Cannonball

It’s my birthday soon…ish.
OK! Not that soon at all really. But I am already thinking about it because there doesn’t feel like a whole lot between now and then. By that, I don’t mean nothing is happening- quite the opposite. Which means it will be here before I know it.
I do fear birthdays a bit still. Last year I more or less overcame this, and the previous year I just ate meat and got soaking in the rain, so there wasnt heaps to complain about. I dunno… it’s expectation or something isn’t it?! I hate birthday parties- my own I mean. I love other peoples. I love other peoples parties, birthdays and most of all buying them presents.
OH HECK! It’s APRIL you know, APRIL! It was Alices birthday almost two months ago and I am still yet to have taken delivery of her best present. Between the present and I is an illiterate man and I fear this could result in a lo-o-o-ong delay. He never even replied to my last email the shit.

Anyway, here is some stuff I would like, in general, and for my birthday I guess:

1. Building A Desert by Idle Hands

I just really want to own this. It has some really brilliant songs on it. I tried to find it online and it was gong to cost something ridic like $30. I don’t mind not having the actual CD, let’s face it, that will just end up in my bathroom. It’s basically pop punk, which is not something I have ever been comfortable with liking. All my friends when I was a mid-teen were into all of that. I tried to understand- I mean, I kind of liked The Offspring… I even bought a couple of Fat Wreck compilations (which are in my bathroom), but… nah. Anyway, this was release on Trustkill… someone ask that handsome ginger for a copy for me would youuu?

2. Mer Morte by Monarch

Do I have a record player?
No
Do I like Monarch?
Yes
Does the first bit matter?
I dunno.

I really love Monarch and I think I may have pondered before if I really love Monarch fullstop, or if I really love Monarch partly because they have totally charmed me with their cider-sharing, whispery ways. I care not, either way. I want to own this, hold it in my gleeful hands and marvel at its beauty. I will feel the doom through the vinyl. I have no need for ears.

SHIT JUST LOOK AT IT WOULD YOU!??qD.,JDLWEKJQD’M

3. Tegan & Sara Black Metal Shirt.

Heck yeah it’s sold out everywhere, and that’s fine. It’s pure fantasy. I am not even a massive T&S fan, but I do really love this shirt. And their faces. And Walking With A Ghost.

4. Vivienne Westwood Melissa Shoes

P.S ONLY JOKING! I think I would rather die than put my trotters anywhere near such a monstrosity. UIRRJKRJKREHJ

In other news, Metric are playing in Manchester the day I get back from ATP. I wanna go so ruddy bloody much. I am currently weighing up if this is the most foolish thing ever to plan? I am in work the next day. But I have wanted to see Metric for the longest time. Argh.

I got in contact with my friend Jen shortly after writing that previous thing about Ladyhawke. She probably couldn’t possibly have sounded more happy to hear from me. WOWOWOW. I love her. And she loves me. And so do heaps of other people you know. Sometimes all you need is to be reminded of that- that someone loves you and your tomatoes.

I am going to try and sell some stuff. I say TRY because it really is a big wrench. It seemed like a revelation a couple of years back to realise the reason I am such a hoarder and why I like the mess and confusion of my house, is because being surrounded by stuff which is familiar and has a story attached makes me feel at home as I ever possibly could do. Ehhh, STUFF doesn’t make a home does it? I need to stop that. I never wear my Most Precious Blood shirts- I never even look at them. How on earth could they possibly provide me with any comfort?! What a crock of shiddd.

Today I emailed Ray Harkins (the man who thinks double decker busses are like fair ground rides, and woops at small dogs) to see if he wanted to meet up when I go to LA.

This was positivity happening. Maybe I can convince him to give me a job at Century Media in LA, but I won’t hold my breath. God! Actually try and imagine me working in LA. Go on.. I would be stumbling around, blinded by bright Californian sunshine, all pasty and flabby moaning I am too hot and I can’t reach the middle of my back to put my factor 50 sunblock on. Woeee.

I am waiting on an answer which could make my life totally heaps better, or send me right back to urgrhrhrh awful despair and hopelessness. Pleasssseeee the former, dramatic gods.

There is a HAT MUSEUM in Stockport. I am probably going to go there soon. HATS!!!!

Top Shop has now sold out in EVERY SIZE of the shoes I want. Do you think this means they will get more!? I really hope so, but I bet Bestie has forgotten all about it, and wont even buy them for me anymore. I hope you appreciate my constant updates about these shoes.. They are massively beautiful.

I love Ladyhawke. I thought I would keep her an enigma when I realised I didnt know anything at all about her. But whilst googling for an image, I couldnt help but skim over a few lines of text that indicated she was of New Zealand heritage. And you might not believe me unless you have met a few people from NZ, but they ALL know each other. The displaced ones I mean.. the ones who dare to leave the country. I think a lot of them end up in London. One of them ended up in New York and then wouldnt leave, and became an illegal alien. And then Peaches’s PA. Imagine that. Oh.. imagine that, Ladyhawke and Peaches working together. IT’S BECAUSE THEY ALL KNOW EACH OTHER. It’s very clever, and cute.
This is Peaches and Ladyhawke doing a cuddle:

I am going to grow my hair out and have it just like that. Ladyhawke, not Peaches. I do admire her permed mullet (pullet? murm?) but I think it’s just not for me. Ladyhawke is playing the Cockpit. I would love to go, despite the fact that I would certainly loathe every single attendee. Alas I will be touching down in the USofA so it’s not gonna happen anyway.

I did an illegal and got the new Metric album. I have only listened to one song so far. I am definitely in love with Emily Haines. Who is actually more popular/famous in real life- Broken Social Scene or Metric?

I think Isis are playing the day after Mayhem in Florida. Maybe that will be a lovely time? Or maybe it will be snoooooze. I remember one time I accidentally threw a tampon at the feet of a handsome from Isis. What an idiot.

It is an equal blessing and a curse to not belong anywhere, that is for sure.

Lately it has become evident that I have very few friends in the city where I live. I feel wrong to talk about the things that have made me realise this, because I havent told my mum. And I havent told my mum because I don’t want to make her worry or make her feel sad. I am going to have to speak to her tonight and tell her the truth.

Your mind does go into dramatic overdrive when you start thinking about things you have never considered before. I make no excuses for being over the top. But the realisation of, should I have to go to hospital, I wouldn’t know who would even have the time or inclination to visit… that sort of thing. Wellll, it makes me think I am definitely doing something wrong with my life. There must be more than this.

I wish my boyfriend didn’t live so far away. I am so very sad right now, all I want is a cuddle from him.

And those red shoes from Topshop which are STILL sold out in my size.

I am going to eat a lot of courgettes.

So, now we all know that Kazakhstan is a real place, did you know that they cited health complications due to “clock shifts”, as a reason for their abolishment of DST in 2005?!

You do now!

I support the people of Kazakhstan in this move. DST IS RUBBISH! Just keep the clocks the same you idiots. I don’t hardly get to see my boyfriend as it is, and this weekend in particular, he is almost certain to spend at least 90% of the weekend sleeping or watching cars. If that’s not bad enough, YOU WANT TO TAKE AN HOUR OFF ME. Think what I could do with that hour!! Go on, think about it! It doesn’t involve freezing anything, that’s for sure you pervert.

It was a builder in the first place. A BUILDER! That’s not the sort of influential profession I envisaged would enforce such a ridiculous TRADITION on us. That’s all it is, tradition. We don’t HAVE to do it, plenty of places don’t. They wised up. 1907 was when this madness started, it would have been apt to end it two years ago- look you’ve had your fun for ONE HUNDRED YEARS, now lets get back to normal. But no, we all just kept switching backwards and forwards. If “they” had done what was right, life would be better. For a start, you wouldn’t have just read all of this, you would have an extra minute or so in your life, to do whatever you pleased… a kiss, a wee, a drink, a LOL. Whatever you like. You could even have watched a clock tick by sixty seconds and it would have been more USEFUL than moving time around twice a year.

Think on that.

In other news, I went to see Richard Herring and got described as RETICENT. I am not reticent. He wasn’t talking specifically about me, thank gooodness, otherwise we would have fallen out for sure. The crowd was reticent. I really don’t like the concept of Twitter, or have any wish to embrace it. I try not to judge those who like that stuff.. I mean, I resisited facebook for years. I was adamant I would not buckle, but of course I have done. I don’t see the same thing happening with Twitter. So, imagine my disappointment to find that Herring is twittertastic. He twittered before going on stage, and in the interval. Alice told me. I had a tiny chat after, but couldn’t meet his eye, as he is too handsome so started edging away when he was still talking.

Prior to this, I had a lovely time with Clark, Watson, Gillson and Fielding. What a set of brilliant faces.

I have decided to buck my ideas up, for serious. Being miserable is just not very ME. I will tell you about the rubbish stuff if you wanna know, because I’m not keeping it inside anymore. Secrets are for suckers, especially, when you’re definitely not in the wrong about anything. EVER. Okay, tiny lie, sometimes I am wrong, but not often. Sometimes stuff just happens to you, and you have to deal with it and move on. That’s the bit I havent succeeded in for the past hmm maybe three months or so. Stuff has happened to me and I’ve gone OHGODOHGODDDD and pitied myself and everyone else around me. Oh knob off to that. I’m not going to die, my boyfriend is handsome, I can still see Alice, my job pays my rent, and I realllllly love my cats. And my mum. So, that’s pretty good.

One thing that refuses to stop happening to me though, which, although it doesn’t make me go OHGODOHGODOHGODDDD, it make me curse Norse gods when they don’t deserve it- DST. Knack offfffff.

Now I am going to go and buy more Easter goodness than ever before and squeeze it all into a box to give to my lover.

Have you seen that Stroke advert?! I hate it! It’s worse than Diabetes: The Silent Assassin or whatever that one was. It’s just terrible. My mum hates it too, it’s just massively uncomfortable viewing. Perhaps not so much for someone who has not experienced a stroke, but regardless watching someone in pain is not lovely stuff.  It’s not like those horrific consequence type adverts for changing the batteries in your smoke alarm or something. There’s no need to try and make me feel guilty about strokes for goodness sake!! Knock it off!

The south is good but I will be glad to be back in the north to cuddle my cats. And this week I will see my brilliant boyfriend for more days than I thought was going to happen. Although the circumstances are somewhat …terrible, I am glad and grateful and he’s promised to cuddle me right in so I can’t wait quite frankly. I think I need it really loads.

My back is aching really loads from my bizarre time in a bed-loft in an industrial unit in Hackney. It feels like it might never be right, despite getting various members of my family to prod at me. Theyre hands are not strong enough for my needs. I probably need to be face down on the floor and crushed right in. OH! Yeah, apparently enjoying being squeezed and squashed is a trait commonly associated with autism. I’m not autistic; I just slept awkwardly and my posture alone is not good enough to fix it.

Dentist in the morning, then a little shop with my mum, and some lunch, then home. Marks & Spencers sells cereal doesnt it? I bet it’s good.   

    For a very long time now, I have wanted to own my own house. Whilst this might seem at odds with my apparent inability to stay put, it matches up perfectly with my total desire to have a HOME. I have probably somewhat convinced myself that if I have a house that I can put up shelves in, and invest in refurbishment that it will make it a home. I know that’s probably not the case, but it didnt stop me forcing my mother to visit mortgage advisors with me. To no avail of course. Shittttt I remember feeling heartbroken, arrrhh. I did want to buy a house in London though, what an idiot. Well, it was one particular place, actually a flat.

See, probably since the internet and I met, I have loved searching for property. It’s not something I do often, I have to say, but it is a secret pleasure. I guess it’s just a more interactive version of reading the property ads in the paper. 360 video tours! hiiiii. One time, there was a GF    F in Hackney I was obsessed with, it was by Hackney Downs and had a GARDEN that was totally full of flowers, and patio doors, and a mezzanine bed platform.

Eh, I have gotten loftier in my desires since.

I don’t use my laptop all that much anymore,  as it is painfully slow. Ryan Clark said he would fix it, but that hasnt happened yet. It probably just needs a technological cuddle. Give it one Ryan. Anyway, there is a folder on here I just found, where I guess several months ago I started saving photos of STUFF I WANTED. There are shoes and taxidermy* chairs in there, and this:

It’s somewhere in Yorkshire, but I forget where. Try and imagine how much I wanna live in it! You cannnnn’t because you don’t know about the gallery bedrooooooom. It exists! And there are two staircases.  Obviously I would do something very err creative with those other buildings.  I wouldn’t have horses. Except maybe one Tiny Horse. Or two to ease the grumpiness. And, although I have never had any overwhelming affection for chickens (however Chris tells me they are GOOD), in the video tour of this house, there were chickens and they won me over. I even showed Alice this house (and video), almost like righhhht how am I gonna get that then.

I want that house.

*I am going round Keirans next week to see his fresh delivery of taxidermy. Lucky I have just been paid, but ouchhh how much do you reckon a Heron would cost!? Lots I reckon. I did declare the other day that I don’t NEED more shoes, but I keep checking the Topshop website to see if those red shoes I like are back in stock in my size. I do have about 80 pairs of shoes, I DON’T need more. But I probably, definitely do need some stuffed vermin. I am willing to part with cash for taxidermied wildlife. Apparently Wheatley has already bagsied the hedgehog. What a cow.

I should stop mocking well, mortality. Death. It’s proper real, and if it wants to, it will just come and get me, whenever it fancies. And I am probably scared of that. More than I fear dying (because I don’t actually fear being dead, that’s absurd), I fear my mum dying. You don’t need to tell me I am a fantastic daughter, the text I sent my mum about a 15% discount at New Look says it all. She’ll have a ball. Anyway, I am convinced life would be an utter disaster without my mum in it. There is noone I love more.

Once, in a press release, I definitely used the phrase “unstoppable rock machine”. I hate my life. I wish all things from the past, except memories could be erased. You well don’t need them. Oh, I mean the written word, don’t I? It’s just embarrassing.

I am rambling. I am half way between grief and delight. I felt this way one time, in November, and that was the day I met Bestie. And then, I lay on the floor and cried.

On Friday, I am going to see Alan, as well as Martin. It is our twelve year anniversary this year. We’re going to celebrate. Probably just by drinking some wine and eating some bread, and then he will try and spoon me in the night but his elbows are too sharp to be condusive for comforting night cuddles, so I will shove him off.

And maybe better than all of that. Donkeys. Donkeys and Tiny Horses. I am gonna hang out with some on Thursday. I really am, and I will probably take pictures. I am likely to make a total idiot of myself. Wildlife gets me giddy. I wonder if I am too old to get my mum to take me to a farm to see Llamas?!

In conclusion. I am not fearless. I guess I lied.

However, on a positive note, I absolutely, definitely have more courage than fear, and some people don’t have that. So, haaaa!

Oh, I dunno what the point is really. Just, friendships are weird.

Right now, I am massively lonely.

Maybe because I moved around so much when I was younger, having friends around me all the time wasn’t so important, but now I really think it might be. But it’s like I’m too late, and everyone has already got that bit of their lives sorted. Surely that can’t be true? Well it feels like it anyway. I am just an afterthought, and sometimes not even that, and I am just totally forgotten. Don’t think I haven’t questioned whether this is my own fault and whether I am just repellent or repugnant or something. But what if I am?! I can’t see how I can change a whole lot; I think I am a good friend. I am demonstrative, and loyal and honest. It matters to me to do what I say I’m going to do for my friends, but I guess everyone is only human.

Anyway, right now, I SEEM to be being ignored, and ouch it hurts. Some people treated me like a mug, I protested, and now I appear to be being badly snubbed. As ever though, I am not going to back down, because I absolutely believe in what I am saying. I have tried to see things from other peoples points of view, I always do. And I can’t work out what is going on. I am starting to feel paranoid too, that everyone else knows something that I don’t. But that’s ridiculous, my conscience is clear. So, I guess if I have to be lonely, I have to be lonely.

I am glad I am going to see my mother this weekend. Oh unconditional love, why are you so elusive? I am going to see my uncle tonight also. He is pretty funny, massively loud and he has a moustache. Also, on Friday, all being well, I am going to see Martin Ives, whom I have basically loved since I met him. I have always, always been grateful for his friendship, even when he has made me cry, and even when he has been so drunk I had to hold him up whilst he was spitting in the street. Mostly because he’s honest. And he lets me speak to his mum on the phone sometimes. One of the best things that has probably ever happened in my life is going in a rikshaw on my 24th birthday around London with Martin Ives. Boyyyy did that guys legs have to work hard with us in the back.

Now Alice is gone, I have a fear of being locked out of my house, really massively.

I bought some new underwear yesterday. And some chicken pakora for my lunch today, which I helpfully left in my fridge.