sometimes simply there is a running machine or a piece of gym equipment in my dream.

 I really liked Greg's other friends


 one of my favourite things to do sometimes is spot the Greg in the background of a mad 3 in 1 photo op.


Yesterday's dream was funny - it starts out with me in the dining room of my old house on Chestnut, but from a really long time ago, as the furniture was from when I was little. I am using a cross trainer and my friend Greg, is sitting at the table. We are both exercising and it looks like I have been making a collage or something crafty. Outside it appears an American academy of some kind are playing cricket. There are lots of nice sexy Americans outside, like some kind of American Eagle advert, and some silver foxes there too. Greg sneaks out of the window, and after being bored on the cross trainer I go outside to find him. When I find him, he is engaged in an intricate orgy with some of these Americans and one of the silver foxes inside the hedge that surrounds the house. I tell him to come down and play with me, and the Americans beg me to let him stay. I argue playfully and ask them who allowed them to play cricket in the front garden of my house anyway to which I am informed my father did. I then ask them what right they had to have a gay orgy in my hedge, and they feel remorseful. Greg reluctantly comes down out of the hedge, and I suddenly announce that 'im gonna tell mom!' He then playfully chases me round the garden, trying to tickle me whilst I laugh like a hyena. Back in the house we head back to the dining room and pass my mom who, in a short moment when Greg isn't there, whispers 'where was he?' and I laughing reply 'where do you think?!' just as he comes back into view. I then wake up, to the sound of my mom on her running machine downstairs.

What is the significance of this dream? Or more importantly what does it mean?

Whether I want him to be or not, Greg is on my mind a lot. A lot of people, usually misinformed or weird sheltered gay types can't understand why a gay guy can have a platonic yet affectionate friendship with another gay guy. I have never been sexually involved with Greg and no feelings of romance have ever been exchanged but beyond that everything else has been- from being forced to kiss him for jokes at a bar to frolicking naked together on a beach. In fact there were times where we enjoyed disturbing friends with our acts of dual nudity. But I guess we've been through a lot.



Everybody is going through something. I may think I have it bad, and it's easy to compare. You can do it with anyone. I could put myself on a scale of how bad things are, to the next person and the next, but it leaves you feeling either like you are doomed or that you have no right to complain.



I believe that Greg has had, probably like me, one of the worst years of his life, a bizarre experience in the form of a relationship that like no other was formed of a base of all things not real. I can relate to the fact that you are sucked into a situation you get used to but that is not right. And it's all over, his whole life is different and in a matter of a day, it's flipped upside down. It's hard to maybe see it like this at first, Greg is proud, he doesn't allow you to see that side of him that suffers but he does suffer, and it's up to me to recognise the signs and to not mix them up with what others might perceive as 'petty behavior'. Greg I think to others is probably easy to dismiss. But they just don't read him properly. He doesn't get the chance.



I would be lying if I felt sad for him. I couldn't be happier. I hated Enzo and Enzo hated me. I was nothing but nice to him like I am from the start to any of my friends partners but he was awful to me and to me represented everything wrong with the westernised modern day mind of the selfish consumer. He made me sick, so I was glad that it was over for them. However, like me, Greg now exists in a place between routine and aimlessness and is learning new and harder lessons with each mistake. It's almost like in two totally different ways, our lives both simultaneously blew up in our faces, right at the same time.

school uniform party, I went to a posh Catholic school, as you can tell
by my rosary beads. Greg went to a finishing school ;)



Wednesday, 4 September 2013

An Honest Update for those who Care?

Dear Readers of which there aren't any who admit they are,

I have decided to come back to Master Bracknell, as I believe it's the only place where I can write about my life! I feel I can blabber on and on as much as I like and be brutally honest, and I really love blogger, and I really miss its down to earth no nonsense... I could go on... but I just googled myself for no apparent reason and the only thing that comes up is a picture of myself posted on this blog somewhere a few years ago. Looking back now, the photo is pretentious and stupid, and it seems ridiculous that THAT photo comes up as the only proof of my online existence. Anyway, got reading old blog, fell back in love, realised the feel, the style, the comedy, the creativity, the longevity of it all... and feel like it's an old friend, and that I have so much to tell that friend, and that's what I am doing, here I am telling you what's been up (and down) and that after a few mistakes, I will carry on writing here.



Firstly, I want to say, that one of the reasons why I am returning is because I've not always been so down on here, and it's instantly given me a lift that I can write here. I am turning a corner of a horrible part of this year as we speak. My posts on here aren't always as harrowing as my life has been at the time. I feel almost compelled to write comically about some of the worst experiences of my life lately. In fact, it makes it easier to address. But, I recently re read Estelle's old LiveJournal, and got in touch with Estelle, we spoke on the phone, and she just seemed completely indifferent to me, distracted, uninterested. Completely. When I mentioned the comfort and laughs I get from reading her old LiveJournal she just seemed annoyed, and when the offer to write to her in Abu Dhabi was made, she was actually quite rude to me. So I feel the nostalgia of her LiveJournal is now no longer a contender to my wonderful journal, my Master Bracknell.

Secondly, and I realise this now as the words flow out, I have the flair here, and the positivity. I feel inspired to carry on and write. I feel maybe it's because I am not entirely sure who reads it on blogger, where as on tumblr and LiveJournal and WordPress you have people following you and hash-tags are important and networking seems to be the only reason, it seems that I was reading a lot more of other people's depressing lives, and didn't know whether I wanted to or not, and whether the recognition I was seeking was genuine or not, whether I was just being influenced by social media and blogging for the reason of being known. Maybe also that the screen is so WHITE on blogger makes me feel happier. I actually NEED to write, always, and made a couple of blogs between the time of my last entry and now, but I addressed my life in a way which was awful, I was writing shit poetry which I never do and I was basically 'coming clean' in a way that one does at a narcotics meeting. There was no forward movement in the writing, and if i didn't want to read what I'd just written then no one else would too, would they?

Thirdly, I think its been enough time now to carry on writing here without certain people reading up on my life. I don't want to know if they are, so if you know that I no longer speak to you and you are reading this now, then I do not want to know. Do not contact me, let me have this please, it means a lot, but I want to write and wont feel like writing here if you comment or make it known that you are still about. It bothers me, and after what Ive been through lately, I think I deserve at least this.

The last time I wrote was 2nd July, and I was at the false start point of a period of time I refer to as my 'recovery'...

After what can only be described as one of the most damaging and bizarre experiences of my life, I lingered at my parents, no job and no place of my own, and there's, a small flat in a hell town called Dickens Heath, was somewhere none of us wanted to be. Unhappy with their mistake, me unhappy with the cunts upstairs, we sold the flat and started renting a small house in a place called  Oakenshaw near Redditch. It's a vast improvement, and  my parents are already on the verge of buying a new house in the nicer area known as Callows Hill. I am no longer planning on moving away, until I am healthy, happy and can afford it. The last 8 weeks or so have been extremely fun and yet been extremely damaging. I have not recovered like I intended to, and the damaging effects of my experience with Steve effected me psychologically more than I thought. Certain friends became cause for my concern, with their own problems, yet I felt impotent because I couldn't be there for all of them, despite my own problems becoming more and more destructive.

During this summer I spent a lot of time bonding with Wiggy, and we went to Brighton, London and numerous nights out in Birmingham. I however let my drug problem escalate to one of it's highest points, and so I guess that with a certain amount of good comes a certain amount of bad, and the bad really did hit me hard, physically and mentally.

The bad involves a lot of rejection or feelings of rejection, and a lot of things from the past this year haunt me still, like the caring for Steve experience and the aspect of dying. Then there was the betrayals at work still poisoning my memory, losing friends from past and present, and recently, an incredibly violent sexual encounter I suffered which nearly put me in hospital and thus highlighted the ironic situation of my dysfunctional sex life. My drug problem hit a all time low when 2 weeks ago I literally passed out from not being able to function any further, due to endless days of not sleeping, drinking or eating. I lost over a stone in weight, and my hair started to fall out. Whole days, weeks have zipped by like minutes, and I've watched myself deteriorate outside and in.

Being back at home is a forced rehab. I know when things get bad because I tell my mother everything. It's going to be hard to say no to Wiggy a lot more but lack of funds and hopefully a job responsibility soon will make it easier to resist social pressures and temptations. I've been incredibly ill, due to the abuse I put myself through, the wandering around in London in the rain for 4 hours, the drugs, the dehydration. I haven't left the house much and have been in bed a lot. I am regaining my strength, and vow not to touch Mcat, or MDMA or cocaine again. I don't want to ever experience a hangover again, but I do want to smoke weed. Cigarettes are so-so. For someone with such a hunger for drugs, who can go past most people's limits, it's surprising how cigarettes seem so take or leave to me. 



My brother is back from Hong Kong, but is going back on the weekend, I got to see him a bit, and he seemed keen to help me in the research of writing screenplays, as I think this is the thing (along with acting) that is predicted as my surprising hobby that pays off at the end of the year. Something filmy anyway. I don't want to overwhelm this post now any further, so will update during the week with future plans, and other stories from the past 8 weeks, that involve an American, meeting a new yet dysfunctional guy, Greg, emotional traumas and revelations of the future!

Monday, 1 July 2013

Friday, 28 June 2013

cleaning your floor with my mind

Already I'm confusing myself with the order of priority and it hasn't even been a full week. There I was saying 2 MONTHS of rest, and I'm already not bored but thirsty to start everything. I am an Aries after all, and like to get stuck into things fast. I should use some of that well earned patience I have and take a step back. I want so much from my life, and I don't feel like each day that goes by I am missing something, but I don't feel right just sitting around. I can't really go anywhere, most places I used to inhabit now are off limits and have too many bad memories and people attached to them. Like the time when I went over to my brother's off Newhall Street the day after I had to leave my job and narrowly missed bumping into Kyle and his cunt boyfriend as I turned the corner, whilst thinking 'wouldn't it be terrible if...'. I walk round this apartment feeling so angry sometimes, I feel so angry, so taken advantage of and so at a loss. I know that I need to be working out a list of things to do really, I need to be resting yet being productive. I did find that episode finally of 3rd Rock from the Sun with the bit at the fake family reunion where Sally eats the ice cream because she feels left out, I always remembered that bit for some reason. I think I just felt really sorry for her, but when I first saw it, I didn't even realise they were all aliens, so the show didn't make a full amount of sense.

Yesterday my mum bought be a Simpsons comic (yeah, go ahead and laugh) and usually I am disappointed by them but I didn't want any of the magazines from the extensive collection that WHSmiths in Sutton Coldfield has on offer. I contemplated a gay one, what with wanting to be more 'gay' and 'fit' and all but they were top shelf and next to the porn, one of the archaic reasons why I still hate Sutton, a bit like the fat woman walking through Gracechurch wearing a t-shirt with 'YOLO' on the front. The women's magazines were boring, I only ever read the international Vogues anyway, and Hunger magazine, a bi-annual which I got last year had Jessie J on the cover, which was upsetting. The trendy magazines patronise me, I don't need to be told how to be cool, because it's not my version of cool anyway. And if I want fashion and music and films, I have the internet. A photography magazine seemed pointless as I STILL don't have my camera. I considered getting Spirit and Destiny but I don't buy that for pleasure, and seeing as I already know I'm in for 'uncomfortable family times' during July (according to my year forecast in January) and seeing as I want a nice clean break from my life as it's been, a comic seemed quite appropriate. Something to cheer me up. I have been feeling very low lately.

I used to buy Simpsons comics all the time. Mostly the sketches are crap but I read them in my head in the voices of the characters and think they are funny. In London, comics were my choice of tube reading. It was easy and relaxing, as the tube made me nervous. This month it came with Haribo sours and a sticky alien catapult. I won't open it till I've moved to my own place.

I have started writing back to Sian, but am taking my time as it's a pleasure. I have got the books I want to use for research in planning my new healthy meals and diet. I have a laptop to use to write my CV and I have joined an accommodation website to advertise myself looking for a room. I have updated everything I need to really, and I feel like I want to change. I have films I want to watch and things I want to write, a body I want to change and skin I need to clear, jobs to apply for and a place to finally go to, there are new friends to be made and men to be met, confidence to be built, connections to be created. I just need to prioritise. I feel overwhelmed, and to top it off I feel rough still. I just need to relax and calm down. These posts are so bland with no photos. But I haven't been taking any. I have the moodboard for August, which I'm hoping to post soon on FR. It's all about going back to basics and reconciling myself with normal stuff, closing in the distance I put between myself and 'normal' style, to bring myself back down to earth. But it's a way of clearing the slate in that field, so I can change properly in the future. I want to change everything about myself, but still be myself, if that makes sense. I want to be a better, happier, healthier and nicer person, it's overwhelming but I want to try now.


Wednesday, 26 June 2013

you manly, you

All things change for a reason. Sometimes people push the change. I'm fine with that if it's beneficial to me, to which it has been. My life has resumed a new and interesting level of normality and I am getting on with it, and with patient gusto, and with no high expectations.

Last week saw me attend to duties of my usual caring variety and a routine that I have now become fully accustomed to. A night in on Summer Solstice brought salad and croissant pudding. The evening was summery and beautiful and I made up for the loss of dancing round a tree half naked with Mark by watching 'Panic Room'.

Earlier in the day I went on an extremely disappointing date with a guy whom I had exchanged long detailed and meaningful messages with on OK Cupid, the only dating website that I have any faith in. I pretended to be going on a date with Bethan, just because, regarding past situations, it was easier to lie about who I was with and what I was doing as to not stir jealousy triggered behaviour to which I have no control over how to respond to. I could do as I've been told and just 'be honest' but where has that ever got me in this situation? Nowhere good. The irony of it is, my lies are revealed through clever social media sleuthing, introduced by myself.

The person I met was one of those whose online persona did not match the actual person. Online, the person engaged at length with me, and had opinions and interests that excited me, someone near enough my age with something decent to talk about. He was from China and grew up in New Zealand so I figured he would have a lot to tell about his childhood and family. Instead he was awkward, and one worded, never asked me anything, not even the same questions after I asked them first. At first I thought he was painfully shy, but the shyness seemed to evolve into more of a condescending smugness. I am not complaining though, I have just remembered now as I write, how much I enjoyed writing about my dates, especially the bad ones.

That's not to say that I enjoy bad situations just because I know I'll be able to write about them later. I think I was disappointed because it has simply been so long since I met someone and I was so excited. We'd been in contact for a while and I truly thought that after my current situation of the moment had passed that I would have someone to share my time with. How wrong I was. During my weekend alone a week or so ago, I was bored and wanted to go on ChatRoulette as I have an obsession with Americans. But more times than not on Chatroulette you'd just meet vile people, usually boring American female types who think everything outside the Abercrombie and Fitch rota is weird, and I wanted to talk to Americans who were male and gay so I did a search and ended up chatting on a special roulette for gay guys which had an option to just select America. I ended up meeting a guy called Galen, a violinist from North Carolina who happens to be travelling to Europe at the end of the summer. Talking to him was a comfort and made me realise how desperately I just want to get out, travel and meet people, but to especially meet guys like him. It's so frustrating knowing that it's not you that's the problem, it's the place you're in and the people who fester in it.

On Saturday I had arranged to go to Sammi's mum's birthday party and had a great time getting to finally meet more members of her family. I ended up having everything justified to myself. Sunday morning was condemnation, an awful collection of things, and unforgiving doom caught in the rain. The colour had drained out of the day and every person in it, and I experienced an emotion that I have never felt before, and for which I struggle to put my finger on.

Even though I shiver when he calls my name, still I can't reveal myself to a real sorrow. Every day I come home late and I look away, staring at a screen with plans to change tomorrow. I urge to say what he needs to know, but I can't explain, I've a loss for words.

Monday was spent thinking and sleeping. I was dreading the moving of all my life, the confrontation and the use of excess energy to move stacks of magazines and books. Luckily it was easy, and my belongings had been kindly organised for me. I felt touched by this actually, though I think maybe it was also a sign of how urgent it was to expel me. For whatever reason, I was in and out in a shot and all I need to get back now is my camera, my only prized possession, my pride and joy.

I carried on with a stressful and weirdly emotional 'first day of the rest of my life'. I went through an emotional process beginning with the new and scary emotion which I have no name for. I have since gone on from despair and anger to appreciation and love and yet anger creeps back quickly whilst I verbally confirm each detail that as embittered me. It's a way to accept something and then move on, I don't succumb to the unhealthy habit of dwelling on the unfortunate. I bought Paris and Sammi flowers and cakes and a card to say thank you for being great friends to me, for supporting me and understanding that sometimes we are all plagued. And they have caught me when I fell. One of the many things I've learnt from this experience is the importance of a friendship that is real and solid. Maybe I wasn't a good friend to some, but I have my reasons and I think deep down, no matter how much we hate to admit it, those reasons are valid.

Today however felt like the real first day. A fresh new haircut, and plans to become healthy and put on weight and develop muscle, an active and attractive lifestyle, and freedom from the shackles of my vices and addictions, and the full effort to embrace the art of moderation. Appreciation for the things that my situation has since made me forget about, and the appreciation for things that I simply over time ceased to notice, like reading and blogs, learning, and actually reading my email updates, and celebrations and seasons. I just discovered a shop near my parents that stock every possible Yankee Candle fragrance. I feel like I am in rehab, writing letters to friends, clearing out old or bad memories, making space for the new, updating the profiles, the places, the status, the way to go, changing the direction to up, and forward, indulging in whats nice and looking to what's good, involved in crafts and not taking the little things for granted, looking at the details and eating healthful food. Who knows, I might crochet a blanket. In fact, I think I will. Catching up with friends, near and far. Skyping with Galen while his music mixes with mine, watching him move and go about his room, a comfort in the form of a virtual postage stamp in the right top corner, a reassuringly blurred image. And also to write... my blogs, my stories... I think without having the freedom to write, I would go insane.

Tonight I will watch the Chinese film 'Happy Together'. After finally watching the end of Misery, a somewhat reversed role of a possible prophetic consequence I only feared in my worst nightmare, I have decided to enjoy a film that I only got to enjoy once and tonight it will signify the beginning. I shall leave you on that note, and I shall wish you a good evening. X.

Saturday, 22 June 2013

remembering You / Me

I'm in the long-winded process of writing a post about the gay porn industry and certain pop cultural references of the 80s, and it's important relevance to one other and also funnily my future. However it has become an extensive essay and has taken me days to edit and fix because it's a touchy subject and I think that it's important that I put down what I want to say in the best possible way without people assuming that I am either going to run off and become a prostitute or that I am going to end up a crack addict and shoot myself in the head. I'm just thinking out loud remember.

I really want to write about my week though for the sake of writing because I have been reading a few other personal blogs that I follow and I feel suddenly inspired. The only thing missing really are things to write about that have photos to accompany. Last weekend Steve was still in hospital. Very late on the Saturday night, after I had finished cleaning and sorting out the flat for his return, I was convinced by Sammi to join her for drinking games at a friend's house on Chester Road. Monday, we had Steve return and it was great. I think he was impressed with the new arrangement of his home. Things are less cluttered and easier to clean.

I have a lot in my mind to write about, and I am really just writing this post to remind myself. I still have to edit the post I'm working on and I want to write about my plans on Steve's legacy, Steve's story and what it's like to be looking after someone with cancer. In no way do I want to turn into a cancer motivational speaker, but it's something I want to write about here, not focusing on cancer as such but just the plain fact of someone dying from a terminal illness. It has created a lot of scary conflict in my mind. Perhaps writing in here will help me. I sometimes stop and wonder what the hell I am going to do, and I really can only imagine what his mother and family, and what he himself must be looking to now. Sometimes it rouses emotions so new and unsettling I feel like I am going to be sick.

I want to write about how it might of changed me. I find myself so different, so desensitised by trivial problems that normal people suffer daily, yet I am developing a huge sympathy for loss of life, and I think it's creating a meaningful structure to my life. I don't want to turn dismissive on people's problems, but at the moment I can't relate to them. I also want to write, one day in the future, of the impending build up of responsibility, the tremendous pressure and the complexities of the situation I am in regarding caring for Steve, emotionally, morally and psychologically. I want to talk about each friend I have, and where they stand with me in my mind during this time, and how they have helped, and how I have began to understand their personality, their character through introducing them to Steve, like presenting a king with goods from afar. I want to be frank, and explicit, and I want to be honest to myself. I will write it all down during this year. I will hopefully continue to flourish the blog with more of the usual updates of what I am up to, and more photos. But I need to remember about all I want to write, and their contexts. Don't let me forget.

Sunday, 16 June 2013

homework

Somewhere between hopelessness and optimism lies my life. And it seesaws up and down between confliction and confidence neurotically, never settling in the middle. Next to being addicted to any drug that is available to me, I have finally ran out of money. I still find myself haunted by the betrayal that resulted in me losing my job, and my still receiving of news both voluntarily and by chance of the leisure and happiness of my ex boyfriends and their new boyfriends, whilst my old boss, who is also a close friend, openly socialises with the the very person who pushed me out and replaced me. I often wonder, which is worse? I try to fend off cabin fever with writing my new fashion blog but find myself disheartened. And now I look at my project critically and I feel like a joke.

It's this utter contempt that I have for the world that reassures me. I may be one of a few like minded people but I never feel lonely or isolated. I used to feel like an alien on my own planet but now I just think that most people are stupid, or greedy, and always usually both.

Sometimes, I find myself staring into space, wondering what bollocks Kyle spends the new salary that was once mine on. As I scrape together copper to pay for drugs just to get me through, a walking I.O.U, I see him sitting there, a thin layer or flubber stretched over an awkward structure of faggot, pasty and unforgiving, playing some waste of life computer game wearing a bag designed for Japanese pre-schoolers. And I just want to smash my head into the wall.

 When the much anticipated and expected breakdown arrived last week, overdue and pushed forward, trying to keep my head above water became increasingly difficult when I caught glimpses of myself sweating and gurning with Kyle and that cunt Cassie stuck in my head, discreetly celebrating a victory with ugly knowing glances and twatty high-fives. If anything it's them that pushed me over the edge. And I curse them both.

However the best revenge is success and although Cassie is no match to me, she's that much of a cunt, my naturally shallow reassurance regarding Kyle is simple: he is ugly. I am not.






Saturday, 1 June 2013

a group of crows is called a 'murder'

It's been a nice week for a number of reasons involving catching up with family, helping Steve's mother with shopping and going for coffee and planning the whole life rehaul thing for myself and my own mother. Things are nice here and calm and Steve and I are enjoying each day in the ways we usually do, and I have been feeling that I am a lot more of a better carer, but always first and foremost Steve's best friend, fulfilling every duty a best friend does and fending off the fake fair-weathered friends who should know better. They're old enough. 

Tuesday was a dull day and it rained, I got my act together and made a start on the last bit of stuff we're trying to flog. I have decided to not sell the Victorian clock on the mantel piece and I got to hear it chime and I found it enchanting. We watched the programs about Anne Boleyn and Thomas Cromwell and watched a really entertaining episode of Come Dine with Me. One thing I noticed about the Anne Boleyn documentary was that female historians dress really nicely and wear interesting jewellery. The female historians also took the side in the argument that she was framed for all the things she was accused of, and I wish I could have an opinion on what really happened too, but it's history and the fact is none of us were there, none of us will ever know the truth so I just can't decide when so many different scenarios could be plausible.



On Wednesday we had our delivery of Perry Barr's finest oregano, and smoked and watched The Kings Speech, a film about King George VI played by Colin Firth. The film focuses on how the king had to cope with a stammer, and sees a guy called Lionel Logue, an Australian speech therapist played by Geoffrey Rush. The men become friends as they work together, and after his brother abdicates the throne, the new King relies on Logue to help him make his first wartime radio broadcast on Britain's declaration of war to Germany. It got me thinking about how well spoken people were those days, and I love Helena Bonham Carter. I want to make more of an effort with pronunciation, and believe old fashioned etiquette, intelligence and speech are equally endearing features as an interesting outfit of clothes can be sometimes these days.



We watched a film directly after called W.E, which was interesting and at times confusing, leaving me thinking I was watching the Kings Speech still as characters from that were depicted in W.E. I found it a really strange film, ready to be disliked because it was made by Madonna. Anything Madonna post-circa 2001 is a kiss of death. The film however is I admit a good effort, I just found it just that little bit too perfect, too much. I never really found the story of Wallis Simpson historically interesting either. I didn't feel sorry for those people at all, and the film begged sympathy. I don't have sympathy for people's woes in love. I'm sorry.

Wednesday had me up early, dressed up nicely and went with Steve's mother to Sutton to get the food shopping, and to have a coffee. It's very important I get to go out like that, and also important for me to spend time alone with Steve's mother, as I will be supportive of her in the future. I let the age gap which would instinctively have you behaving differently effect how I was with her. I felt it was good to be open and honest about who I am and my life, and to someone older than my own parents, it's great to not have them disapprove or give me unwanted advice. She is just as much of a friend now than any of my others, and I have an equally good time with her than I would with say, Daisy or Paris or whoever. We went to Costa, then went to Smiths and I talked about magazines. I am not really fond of English magazines anymore.

I dropped into the House of Frazer because I came up with the idea of what to give Emma for her birthday at the end of the month. Naturally, I have been invited out for cocktails, and in a bar environment I think it's always awkward when you have to hold onto a big present or a gift bag whilst your getting drunk. So I am getting her a Chanel lipstick, a nice traditional red, which she can pop into her handbag. It's a nice touch, and there's probably someone somewhere who has quoted how every woman must have a Chanel lipstick. The colour I am getting her is called 'Gabrielle'. If she doesn't wear it, at least it will look good on a dressing table (preferably next to a bottle of Chanel No5).

On Thursday I saw my mother who is much better and she told me lots of interesting things I am not allowed to talk about. I told her that soon everything will be fine and OK and that I will eventually live with her and dad if the arrangement is suitable and if she chooses a location not completely remote. I saw my nan and grandad, my cousins and aunt and uncle. I got to talk to everyone, and was talking to Julie about Adrian and about caring, having a lot to talk about and have in common with because she cares for Adrian properly now. She said she'd come and see me, so I am looking forward to that. Everyone still talking about Florida which makes me jealous and they still go back to our old villa at Sunset Lakes. Nan told me that she has a load of gay friends over there. How is it she gets to meet gay American men and I don't? I want to save up so I can go there and not come back, marry myself off or something, but I also really want to splash out this year on a new coat for winter. I want to spend more on the one that has lasted me the past 2 years, and it cost me £300. I am thinking about spending around £900-£1000 this year. I would have to gradually save the money up each month (200 at a time) as of now, and live at home without paying rent, saving money. Or I could get a boyfriend and live at his free of charge without him realising, in the airing cupboard or something.

Thursday evening was lovely as Bethan and Arran came over for dinner and we ended up getting drunk and then we had a Tramadol sesh which involved me not being able to move properly. I renamed tramadol 'tranny doll'. It makes me feel woozy, like a bad tranny at the end of the night, wobbling and wondering whether to go to the after club or just to go home alone, like usual.


Sunday, 26 May 2013

deadbeat summer


 Paris' birthday card from Me and Steve

When I last posted, a week ago, I addressed the problem of my mother being in hospital and was really just reassuring myself instead of updating an invisible audience. If there is anyone reading on a regular basis who may of struck up a fictional yet genuine concern for the well being of my mother, I can safely inform you that apart from another scare in the week which acted as a blessing in disguise, my mum is now much better. I spoke with her on the phone however and discussed that soon, we will assess our lifestyles together, and I will eventually clean myself up from my 'addictions'.

On the Sunday last weekend Daisy came over and she took some photos. I hadn't slept for 48 hours, and experienced an almost nervous panic before she arrived, leading me into thinking that I had to address some severe drug problem, like a heroin addict meeting up with their parents for the day, hiding their dirty addiction, Daisy being that higher being, an authorative mom figure arriving with a black bag of high-tech professional photographic equipment.

I cannot believe how great Daisy's photographs were, and it really hit home how I not only miss my Leica, but want a new camera and computer myself. It also reminded me how inexperienced I actually am with photography, especially the technical side, yet I am reassured with the knowledge that I am asking all the right questions. Daisy is the perfect person to ask said questions and to discuss this, along with other subjects, and has always an opinion I consider highly. Naturally I consider a lot of opinions, and like to hear about what everyone thinks, the difference with Daisy's is that her opinions are often based on fact and I can count hers to be reliable.


 These are by Daisy. Mum would probably like the first one, but not the second


The photo's she has taken are for my new fashion blog I started recently. She won't be taking the photos permanently, this was just a very kind gesture and I was so psyched to be able to post something finally after waiting so long, with excellent quality photos that I love. I intend to take a lot of the photos myself, though I want to work with other people, maybe encourage some friends to take up photography as a hobby, and who knows, maybe someone might discover a hidden talent. In the same way, I want to take photos of other people for the blog in the future, getting good looking friends to model for me to show my photo skills and visual on style. For now I am enjoying a slow, basic and simple start, addressing the bare bones of how I think on how to dress. I think there is a real theory behind it all and want to explore that, and prove that fashion is more than a shallow fancy or a multi billion industry, that it can be something intelligently creative and life effecting.

 In a hiding place

The blog is called Fashion Retribution - almost like a pay back to all the terribly dressed people I have had inflicted onto me, the hundreds of fashion blogs for men pushing the same bollocks, and this is like a punishment, what I am doing, what I am showing, for people like that. Its not that I need the punishment myself, or even that I am doleing it out, though I've had my fair share of disillusions, but maybe someone might read it and think afterwards that they don't need to wear a fucking dickie bow or go without socks with their shoes to look 'good' in, say, the street, or a nightclub.

At the Burning and Birthday party


Apart from patiently and methodically writing that I have spent the week turning the living room of Steve's flat into my little 'bedsit', with stuff everywhere, watching '3rd Rock From the Sun' and getting fashion inspirations from all sorts of different places. I soon turned the room back into it's original state again as on the spectrum of cleanliness, organization and being tidy, Steve and I are polar opposites, and what's normal to him is obsessive compulsive to me. But I do appreciate the tidy more now that it's done... last night he got to sit in the living room for what seemed like the first time all week and we watched 'Falling Down' and Simpsons movie. 'Falling Down' is one of the best films I think of all time, and is probably Michael Douglas' best performance, but that's just my opinion. I'm not a massive fan of him, in fact, right now I can't think of anything else he's in off the top of my head, but I am a bit stoned. Which is good because I need to lower the stress levels. Finishing the week off with a film where the main antagonist is the archetypal white angry male on a spree of violence across Los Angeles in the early 90s really was the approriate touch to end on. And what I learned from Marge in the Simpsons movie about anger is that like a woman, I can potentially just hold on to it.
"Now you're gonna die, wearing that silly little hat. How does it feel?"


Though this has nothing to do with Steve. I get cabin feverish, who wouldn't? It's natural to go a bit crazy sometimes, and cannabis does help to chill me out and really open up my brain. There's so much in there, I need to dispose of it somehow. Steve is never a burden to me, but an inspiration, and I feel his influences have really opened up my intelligence and maturity as I feel I have been taught of the enthusiasm and the pleasure of all history, architecture, design, interiors, nature, flowers, and has as a result influenced me on a fashion level, creating a raw and organic reference of inspiration to how I am currently dressing. I have nothing but thanks and appreciation, because now I appreciate things on a deeper level and from a historical point of view. He's really been a very stylish influence to have.

a silly hat

He has recently started having headaches which have been caused by cancer travelling from it's main mother ship and killing off the other areas of the body, and I learnt it can travel up the spinal cord and effect the brain, so Steve has these occasional blindingly excrutiating headaches and needs me to help him everywhere. I've encouraged him to not stop using and exercising his brain, and through periods of release with smoking weed, I get him to write. He's writing his own blog, and we wrote some funny poetry. He used to have a bell to ring when he needed me, but we replaced it with a plush cuddly toy bird, a blue-tit, that tweets loudly when you squeeze it. It was a present from Evil Lizzy.


I was interupted last night though not by the bell or tit, but by my phone ringing excessively. I hate to admit it but where a lot of my anger was triggered this week was from people in contact with me on my phone, and I'm letting it get to me because I feel the more I ignore people despite the situations im facing, the more likely they are going to insult me and leave me. Though its not abandonement I am worried for, it's the harsh words and the guilt I would feel. I sometimes get so annoyed with certain friends, mainly the ones who aren't that close and who I never see that often anymore and who never listen and don't understand and think that I can just drop everything to get drunk and listen to them repeat themselves on something trivial like being ugly or having boyfriend problems... people who's main conversation topic is their relationship or lack of and therefore life mission to obtain one... I think it's rude that I sit there over coffee and listen to all the dates and bollocks you line up for yourself and have the manners to remember the mundanity you ooze out because hey, isnt that the fucking point?-but for you to completely forget that my time is entirely consumed looking after a friend who is terminally ill and that in fact it's a simple thing to fucking remember, and then to insult me to ask me if I have 'a new man', really makes me wonder.

Bethan ringing me was comical though, because I didn't answer, but I had forgotten that I had changed my phone ring to this spooky alien ghost jingle and it went off right next to my head while I was just gaining access to that deep sleepy dreamy land. It scared the shit out of me.

Anyway apart from all that, I have been listening to a lot of music, looking for new stuff but ended up listening to songs from the list I made 6 months ago that summed up the songs of last year. I was in the kitchen and that song 'somebody i used to know' came on. If it wasn't for my ex, i'd never listen to it like I did the whole way through. I don't even like it: it's the typical Urban Outfitters love tripe, it's like a 'broken heart' wrapped in a plaid Hollister shirt under an Ikea bed next to a copy of Nylon Guys. But it got me thinking because it reminded me of my ex so bad before, it would send me into a panic but I didn't feel anything, and I thought that was good going. But then I realised it was 2 years ago, not 1 year, like I initially thought in my stoned haze there in the kitchen, that I was with someone properly and all that shit began. Time really has gone by two quick yet there is actually such a lot of change to show for it.

 

I started thinking about how I now feel about relationships and because of what I specifically went through, not that it was any more dramatic or pathetic as anyone else's, I was offered the opportunity, maybe subconciously to change my attitude towards that supposedly big part of an adult human's life in a way that was acceptable yet completely different. You could argue that now I may have become bitter, but I don't spit at other people's relationships if they are good. If they are bad I don't acknowledge it to myself either in that way, I don't need reassurance or even status alone to being single, but I realise how much better from looking at other people's bad relationships that it is to not be involved at all if there is at least one fatal flaw in the connection. I just wish I had realised whatever it is I realised 10 years ago. If I had, ironically I'd probably be with someone but be completely unaware that it is supposed to be a specific feature of my life.

I feel now there is a bigger life out there for me, and as much as I love playing home owner here at Steve's, deep down I am anxious to meet people and experience things and do things and go places, rather than for the reason to meet people to be known, but to learn more about anything. That way a life connection to a guy will present itself to me, and unknowingly I will start something that would last forever, without even realising it.

 Another by Daisy. How do you reference other people's work? with a link or something?



Saturday, 18 May 2013

five seconds to your heart

My mother had a heart attack, a mild one, but an attack all the same, and while she stays over at City Hospital tonight, I rushed back to nothing but an emergency to stop thinking and panicking. So to take my mind off things I will write here, because whats this blog for if for not getting my thoughts and and clarifying my mind? As the space coyote once said, 'clarity is the path to inner peace'.

kiss you off

Whilst hanging out in hallucinogenic landscapes the coyote delivers a wise message. To stop the mind from cluttering and confusing you need to step back and wipe the page clean and just put you and the problem on the page alone, to solve and then move forward.

Yeah, I could be pitying the situation and think why me? shouting nooo out the window and holding my cranium in my hands, heavy and sorrowful. I could cyber stalk my ex boyfriends and think 'that could of been me', but that's just stupid. Why would I be letting the unnecessary clutter of life's pointless problems spill out onto the action plan of a problem I desperately need to solve?

My mother isn't some chain smoking, alcoholic beached whale with a penchant for deep fried battered hot dogs, though I admit her diet is not balanced and she does absolutely no exercise, I have remade it my mission to save her. I want to put her on a specific diet similar to mine (after of course I've kicked my sugar addiction) and spend time exercising with her so her little heart can expand freely without something blocking it again.

severe bob

So now, thanks to you, am thinking positively because if i was to worry and be negative the energy could have an undesirable effect on the situation and I believe positive energy can heal, so I need to show her the face of change and that it smiles and is proactive in making things all better again.

Get well soon Mother!


Monday, 13 May 2013

you're still not in your own world

i have made the concious serious decision to improve my health today. i will make the following small changes to my lifestyle

exercise by doing x10 sit ups and press ups a day to build up stamina and to tone my muscles and to go swimming because its very good for you and i want to buy some new swimming trunks. I want to also learn and practice some basic massage. i want to eat more chicken, less red meat and cut out all sugar and caffeine and complex carbs with the exception of fridays which will bring us pizza and milkshake. you have to be able to enjoy yourself once a week. I will have a big healthy breakfast each day. Instead of sugary cups of tea and sugary juice I will have water and herbal tea with honey and smoothies in the morning. along with the exercise and slight change in diet I want to concentrate on maintaining my self as I have a tendency to 'let myself go'. And then to top off the change I am going to do something to help my mind, so I am going to involve myself more in my new 'hobby' and read my tarot more.






I have got Steve really psyched about photography and we have been taking photos all weekend. I am impressed. We also spent a lot of time relieving pain, and throwing away stuff.



Last week was kind of depressing by default. It rained not that I noticed that much at the time but I went to see Uncle Adrian and Lynne Lawerence at good hope , and it was depressing. I am glad that I am able to enable Steve to die in the luxury of his own home. Lynne wasn't even awake, it was very distressing. I have been also been experiencing slight self pity which is stupid and ridiculous and doesn't make any sense. I saw Greg on Wednesday and got horrifically drunk, ending up fighting with some down and out mess drinker like a lout. Why am I so angry.

Anyway I am now motivated and productive so no more of that. I am going to enjoy this week. I still know how to have fun and there is a part of me that I am simply not going to allow to fade.

Saturday, 4 May 2013

floor to floor

my camera is still being repaired so I am becoming ever more frustrated without now I've set up my new fashion blog as I can't post anything without decent photos. I tried with some pictures taken on my phone and it just doesn't cut it. earlier, i helped steve sort out all his clothes, of which he had many, and discovered a number of things that I really like and am looking forward to wear, such as a pair of vintage 1940s trousers which are the exact fit that I am looking for but is not available anywhere affordable, and some shirts and stuff. So because of that I want to post even more. I'm not sure what the intention is with the fashion blog though it would be nice to make money off it (especially now I am unemployed). I feel differently about it compared to the lame attempt I made a few years ago. HAving done my research I realised before that I was doing it all for the wrong reasons, and making all the main mistakes. I'm optimistic with this attempt as I have improved my writing style, and it's also a place to exhibit my photography skills I apparently have, as well as my styling and editorial ideas.

anyway thats all i'm going to say on that. I've moved out of Pussy Palace, for financial and carer reasons. Whats the point in paying for a room (a  lot as well) that I am literally never in? I loaned my furniture to Sammi and am going to stay with steve to ensure maximum care and comfort (for him).

not a lot else has happened. I saw Hayley and my brother yesterday, and had a really nice time catching up with Hayley.

Without a job my life is pretty easy...So I don't have a hell of a lot to say. Oh we watched Dont Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead earlier. that always makes me feel like I want to lie my way into a job that I'm not qualified for.

Sunday, 28 April 2013

Day more dreadful than lugubrious darkness


i would offer you a drink but i haven't got any ice



I dont feel like updating about the last two weeks. All I will say is that I left my job and have spent about two weeks resting and getting over a year and a half of being bullied, sabotaged and conspired against at work, and two weeks did the trick. I may not have a job, but I took the quick mile and decided that I would like to retain some dignity and self respect than endure a place where I am humiliated by staff who smile falsley to my face and lie and deceive about my work standards behind my back. I don't want to work with people, in particular one person who will go to any length to claim my position, and another sick individual who stands beside, fuelling the rumour mill to keep the shit freshly stirred. Not at all.

So I am going to write about me now and me in the future.

As for work, I will after the weekend start looking for something easy and part time. I am hoping to start receiving carer's allowance for looking after Steve. My actual help is required more now as Steve is finding it harder to do things. This in turn has forced me to reassess my priorities and dedication to the responsibilty, and by the way things went the last weekend at Pussy Palace, I want to spend as much time at Steve's as possible, I am going to go with the flow and be where I can see him. My presence is needed as much as possible now, at every free moment. There will be times where I will leave him for the night to drink red wine in my room at Pussy Palace, and prance around to music infront of my mirror, but otherwise I am here. I am looking for a small single floor bed, something on a tatami mat, Japanese, to have in the room with him so I don't have to share anymore and so I can sort my back out. I hate sleeping on beds, and more so I hate sharing beds, with anyone. Even boyfriends. I have a mental list in order of discomfort, of friends I have shared beds with. Greg is pretty difficult. Steve is not so bad, I have my side - he has his.

I have just started a fashion/fashion photography blog, a place where I can show case my photos and talk about what I think fashion and style is and how I live within it, how it is a productive and positive influence in my life, how it can free from being shallow and conceited and how personalities and intelligence can be applied to how we dress every day. Instead of typical fashion blog pictures which literally show 'what I wore today' I want to feature the looks and styles through editorial style photos, creatively, sometimes on other people, in unusual settings with obscure stories behind the set-up. I really want to start posting, I'm pretty much set up, the domain works and everything is ready, all I need to do is look into copywrite, and creating a logo and a heading, a real look for it, but it's early days and those things are left to be considered further down the line when I hopefully start to make a name for myself and have substantial material to exhibit. However I can't really do much as my camera is still in repair, and I am a little intimidated on where to start and how much work it seems will have to go into some of these photos, but I suppose I've got to start somewhere and have to be open minded about how things turn out from the beginning. You can only but improve with stuff like this.

I have deleted ALL profiles, including Facebook. No way do I want to find or start anything romantic with a man in or from Birmingham. The accent cuts through me anyway, and I eventually want to immigrate anyway. I have however created an OKCupid profile for the opportunity to have a pen friend style friendship abroad with the hopeful prospect one day of meeting people on travels. I often fantasise about who I might end up with and want to be 100% open to meeting someone by the end of the year. One thing I learnt is how valuable taking time is with these things. We can't fully love, or trust, or be our true selves with someone unless we have taken as much time as possible getting to know this person, often in circumstances that aren't comfortable or typical. But I do like to day dream and often think that the guy I will meet that will grab my attention for good will not be English. He will be American or German or Spanish or French, and will understand me on a level that I feel no English person can, because of the damaged social structure we live in here. I feel I am often scrutinised and summed up straight away, no one is free for a chance, or to experiment personally with. We are all up for judgement here.

Deleting Facebook is a good idea though, being on there did nothing for me. I was constantly harrassed by an ex with mutiple profiles, and I was sick of the fact I was associated with some people on my friends list. I don't miss it and shan't create a new one. If I meet people on the way in my life, I will keep in touch with them like a normal person: by phone or by email. Or I might just write a normal letter to them using one of those things, what's it now... a pen. Or I might just visit them. Seeing people is much better than being friends with a picture of your friend.

I don't have a lot more to say really apart from that my time will be consumed with job searching and business building. I will allow my creative juices to flow freely and all over the place. While I'm being disciplined, I may as well review my diet and my lifestyle and start using some free time to being healthy, and change my body. I need a haircut, I saw an interesting looking barbers in the arcade in town, where the tobacconist and pen shop is. May give it a try, see what happens.

Saturday, 13 April 2013

Sunday, 24 March 2013

they warned me the devil was attractive

Some might argue I have experienced a week in Hell, I say it's all part of the challenge, and the more shit life throws at me, the more I surprise myself with how I now deal with it after the initial angry reaction to it (anger runs in the family). I received a text message off my ex Cameron which went a bit like this:

Hi Andrew. You don't have to reply blah blah blah. I saw you browsing Hawaiian Tropic (label name drop). I wanted to give you a hug, for some reason. I wanted to tell you about everything that I have been up to because it's more important that you know how I'm doing and the progress it looks like I've made on the outside. You were my best friend (probably because no one has been crazy enough to give you that much of a chance before). I want to chat to you as my friend. And more over the top flattering stuff, like thanks and sorry.... you get the picture.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy to hear from him, and I give people so many chances and believe that people deserve it, and when they desperately plead they have changed, the good nature I possess feels sympathetic for them, and the friend that I can be comes out: loyal, open minded, non judgemental and always good for a laugh. I liked the idea of putting the past behind me, as I am forever trying to balance my karma. I was even offered my jacket back, the short double breasted coat that he took from me that I loved so much. I felt, in this rare occasion that karma was rewarding me materially for giving him a chance, yet felt anxious due to his typical track record and the fact that karma does not work within the confines of material wealth and that I am not materially driven at all (I appreciate quality, not status).

Because the message was so long and I am so busy, I thought it would be good to meet up, just to catch up and get this jacket and was brutally rebuffed on the Monday night with the expected. Cameron's intention would be to have me wanting him back, tempted by the piece of his happy relationship he metaphorically dangled before my eyes, with his executive sounding partner, who probably came complete with car and own place, the vital essentials for a happy relationship (for someone living in a meticulously constructed fantasy world deeply influenced by the 'morals' presented by Sex and the City). I was left hurt not by that, because I don't have feelings or care about him at all, but by the fact that some cruel people like him, even after a considerable amount of time of, lets just say, a year, never change. A leopard never changes its spots and a slapper never changes her knickers.

'Homerwit Romance' is an anagram of Cameron's name. His zodiac sign is Taurus.

Then, while I was recovering from this horrifying reality that someone could coexist in this society with such a flaw, I had another one of societies evil outcasts rear its ugly head and inflict it's swarm of cuntiness upon me in the form of lies and gossip. Out of respect of this person, they shall not be named, because ironically I don't want to hurt this person, yet this person needs to be named and shamed on the basis that they are a bully. All I want to know is why this person felt they needed to lie to give my boss the impression that I had done something which if I had really done would of resulted me in being instantly dismissed from work. Why would you want to fuck someones life up when you know how much they are having to deal with, especially when you're the kind of person who is nice to everyone and treats others how he wants to be treated. I just don't get it. Answers on a fucking postcard please.

The person who did this to me also happens to be a Taurus.

Then to top it off, my complaint to Breast Cancer awareness was responded to. I was not satisfied with the action they informed me they were taking, and clearly took the side of the fundraiser despite her lying about what happened. My complaint clearly outlined that she couldn't of been mixing me up with someone else. I just felt that at the end of the week I had been inundated with lies, manipulation and deception, and felt so sad because how the hell does the world have so many people like this?

However, with a certain amount of bad comes an amount of good, and there are good things that come out of anything bad. The good I have realised are the following:

  • My ex-boyfriend needs to be avoided under every circumstance, even in apocalyptic maximum death scenarios
  • The jacket is no longer missed as its probably drenched in Cameron's bad energy and cheap Hollister cologne
  • That analysing a situation obsessively can benefit you in the same way a detective solves a case
  • I am nicer than most people, thats why I have a small group of likeminded friends rather than loads of faux friendships defined by facebook photos of the same sideways head pose.

Greg comes back to England in 3 weeks.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

The Pleasure Principle?

I've ridden the past fortnight like some emotional roller coaster, but not a Nemesis or an Oblivion, more like some really dangerous tea cups at the fair, though tea cups spin round I guess I have been going round and round and round and round... pleasing everyone, even people who I feel don't deserve my sympathetic attention. I'm talking about you, Captain Canada. He finally got a job so is moving, so now he can shut up about the dilemmas and worries that over-educating yourself into such a specific career that you're left pretty much paying for a one way ticket to a premature midlife crisis. Some people are satisfied with owning their own picket fence but I don't care much for suburbia. It's false perfection as we all know is a front for people who can't admit that they have problems or feelings, a whitewash to cover the sad fact that they make daily decisions based on what they think other people think of them. The paint peeled thanks to TV and film and my point is you can work and stress yourself out for this ultimate goal so that by the off chance someone else might be thinking what you want them to think, but the point is we all still wipe our ass after having a shit and frankly I don't care about your problems.

I feel bad for Captain Canada though. Through his generosity and care is a small boy, who threw himself into a world he believes he can make, but it doesn't belong to him. How can you protect a person who thinks they always know best? He is going to give me his bike when he leaves. It makes me feel like a man in a world where 'real men' need to prove their masculinity by plucking their eyebrows.

Yesterday a certain pattern repeated itself with my ex boyfriend and I initially wondered how far and to what extent would a normal person go to keep in contact with someone they were once with. I have over the last year felt extremely pressured to keep a friendship with my ex, through being bullied and harassed to being emotionally blackmailed by him. However I feel differently because I simply don't care (the stage where you don't even bother telling the people you told about the time before). However, I do wonder how I could be such an influence on someones life by not actually doing anything, and you know what they say, even supermodels get lonely. I however believe supermodels are really busy, and if you spend your time pining after someone or something, then you're not helping your situation and you find something worth while to do or a good cause to live for rather than attending to your own selfish emotional needs. Pull your head out your ass cos the light is actually switched ON.

I have encountered people and exchanges all week with a mixture of nice and nasty. I feel like including a couple of lists so here are two lists of things that have made me really angry and happy over the last fortnight. I'll start with the anger list, get the bad out first:

BAD
  • reading terrible reviews on google about my estate agents
  • general estate agent paranoia
  • more snow
  • girl stabbed on bus
  • having to get bus from moseley with previous bullet point's paranoia
  • being heavily armed with sharp kitchen cutlery enroute to pussy palace
  • fundraiser bitch ruining my day and being a cunt. for the complaint see the end of the post.
  • party cancellation due to "a bad feeling"
  • having to reassure a number of girls over problems that seem so trivial. what are friends for though!
  • running out of skins and having to roll a spliff with a page from the bible
  • cunts of solihull being, well, cunts
  • having to pay extra months rent because im lazy and never read my post

GOOD
  • a cat
  • moving went exactly as planned
  • full hope of receiving full deposit
  • red wine
  • bonus due at end of month
  • sense of organisation that just comes from nowhere
  • general contentment
  • stew and dumplings
  • mothers day fun (i got her lillies)
  • an abundance of cannabis
  • realising that if there is something i dont want at pussy palace, there are 2 men willing to burn it for me
  • Captain Canada finally getting a job 


Pussy Palace is amazing. It's probably the best place ever because it is warm and safe. Everyone has been helpful with moving and helping me settle in. I've only stayed there once but it's so near Steve's that it's no effort at all to move between the two. The second Monday away was Ben's birthday and I took him out for dinner because a few days before I think he realised that to get my attention and for me to be nice you'd have to have some sort of problem that involves loneliness. When I told him I was on to him and that I wasn't amused he changed his tune, but I took him out nevertheless because I really like Cote and I am glad because I was served the most succulent chicken I've ever sunk my beak into. I got him pissed beforehand at Island on my favourite cocktail (Zombie), whilst letting him talk his usual pointless small talk between intervals of proclaiming that he doesn't get drunk easily despite the zombie which had clearly gone straight to his head. I reminded him that Chinese people only need to have one drink and they are gone for the whole night. We then proceeded to the restaurant where I unknowingly made him cry by ranting about my life (I'd had wine and was on social and political auto-witter) and then him telling me how good I am. How does that white picket fence look now? Cos I just drove through it. I hate it when he cries, it's a little bit pathetic. He cried when I told him about how I was bullied at school. Surely it should be the other way round?

Oh and I made friends with an entire glee club from Florida via Chatroulette. I was bored and decided to see if I could fool some American girls into believing I was straight and seducing them with my accent but ended up listening to a guy singing a bit like Whitney Houston. I hope to meet them one day and join their group. My grandparents are in Florida at the moment, maybe she should meet them for me.

Picture updates...


 A quick sketch of mine 

My new cat reading up before the big spell

Friday, 1 March 2013

you keep me under your spell






When Steve saw these photos, he commented on the emptiness in my eyes. They were all taken around 'that time' where I felt like I was losing myself. But I never looked at these pictures of myself in the way he did. What shocked me was his immidiate shock when he saw them. He said I looked empty, thin, distant. I was doing a lot of coke at the time and having a nervous breakdown. I constantly listened to Desire, whilst phasing in and out of coke induced comas at my apartment on Newhall Street.


something's got a hold of me

The weekend (which for me is Saturday night, Sunday and Monday) was well spent consisting of activities such as creating our own playing cards and having a general laugh. I felt a lot more relaxed knowing that Monday wasn't haunting me, like some old cloaked hag, possibly the Scottish widow's mother in law, leading me down the torturous path that i have been accustomed to so lately. I knew that i was free to spend the day how i wished, which would be spent relaxingly and productively.

During the weekend I finally sorted out the whole spotify situation as I needed to renew my membership and now  i get access to it on my phone, which now more or less defeats the object of ever getting an ipod as i get free access to any music on my phone that i listen to on my head phones when I'm in transit anywhere. like living alone, it was one thing i was in denial about when I did without it. likening myself to some neo traditionalist i told myself and others that i didn't like this isolation and disconnection with the outside world, but when on the train i think its really improved my mood now the low life scum have been blocked out with great music.

also at the weekend i received two more books off Steve- one was a small book of cat quotations, the other an interiors book by Laura Ashley that Steve was foolishly going to donate to charity. i love Laura Ashley and am so glad that I have acquired this book, its given me some important points of reassurance which has reminded me to approach the whole making my new room nice with patience but also some aesthetic ideas that go with that whole Laura Ashley look combined with the minimal and tranquil style i want to achieve.

On Monday I got stoned and listened to music endlessly whilst lying on the floor next to the heater. I missed how much I liked putting my headphones on, listening to anything I wanted and day dreaming. I felt grateful with my honest appreciation for technology and realised that I was just suppressing change in the past, when i claimed i could live without nice phones, computers and music, similar to realising that living alone was a load of shit and that I am actually too young to turn into a hermit just yet.

After more mini revelations about stuff that I've forgotten about now, I got up and went to my flat to collect the rest of my clothes and to clear up, ready to be moved out; a task I really didn't feel like I was going to feel like doing but ended up being a pleasant and straightforward and an enjoyable task which I put thanks to being nicely stoned, music to accompany my journey and a deeply relaxing weekend full of achievement mixed with debauchery. I've not thought this clearly in a long time.

When I got back I of course had a spliff to look forward to and some nice food and a good early night infused with lavender and I realised as I slipped into unconsciousness that I had experienced the perfect day off. It doesn't take much to please me.

The rest of week has been comfortable routine. I've had work and obviously I've been at Steve's, enjoying hearty meals, nice spliffs and endless Simpsons. It doesn't really get much better than that we declared.

Yesterday was a busy and tiring day for me. The last day of each month brings us stock take, the day where we painstakingly count every product in the shop so they can measure how much we have been robbed or over ordered on. It takes all day. I then agreed to do Zumba with Katie and Cassie which is taught by one of our Christmas temps we've re-employed, a 17 year old boy, which makes this whole experience truly bizarre. After zumba, which is basically energetic whore dancing to terrible music that whores like, I went back to my nans, had a bath I was too tired to appreciate and early night in bed.

And today's the first day of March so we can now well and truly tell February to fuck off. What a pointless month, sometimes I wonder if January is better, but then again we did have National Suck Your Hair Off Day, so in hindsight, a lot was done.