Wednesday, 21 January 2009

la roux - quicksand
amazing song, amazing video, she looks like tilda swinton and olympe maxime's lovechild.

in other news i slept in until half four today. that's been the second sleep this week i've dreamt of someone and woken up feeling changed by it.

Sunday, 18 January 2009

chasing monday mornings

sundays are strange, they spend their time chasing monday mornings. i caught the train to salisbury after work last night; ate sausages, chips, sweetcorn and egg (over-easy) for supper; drank a bottle of wine with dad; revised; decided to go to bed at the relatively normal time of 1 a.m. but ended up cooking chips and getting very very drunk in the work room, just me and 4music. i woke up at about 1 this afternoon, wandered around salisbury for a while and noticed the salisbury zavvi is one of the ones HMV has bought. it's back to basingstoke in a few hours, to go to the cinema with chris and some pals and then home to revise/procrastinate yet further.

i can't wait until 11 a.m. tomorrow when my exam will be over and i won't need to worry about the ridiculous things you worry about in exams - needing the loo, sitting in the wrong seat, tripping on a chair and falling onto the floor as you walk out silently - until may. after june i'm set off into the big bad world, fingers crossed the economy has dramatically picked up by then and i'll have a plethora of fun retail jobs to take.

2007 was actually a really fun year.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009

this is me, all moving on up now,
maybe making a bad job of it but
this is me now, the eight stone tarzan,
gabezilla, watch me grow taller smarter,
i'm wised-up now. a whole new world,
i'm thelma, i'm louise too, and i'll do
anything i please to cus i'm no corpse,
put the silver bullet in those vampires,
put the witch in the oven. i'm nowhere near
nothing. free's such a good word to be
yes it's me me me, walking walt disney.
i'm pinocchio and i cut off that nose,
shed those ties, threw up every lie i told.
it's all H-O-N-E-S-T-Y from here til i die,
why, it feels so good to be alive, cus
i'm a real boy now, got my dreamcoat on,
and oh oh How
beautiful the sky looks, seen from my blue eyes -

these are a group of pictures i've taken over christmas. i don't consider myself a photographer in the slightest (we're 21st century teenagers lol, we're all photographers) but they're photos i really like. i always look at things too subjectively which makes it difficult for me to work out if anything i produce is actually worthy of anyone else's attention.

i hate to jump on the bandwagon but my dad put lady gaga's album on my laptop and i've spent the last two hours sitting here in my bedroom with it on repeat. i've got an exam in 12 hours so i probably shouldn't be procrastinating like this. i managed to work my way through my GCSEs doing very little work, but i still can't manage to understand that i actually need to WORK to succeed in my A Levels. this time in 5 months i've finished college and i'm turning 18, and i still haven't quite worked out how to get out of bed when the alarm goes off. i slept through a doctor's appointment and a drama lesson today. it's awful really.

i bought a copy of allen ginsberg selected poems last week. i've got no idea if he's a cliched poet to like, in the way e.e. cummings is, but either way i don't really care. i went for a meal with chris tonight and then caught a train over to my dad's and read a bunch of ginsberg poems the whole way. you should read his poem Many Loves. or perhaps you shouldn't because i think i only enjoy it so much because i "identify" with it.

ON NEAL'S ASHES - allen ginsberg
Delicate eys that blinked blue Rockies all ash
nipples, Ribs i touched w/ my thumb are ash
mouth my tongue touched once or twice all ash
bony cheeks soft on my belly are cinder, ash
earlobes and eyelids, youthful cock tip, curly pubis
breast warmth, man palm, high school thigh,
baseball bicept arm, asshole anneal'd to silken skin
all ashes, all ashes again.

song: Paparazzi - lady gaga; book: Can You Keep A Secret? - sophie kinsella. (sophie kinsella writes appalling yet absolutely brilliant chicklit, i don't know whether i should lie and say i'm reading proust or something.)

Monday, 12 January 2009

eco soc pol

i read somewhere that everytime a recession hits, someone remakes brideshead revisited; i think it's the same thing with me and making blogs. i'll create one when i'm feeling vaguely creative/pretentious, spend about an hour agonising over the URL name for it, get bored changing the layout around, and then use the new blog excessively for about two days, posting a new blog every other hour, with a confused notion in my head that perhaps i'll receive some sort of gratification/satisfaction from talking into the big wide empty cyberspace. of course what always happens is that the various blogs i've started became ignored and quietly vanished into the murky black holes of the internet.

i guess i'm starting yet another blog because i'm having an accidental gap year, and with most of my friends talking about university offers, or lack thereof, and most of my old best friends living miles and miles away from me, a blog (i hate the word "blog") could possibly be beneficial.

i have no idea where to start. it's twenty to two in the morning, and i was browsing the guardian website. i just stumbled upon a new article uploaded sometime after midnight - waterstone's is axing 200 jobs; staff are to be told this morning. i guess it sums up how bizarre modern life is that i can sit here in the comfort of my room, 17 years old and about as naive, finding out rapidly about bigwig decisions that will in 8 hours leave 200 people upset and unemployed.

i don't understand the credit crunch or inflation but (this sounds very stupid) the political/economic/social climate we live in at the moment makes me want to sit down and cry quite a lot of the time, sincerely. every other day or so there's another announcement of 1000 jobs vanishing just like that. i guess i should be happy because it's the "death of capitalism" but the truth is i have to love capitalism as much as the next middle class teenager. i'm stating the obvious so i'm going to go, i don't know, think about icelandic banks and cry myself to sleep or something. over and out.

film: the Science of Sleep; poem: Many Loves - allen ginsberg; song: Sad Little Moon - the magnetic fields.