| To be discontinued... |
[05 Jun 2002|12:15pm] |
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I think I'm switching my blog to Blogger, so if you're interested follow the link and see what you find. It's not at all fancy yet, but give me a few days...
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[04 Jun 2002|02:48pm] |
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music |
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Sarah Harmer, Edith Frost, Le Tigrrrrrrre! |
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So. My ex-girlfriend has a new boyfriend, and I just found out.
(For background info, we split up 3 months ago after 3 and a half years together. I don't believe in any glib formulae which tell you "how long it takes to get over someone", but realistically, 3 months is still in the raw and occasionally painful stage)
I just wanted to see whether writing down how I feel reveals anything to me about myself, or her, or what. I doubt it, but I'm on a roll today, so... New boyfriend is a mutual friend of ours, which is a good thing and a bad thing. Bad because I'm pretty soon going to have to deal with seeing them together - another of the numerous stages between splitting and coming to terms with a happy life of mutual respect and friendship. It's also going to change my friendship with him, which, well, will be strange for a while at least. I am fairly certain it was all done honourably, so I'm not getting myself paranoid about what may have been happening when we were still together. Which is good.
Also good is the fact that he's a lovely, honest, caring, genuine bloke, and if I were to have chosen her next boyfriend myself, I would have picked him. So although the bastards had better not be even happier than me and Vicky were (joke!), on a friendly level I wish them all the luck in the world, and do believe they might together have what it takes.
It's a bit odd writing this, but for all I know it may be helping me get used to the idea. Certainly, I only have a small knot in my tummy, and if it follows other recent emotional experiences, it'll just get smaller. Phew.
Well, I was wrong - I haven't revealed anything to myself about my innermost feelings by writing this down. Still, it's here for posterity now - I'll be curious to re-read it in 6 months and see how things have gone by then...
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| Le Tigre, London Astoria, Friday 31st May 2002 |
[04 Jun 2002|12:42pm] |
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How could I have forgotten??
THE best musical experience in years, literally. It's hard to imagine having a better time than I had on Friday night, seeing a band of whom I only knew half a dozen songs, but who have shot up muh personal rankings like no-one's business in the last couple of months. I love them!!
I've been spurred to multiple punctuation marks, but that's okay, cos excitement does funny things. Kathleen Hanna is a magnificently inspiring, desperately attractive woman who became my idol in a matter of seconds on Friday night. I feel she wouldn't appreciate my lust, so idolatry's the next best thing. The band gambolled on stage with matching Star Trek-stylee outfits which just made them look dreamy (or, in new member JD's case, inspired me to comment "my dream job would be to be the only bloke in Le Tigre" - only when a touching tale of her coming out as a lesbian was recounted could I be sure I'd got that one wrong). The immediate energy and passion seduced me in moment, not that I really needed to be seduced - the languid, treble-free sound of Slumber Party supporting had piqued my musical desires, and I kind of had a feeling Le Tigre weren't going to let me down...
I can never escape from the pit of bad music journalism, and in any case it's hard to find ways of describing individual songs etc. when you can't see my massive cheesy grin. It was that perfect. The only thing I will mention is the encore - Deceptacon, natch - which saw a hundred or so rrrioters storm the stage and dance their tits off while I pogoed like a loon up the front. Heaven! Sweaty heaven, true, but I could have been tarred and feathered and it wouldn't have spoiled my night.
I get a bit embarrassed when my enthusiasm overtakes my writing, so I'll stop now. But fuck, if you EVER get the chance to see this band, kill for tickets if necessary.
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[04 Jun 2002|12:41pm] |
Scary. All my friends have blogs, and most of them are interesting! Not as interesting as the World Cup, of course :-), which I am paradoxically ignoring (well, it is South Korea vs Poland) to write this. They are kind of inspiring, though (Mandee and Laura, I'm talking about YOU), so perhaps I shall be upgrading to something more, um, upgradey soon.
Yesterday I did something that may be worth writing about. I went to sit in Green Park, just next to Buckingham Palace, and watched on a big screen the popular music concert hosted by Her Maj. I drank wine and got kneed in the back by a lippy cow, drunkenly staggering to the ring of trees where later the most spectacular firework display would take place, but which was then being used as a multi-gender communal peeing area. I've never seen a girl pee standing up before.
So the concert itself was surprisingly watchable. Needless to say, everyone was shit, but they only did a song or two at a time, it was all familiar stuff which, while predictable, was hard to get really angry about. Unlike the idiotic 20,000 people sat round me who insist on clapping along on the ON beat. Now, those of you who know me will understand that in the pet hate stakes, it's up there with being tickled and looking for a job. So I had no option but to take a zen-like approach to their ignorance, and just sat there boozing and appreciating my own innate superiority :-)
The fireworks, though... Bugger me, they were amazing. And they were RIGHT above our heads, hence the ash and paper (including a bit of cardboard the size of a fist) cascading onto my head. It's hard to describe them - I mean, they're fireworks - but wow. Wow.
Today I have NOTHING planned. Good, I think.
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[27 May 2002|05:20pm] |
An entry post-Brighton, where I spent Saturday picnicking and watching Eurovision with a dozen or so close friends. One of those unfeasibly-good-mood days, which by and large lasted the whole day. Who am I kidding, I was ecstatic until about 2am, when lack of sleep made me a bit more philosophical. By 5.30am I was really a bit less pleased, and the 90 minutes shut-eye I eventually got wasn't really a great preparation for the following day.
Why on earth am I dwelling on the miniscule crap bit of an otherwise excellent day? Answers on a postcrad.
So. We went to the beach, and played. We looked at the fearsome sea, which became pretty unfearsome as the tide went out. This time I didn't FALL IN like last time, when I had to buy half a new wardrobe. But we did play beach football, and in the spirit of mentioning my performance, I was responsible for 6 out of the 7 goals scored - 4 for my team, and two for theirs :-)
I'm not really enjoying writing this. maybe I'll come back later.
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[20 May 2002|12:40am] |
Two in a day? Insanity!
Football was great fun. I scored a hat-trick, but in a 12-12 draw with 4-a-side, the law of averages was on my side. Hurrah! Less good was the fact that although I kept completely out of the way of dangerous tackles, my knee is currently so sore I can't walk. Age is creeping up on me. Actually, strike that - age is jogging alongside me, making fun of my puny, breathless attempts to keep up...
Other events of today - well, there really haven't been any. On the way to footie I bumped into a girl who was my perma-crush between the ages of 13 and 21. The good news is she remembered my name (this time, grrr)! The bad news is I haven't fancied her for 7 years. Sigh.
Otherwise, a drab day, Too much booze for a non-night out, but then that's allowed because hopefully the nurse I'm seeing on Tuesday when I register with my new doctor will give me a FIRM LECTURE on the dangers of drink.
Ah, life. Unemployed, single life. There is such a thing as too much free time, I'm coming to realise.
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[19 May 2002|01:10pm] |
Hello.
A tide-me-over entry, this one - I have no inspiration so I'm just going to say what I see. Playing football today, though my enthusiasm isn't quite there yet. Probably because I literally haven't moved a muscle all week, bar a not-very-brisk walk through the wilds of Balham and Tooting. Is Tooting a funny word? I say yes.
Preparations towards creating and maintaining a fully-functioning blog are, well, not going very far, but I'm currently keeping my ear to the ground in case my initiative levels are uncharacteristically high some time in the near future. Having lots of free time seems more likely to lead to atrophy rather than creativity, which is why a bit of self-discipline is likely to be needed if I'm ever to create again. At least now I know I can do it, after my amazing script writing exploits! Not that I've been paid yet, but anyway...
Writing or lunch? Lunch. Cheerio!
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| How 2 wheels and me don't get on |
[05 Apr 2002|01:03pm] |
A moderately eventful few days has spurred me back into writing, and for a change it's *actual* things going on that I want to write about.
Tuesday saw my (pedal) bicycle break. It had been making a funny thunky noise as the pedals idled when I rode back from Richmond Park the previous day, but it seemed fine when going forward. So, on balance, I thought I'd risk it. I t might go away if you ignore it! Unsurprisingly, I made it half way around the park - about 4 miles from home - before the derailleur (I think) gave out completely. Honestly, there were ball bearings everywhere! The only thing to do (and I was lucky in the, by and large, I'd been going mainly uphill up to this point) was to wheel the bloody thing all the way home. Or get a taxi, but my pride and quest for fitness had me decided. So I did the stand on pedal and push with other foot thing, and managed to get home in about 40 minutes. 40 minutes of literally back-buggering work, but anyway. I felt quite proud, if bikeless.
So the next day I decide to walk all the way round Richmond Park. 7 miles! As soon as I get there, I realise it'll be much more fun to walk through the middle of the park, where it actually feels rather rural and medieval (Henry VIII and other monarchs used to hunt there). It was amazing - the beautiful weather continues (even as I write this), and all felt well in the world.
That afternoon, a friend came round and we didn't fancy staying in, so I set out on my aching feet for another walk, this time round Barnes Common. Except it ended up being *literally* around the common, as a jovial young policeman stopped us heading off into the interior (is that a tautology?) because "we're blowing up a bomb in there". Blimey!!! So, naturally, we slunk off, wandering around nearby so that we could see the full majesty of the bomb squad at work. Thirty minutes later, a dull thud, followed by the nee-naw of a fire engine (who, we thought, should probably have been on standby when the bomb actually exploded), and that was it. No massed ranks of coppers, nothing. We couldn't even find where the blast had taken place. What a con!
Then Thursday. Belle and Sebastian played a gig on Wednesday night, and much to my excitement, Struan announced that there'd be a meet-up the following day for footie at the Albert memorial! Wow! I had a work-related meeting (which *may* lead to me getting a job, Christ on a bike), which I headed to on my scooter, before taking a quick coffee and heading off west to kensington Gardens.
Except I didn't. After 30 seconds, my bike conks out. I wheel it back to the bike parking place in Holborn and set off forlornly on foot. The footie is good fun, if exhausting - the last thing my legs need today is a thirty minute walk in the sun lugging a 200-pound moped, but hell, they're getting it! I'm having to take it along to a reasonably local bike repair shop, where, if it's a simple problem, it'll be sorted out. If it's not - fuck, I don't even want to think about it. Grrr.
Also last night I saw my lovely ex-girlfriend of 5 weeks. It was really good to see her, though after a while (and a couple of drinks) the melancholy started seeping back, so I went home.
And that's it! My most prosaic journal entry yet, but hell, at least it tells stuff.
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[27 Mar 2002|11:46am] |
Hello!
A quite bouncy start to the day for me, maybe due to the arrival of the British spring. This week has been glorious so far, and gave me one of the highlights of recent months. Yesterday morning, after staying at a friend's house fairly nearby, I decided to sod public transport and walk all the way home. This took me through Chelsea and Fulham, two of the more comfortable suburbs of London, before I crossed Putney bridge and stood, not staring, just gazing, out over the river as it sweeps up towards Hammersmith.
There are river walks available, but I did need to get home at some point, so I strolled past the boathouses, jeeps and people carriers down to Beverley Brook, a cute stream that runs through Barnes and Putney to the river. Another wistful but smiley halt by the brook, which was disappointingly non-babbling, but rather resonating with birds and small, unseen animals. I then strode out (or not - I was a little hungover, and I'd been walking for an hour) across Putney Common, which led me into the quiet, beautifully tended suburban streets that are so well hidden I'd never seen them after 28 years in this part of the world.
Seeing these smart houses and their auras of easy wealth and happy children added a bourgeois fantasy element to my reveries, but that's okay - I'm too old to be ashamed of my upbringing and my middle-class dreams. And when I reached my 60s ex-council flat, I realised that even the graffiti had all been cleaned off, and my narcissi were sprouting new flowers.
What a wonderful, life-affirming treat.
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[19 Mar 2002|08:34pm] |
Today's a new day, but my life isn't new in any way. Or rather, it's new in negative, or at least empty, ways.
I no longer have a job, a girlfriend or a car. Only the latter is 100% bad news, but it's still strange to have voids in my life when previously it may not have always been happy, but it had a sense of completeness. On the other side of the coin, I have every opportunity in the world to find happiness. True. So why am I umming and aahing and delaying looking for that happiness?
In the relationship corner, there's an easy and logical answer. Three weeks is not long enough to be single after a near-four-year relationship. I wouldn't want a girlfriend at present; I probably wouldn't know what to do with one if she fell in my lap :-) I'm even frightened of the thought of having any kind of romantic liaison. My mind seems to have well and truly switched into the kind of "if I start something, I should at least hope it'll be for keeps" - in honesty it did a while ago, but now it's in stark relief.
And, contrary to popular opinion, I'm not the kind of boy to shag around. There have been times when I've idealised the notion, but it's just not me. This is, I think, a good thing.
(the above paragraph may give the impression that I'd even be *able* to seduce women willy-nilly. I'm not, trust me. but then again, you can see my photo :-))
Anyway, I miss my ex. I don't think it was the wrong decision, but I miss her caring, loving, generous, honest and thoughtful ways. Sigh, as ever.
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[18 Mar 2002|09:38pm] |
It's disgusting I haven't done this for two weeks. There is really so litte going on in my life.
Though... I don't know if that's true. For some reason I find it hard to talk about anything that actually *happens*, mainly because it's either personal or might sound wanky. So I end up simply discussing pissy little thoughts that run through my head, mostly when I'm in the loo.
One day I'll do this for real.
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[04 Mar 2002|11:26am] |
Morning livejournal, it's been a while.
It's the beginning of a new week, and my levels of job-hunting motivation, which should be flapping like a particularly cheery sea-lion pup, are already on the floor, barely twitching. My metaphor-mixing skills, however, are improving apace.
I'm going to Scotland tomorrow, so hopefully lots of exciting things will happen which I can tell you all about when I get back! Woo!
(a thought: is it only 13-year-old girls who actually address their journals, or does everyone do it? I fear it's the former. I never was a 13-year-old girl - I wonder what it's like?)
(and how come almost every sentence I've written in this journal has been in the form of a question? Who do I think is going to provide the answers? Heh?)
Mandee's sister thinks I'm a suckup. She's right, you know. But I've always been frustrated with the fact that insults are easy as pie to chuck about, to friends and foes alike, but when you start actually complimenting someone (assuming, of course, that you're not trying to get into their pants), suspicion and awkwardness blossoms. Well, frankly, I don't mind if anyone says I'm great. I may briefly blush, but I'll love them for it :-)
Anyway... that's all for today. Have a good one yourselves.
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[26 Feb 2002|04:59pm] |
Children's TV. has it got worse, or have I got more cynical? Maybe it's because children's TV is now my job, and I can see flaws that I'd have skimmed over before. More likely it's just because it's no longer aimed at me.
Anyway, I suppose it's up to me to MAKE it better. But the job I've been applying for today is in drama, and I'm not really up on that. So I'm forcing myself to watch children's TV in the afternoons :-) Oh, this unemployment lark is a hard life...
What else has happened? Little. Going swimming every day is a nice focus to have, and it does seem to be working, but it means that I over-relax afterwards and do bugger all of use. The relaxation is largely a good thing, when I do it properly, but getting the balance right is the killer. For some reason I always end up on the can't-be-arsed side of the fence. Hmm.
Over and out,
Mark
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[23 Feb 2002|04:44pm] |
My second entry, except it's really my third, after a phenomenally vague effort last night was gobbled by my computer. Reader (snort), you had a lucky escape.
I need to decide whether to do this daily, as a kind of discipline thing (a word I use rather too much in relation to my life and attitude thereto), or whether I should update whenever inspiration hits me. As this is likely to happen every 6 months or so, I might try the former. At the very least it'll function as a mundane record of my thinkings and doings, which can't be a bad thing. It's funny how self-conscious it's turning out already - while I AM writing this for my own benefit, I'm still assuming an audience. Which really is silly.
So let's try recounting something else. Nah, let's not.
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| Is your ctrl button furry? |
[22 Feb 2002|10:20am] |
I seem to do most of my thinking in the lavatory. I suppose this is because I'm focused on the job in hand (so to speak), but it doesn't require a level of concentration that prevents free thought. Unlike, it would seem , for my flatmate's boyfriend, who leaves little swirls of yellow all the way around the rim. Which is funny, as he always pees straight in the water (I know this, my bedroom is next to the loo, and once he's woken me up by slamming the door, I hear every last tinkle). Perhaps he has a "broken pipe" (hilarious IRC joke, haha).
What a way to start my first entry. This journal is supposed to help me develop my creative writing skills (whatever the hell that means), but it's going to just be a kind of abstract diary, I expect. Maybe occasionally there'll be some free verse, the odd epic saga or two, a song! a dance!, you know the kind of thing. I wonder though.
No first entry would be complete without massive props and thanks to Mandee May, who set me up with this whole caboodle. What a swell laydee.
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