Cannonball

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.

Earlier someone was humming “Sing Hosanna”, the hymn. What a brilliant song, so I sang it, but couldnt remember the words. I went with: Give me joy in my heart keep me…burning. Everyone mocked me. BURNING? BURNING?! You have been listening to too much death rock. Death rock, yesss someone said that.

Anyway, I looked up the lyrics, and there is a verse that says “give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning”. So HAH! in yer face. Brilliant song. My favourite song as a nipper was “Shine Jesus Shine”. Does the Devil really have the best tunes? I am not yet convinced. I declared I would be going to church this Sunday so as to investigate further. I got told this wasnt appropriate and I can’t just go to church for the songs. Heck yes I can, it’s a slow conversion, I said. To be honest, I’m not going to go to church, but I told people that I approved of Jesus. I dunno if I was lying.

I think I mentioned horoscopes the other day, so whilst I am questioning my faith, I thought I would investigate these also, and the description of myself made me HONK.  Hilarious.

Cancers are cute. They pretend to be tough but it’s all an act. They have great memories and lots of them are good at history. They love anything old, like museums, antiques and your grandmother. They are fairly secretive and hide things - food in their drawers and cupboards for instance. They stay pretty close to home, are extremely psychic, have a great sense of humour and are the world’s best cooks. They collect things. Other people call this garbage but to them it’s gold…you’d never find a Cancerian throwing a garage sale.

Let’s have a looksie eh? I am the furthest thing from cute I have ever known. I really am tough, honest, it’s not an act, but I do cry a bit. I do have an excellent memory and I fully approve of history. I do like old stuff, and I do like grandmothers. Not yours though. I am dead honest and open, or I think I am, but I do secrete things around my house I guess. I do really long for a home. In the past I have been convinced I was psychic, then settled on just being convinced I was intuitive and SMART. Obvvzz I have an ace sense of humour and I ruddy love cooking. I do collect and hoarde, and yes everyone else things my belongings are rubbish.

So in conclusion, err well, there isn’t one, it’s nonsense isnt it!?
I would totally love to have my fortune told or something like that. My friend Louise once did my tarot cards, but I think maybe I was drunk because I cant remember what they said.

I don’t think I really need to believe in anything though do I?  What a lot of rubbish. I just mostly try and be a good person, but if heaven exists, and I don’t get to go, then I am okay with that because, well I deserve it for not believing. If those are the rules, I accept them.

A man just asked me why I work in an office when I should obviously be in the countryside with chickens and vegetables. It’s only because I discussed growing prize winning parsnips with him. Yesterday he told me I should be in agricultural college, and today he told me I should be running a garden centre. I don’t really like chickens that much anyway.

I am trying to distract myself from a gloomy cloud that just wont shit off. Why are people so awkward?

Oh my  gosh, I can’t believe it.
The WEIRDEST news ever.

I really, really do think it is bad  to find comfort in other peoples misfortune, and I definitely try to avoid that. However, sometimes things happen that really make karma seem convincing. This time though karma has grabbed me by the hair, shoved me into a wall and whispered menacingly in my ear DO YOU BELIEVE ME NOW?! yess yesss I doooo. And I am grateful you exist! Thank you for putting the world right again.

I have probably said before how I like to believe my horoscopes, when it suits me. Yeahh well it’s been suiting me lately. When I did that confidence and positive behaviour course, it said something about realisations and changing the course of my life. Well, I think I did that, just a small bit, by saying out loud to some people ” I am in the wrong job”. I have said it before, yesss, to my mum and so on. But it made it seem more real.

And yesterday, the Sunday Times Style horoscopes said that I was to open up discussions, no matter how awful I thought they might turn out, and that it would probably work out best in the long run, to let people have their say. Now, I do believe that your fate is in your own hands, and you make your own destiny and things like that. But in times of crisis, I am happy to hang on to whatever is there to hang on to quite frankly. And that is why I mostly kept calm. Until the pain and ridiculousness and the just plain heartbreak got too much, and I cried a bit. And then I shoved my face right in my pillow because sobs were starting to leak out. I just never, ever want that to happen again. But also, I really hope that things HAVE worked out in the long run.

Right, so despite talk of karma and horoscopes, I still maintain I am a highly practical person. So I have started scribbling on bits of paper, trying to make a plan. The first bit is money. Shid off Pension! I am gonna be well dead before I am old, so that is no problem. Thanks anyway. The second bit is work. I do find it terrible a lot of the time. But it’s kind of the only option right now, so deal with it you massive girl. So I have been working out how to make extra hours up, so that I can have an extra four hours “leave” a month, which might just come in the most handy thing ever should I want to squeeze in extra boyfriend-ness.

Life is hard right, but I am quite determined sometimes. And this bit of determination is going to go on making the most of the happy bits, and trying to not dwell on the awful bits. Get fugged awful bits.

Did I go on a bit? Wanna know more about shoes instead?!

I tell you what is not fine. Shoes made out of that jelly plastic.

You know the stuff I mean.

These however, are fine.

They are from Topshop. I wear a size Seven. Do you want my address?

Mine’s a pint.