Sunday, 30 November 2008

So Here We Are... Again.

So my UCAS application has been completed, filled out, and I used my mom's credit card to pay the £7 to send it off to Goldsmiths for application. I'm scared. Shit scared. I've done this before, so it's old hack to me, I guess, but this time it's different. This time if I get rejected, that's it. Game over, find something else to do. So now I'm just playing the waiting game.

I'm four songs into the album, including a rather lovely number about sitcom romance. The songs are coming easier than I though they would, which is probably just due to not having written in a while. It might be a bad sign, but I'll wait until the intense self-doubting stage of compostion stage of writing before I confirm this. I've also started work on a sketch show, as well as a stand up show. The sketch show will probably never get picked up, unless I do, and the stand up is really just in case I go somewhere were improvisation just won't do, as I generally prefer going with what comes to me on the roll.

So I guess creatively, things are looking up. Which is good as my insomnia is going into overdrive, and I'm really starting to long for the city. Listening to Bloc Party brings back all the memories, sights, sounds and the feel of the cold London air on my face. I miss Berlin, too. I wanna go back to Kreuzberg, and see the East Side Gallery again. Inner city beauty.
My sleeping problems aren't helped by the baby wailing 24/7 in the room next door to mine. I will never understand my neighbours decision to put a 1 year old next to an 18 year old, but what can you do? What indeed can you do, apart from turn the speakers around so their pointing towards said baby, and play the theme music to The Magic Roundabout.. Sweet dreams with that psycho music, kid!


P.S - Whilst searching for The Magic Roundabout I came across this rather charming remix. It's just a couple of days older than me!

P.P.S - Hi! To my one follower.. Thanks for being all nice and clicking 'Follow'.

Friday, 31 October 2008

Follow me.

So apparently, after my extensive advertising, this blog is starting to get some notice. So I don't have to clog the internet with needless spamming everytime, you can follow me. If you look down the bottom of the right hand column, there's a little box entitled 'Followers'. At the moment, I don't have any, (poor, poor, me) but you can change this! With just one click, you can support me, and get all my blogs without having to search for me.
Good news all 'round!


Thursday, 30 October 2008

Then they hit you with the Rescue Blues..

I'm in a wierd place right now. It feels like I'm okay, but everything around me is collapsing. That may not necessarily be true, but that's how it feels. As far as I know, I'm not depressed, and I'm not facing any mania. I'm 'content', if you will. However, the world around me seems to be far from content. Loved ones are having problems, some don't seem to be talking to me anymore, and others can't get online to talk to me, or to perv on 'House'. Mentally, I'm in a very wierd place - facing, as I am, for the first time, having to depend on no one, but myself.

I think the fear of this may be what's causing this sudden awareness of the failures of the world around me. I watched a video for 'Change' by the Budweiser guys, which brought me right down, and made me want to flee this doomed planet. Perhaps it is merely a sudden bout of realism I am facing. Those of you that know me, will be aware that one of my biggest fears is that I'm just in a barn, having one big schizophrenic episode.
In a way, I've recently come face to face with this fear, realising that all my ambition, ego, and inflated opinion of myself may not just be arrogance, but in fact just a manic delusion brought about by my bi-polarity. I'm considering getting help, so allay this fear, but I'm not sure. Maybe it's a good thing? I did a bulletin today that asked me: "Do you believe that if you want something bad enough you will get it?". I answered 'No', but what if it's true. Maybe my delusions/arrogance will eventually be the force to get me up, and achieving my dreams - Something I'm lightyears away from at the moment.

So many questions, so few answers, and a whole dose of realism. Combine that with isolation from my friends, an increased dependance on the family I loathe so deeply, and I guess I'm bound to be in a wierd place. I guess the only thing to do, is fight through it.

Love you all..


Monday, 20 October 2008

A little bit conned...

So I've just got back from a weekend away, at my uncle's house in Sussex, and I can't help but feel a little bit robbed.

I was originally going to stay at home, or at least stay in Dorset, whilst my parents went away for a long weekend to celebrate their 27th Anniversary. I didn't have much planned, but with the £20 I was going to get I was going to either purchase vodka and sleeping pills, or other mind-alterating substances, and escape reality for a few days. Either that or pester friends online, ans work my way through yet more Jeeves and Wooster (I'm on a Stephen Fry binge atm.. Even more than usual). However, after a small incident involving Whisky, The Libertine, and shedloads of tears on Wednesday night, my parents decided that it was unsafe to leave me alone and invited/forced me along with them for the weekend, with the promise of alcohol, guitaring, lots of personal space, and a beach to myself. So, reluctantly at first, but eventually with enthusiasm, I agreed (despite the necessary arrangements having already been made).

Friday, for me started early, packing my bags at 6:00 in the morning, having been up since 2:00pm the previous day. I must admit, it was lovely. Chatting to Casey (the only other person to have such insanely stupid sleeping habits as me), packing my bags, then boiling a pot of tea, sipping out of a cup and saucer, watching the foggy sunrise, reading Pullman, and listening to Ghost Song on repeat. Eventually my parents awoke, my mother at first, then my gargantuan father from his dark, dank lair, and we were off! I expected to sleep in the car, but due to a fantastic soundtack, chosen by me, I fell not into the arms of Morpheus, and spent the rest of the day pepped on Pro Plus. My uncle's house at first provided everything I expected of it, and wine, food, and coversation flowed merrily, and I as I collapsed into bed ridiculously early, at 8:00 in the evening, I felt sure I'd done good leaving home.

However, this is when things started to take a downward turn. My father, who has long openly admitted to his disappointment of my achievements, seemed to be trying to copy me. I don't like my Dad at the very best of times, and watching him imitate everything I do, and decide to buy every little thing that my uncle posesses, drove me to the edges of my sanity. He started using long, contrived sentances, elevating his language, and seemed to be constantly seeking laughter. Then he started talking about how "he's joining Giles these days, neither of us can sleep at all", implying that me and him have a) anything in common, and b) various midnight adventures. He started going on about his love for Patrick Wolf, and understands why he has the "huge following he does". However, I have coped with my Dad for 18 years now, and I was not going to let his continued presence in my life ruin my weekend.

The sudden appearance of my other uncle (Andy), and his smarmy, false, bitch of a wife, on Sunday, however did nothing to alleviate my woes. Brief though it might have been, nothing grates my gears like middle class whinging, especially about the state of the education system, especially an hour solid of it. I was also, for the fifth time, asked about my future in front of my parents; An uncomfortable topic, as I have yet to divulge my plans, which I am doubtless they will dissapprove of, and an annoying one, as my mother tends to patronisingly mention my musical ambitions, and then unload all of her expectations upon me. It was particulary grating as well, as my cousin, Andy's son, is currently doing exactly what I want to do next year. This would be a good thing, had my uncle not mentioned his son's activities to my parents, meaning my parents are now researching and pushing me toward the very things that I've already researched and chosen.

In the end, it was never that bad. It was nice to see my uncle, I do love him, and he's by far my favourite relative after my brother. In itself, the weekend was good - Walks, alcohol, and his sweeeeet guitar (a real joy to play). But in comparison to the care and woe-free escape I was promised, and what I could have achieved had I stayed home, it fell far short of expectations. The journey back was particulary hellsome, when a well meaning comment from my mother sent me into a spiral of disrepair and depression, when she simply asked when I was going to start writing songs again.
I can't help but feel that I need another break. A real one, where I can work, away from the destructive and disgusting corruptive influences of my father. Methinks when work comes, and money starts a-flowing, a trip to Cornwall, Paris, or Berlin is needed.

Much love.


Monday, 13 October 2008


Okay, so.

Without a laptop, any music, any friends (bloody uni) and without, it seems, a job, I am in somewhat of a dark place right now. I have however finally remembered what my password was, and made a few changes on here. The creative juices have apparently fled my body, almost like rats leaving a sinking ship, or Bill Bailey leaving commerical TV. As such I am pretty much fucked until I either get myself sorted out, or until the mania comes again.
In response to this, the essay like posts of this blog in history will no longer be the norm. I haven't actually decided on any sort of norm as yet, but I suspect that, like me, it will be a mish-mash of various things. Some pretentious mind-wanking 'blessays', some mundane self-absorbed diary entries, and a couple cool links. I cannot, however, vouch for the regularity, or sanity of my further blogs.

At the moment I'm struggling to find myself a job. The plan is to get some money for the time being, then jet off to work with a resort (Mark Warner, for example) in somewhere nice like Greece or Turkey, pulling pints and entertaining the residents. Then, with as much money as I can get crammed into my britches, I will be off around Europe, armed with a guitar and a fabric shelving system (Thanks go to my Godmother, for keeping me organised), to return to England sometime in 2010, with some sort of idea as to what I want to do university wise. That is, of course, if I haven't been snapped up by a major record label, who simply love me.

Peace out.


Monday, 19 May 2008

New posts, podcasts, and news!

Hey all!

I'm back - and in the thick of A2 exams! Bad times! Wrote a letter of complaint that I thought might interest y'all, so I put it up on here. Sorry it's taken so long to put anything up, but I've only just got my laptop back up.

So as you can see from my revised profile, I've got my uni choices sorted out... as well as my plans for the next year! Hopefully (grades dependent) I'm going to Kingston to read Music. I can do a lot of popular music on this course, but I can also take conducting in my final year, which is something I've always wanted to do. The more observant of you out there will have noticed that this week Kingston was in the news, having fixed their rankings. Apparently they told students "If you think something's a four... give it a five!". I might have to get some T-Shirts made up for Fresher's Week with that in mind!

Before that though, we have the European tour... Just me on my onesome, and whoever will come along and visit. You're all more than welcome! I'll be staying in France, probably around gay Paris from November until Christmas, then returning to see the folks, then off heading eastward, until I re-enter the UK, in the north, from Norway. It should be fun... I've got an EP's worth of material ready, just need a bit more.

In other news - Giles passes his Grade 8 singing with Distinction! Whoop whoop! After only three weeks of training, so I'm a bit chuffed. The 'rents are getting me a baritone ukulele as a well done present, and I've already ordered the accordion for my birthday. Jack of all trades I might well be, but I'll at least look cool!!
I should also, hopefully, be including podcasts within the foreseeable future. It will include something a bit like this, some clips of any performances I've done, and maybe a song if you're lucky. Check them out when I get them up!

I do often wonder who looks at this. I think it's unlikely I have any dedicated followers, but if there is anyone out there clinging to my every word, please comment me, or message me to let me know. Indeed, even if you're just passing by, please feel free to comment, to let me know what you think of it. Would be nice to know who I'm talking to!!

Hope you're all ok.

Wish me luck with the A-Levels...

Peace Out


A Little Ignorance is a Dangerous Thing

Dear Sir or Madam,

I was surprised when I read your article entitled ‘No Child is Safe’ (15/05/08). My surprise was mainly due to your blatant ignorance of both a journalist’s duty to inform correctly, and of how to maintain any grip on reality as you publish the garbage you call news. As I peruse the daily issues day after day, as reported in your fascist tabloid, (it is provided through my school – I would never spend money on such rubbish) I am filled with despair that as your fanatical paper gets more and more widely read, the average degree of intelligence, wisdom, and integrity falls lower and lower.

You open the report with a story provided by the parents of poor Hannah Bond. I mean no ill will to the family of this poor schoolgirl, but might I suggest were my parents as out of touch with my lifestyle as Hannah’s obviously were, I would struggle to stay happy and not to ‘give up’. I cannot say how much of what the Bond’s report is actually true, and what is fallacy made up by yourselves, the parents, or the child, but I can deny the accuracy of the report.

Your opening paragraphs describing ‘emo’ are riddled with mistakes. Blink 182, one of the bands mentioned, broke up before being emo became popular, and their songs rarely, if anything mentioned (never mind ‘promoted’) death. “Does My Breath Smell?”, “Romeo and Rebecca”, and “I Like Your Hair” are just some of the many trivial and light hearted songs the band wrote – hardly filled ‘with emotional lyrics’. You then went on to describe a wrist slitting ‘initiation ceremony’, as if it was just another way to join a cult. This does nothing but cheapen the pain that many neglected and hurt children go through, and the only outlet they can find that will perhaps bring them some care.

In fact, cheapen and lie is all your article really does do. Some of the inaccuracies you publish are astounding. Apparently Hannah Bond:

“Secretly chatted online to emo followers all over the world, talking about death, and of the ‘black parade’ – a place where emos believe they go to after they die.”

I can hardly believe she chatted to emo’s “all over the world” as the majority of these children, are shy, introvert, and hardly likely to address strangers in other countries. However, giving you the benefit of the doubt, I then read that emos believe they join the ‘black parade’, after death, as opposed to the more conventional afterlife. ‘The Black Parade’ was an album by ‘My Chemical Romance’, one of the bands mentioned earlier in your article. The idea of a black parade comes from singer Gerard Way, but is nothing more than an interesting lyric, and an interesting ponderance of death. They may well be talking about the Black Parade, but unless these children are as ill educated as some of your other articles (and indeed the average quality of the writing within The Daily Mail) would indicate, they do not believe they go there after death.

By this time, I was angered beyond belief, but, before relegating the paper to it’s rightful home in the bin, I carried on, hoping in vain, and against my better knowledge and experience of The Daily Mail, that the article would redeem itself. It did not. You carried on, making generalisations, inaccuracies, and generating pure lies until the very end. It seems as if the article was written by a ‘hoodie’ or a ‘chav’ – one of the many other young victims of The Daily Mail’s relentless campaign to distress, and to stir up hatred. The worst crime emo’s seemed to have been accused of is being emotional, and revelling in self-pity. Might I remind Tom Rawstorne, in his ignorance, that some of Britain’s most popular poetry was composed by a contingent of young people that did just that: The Romantic’s. In fact, a cursory glance across many of Keats’s poems reveal more emotional words, and more death-laden meanings than many emo bands can ever hope to achieve. Should we ban these? Is Ode to a Nightingale ‘deeply unhealthy’?

It seems your radical report on the state of young people in today’s society was typical of your shoddy journalistic style. Angry about something you know nothing about. I am not an emo, nor do I defend them. They annoy me, as they do many people. But they are not dangerous. They are not unhinged, and they are certainly not suicidal head cases like you make them out to be. By fuelling an argument against a style that has done, and will continue to do, no harm, the young children quoted in your article, demean depression, and also those that must turn to others, and other’s music to help them.

Once again The Daily Mail is guilty of producing a sub-standard article, in a sub-standard paper that fuels racism, fascist views, and incites hatred of all that is different. You cater to the ignorant, and the fearful, and knowingly take full advantage of the trust they place in your columns, opinions, and articles. As the ‘Daily Newspaper of the Year’, you have a duty to inform the country, and promote ideas of equality, righteousness, and morality, instead of writing down the populist, anti-government, anti-immigration, anti-capitalist shite that you moan about over breakfast.

Yours sincerely,

Mr G. Baggott

Click here to see the offending article...

Friday, 7 March 2008

Viruses and Apologies

Hello all!

Really sorry about the delay in the next column coming out. I know you're all waiting on tenterhooks. I've been particularily busy of late, poor excuse though it is, and today I was given the news that my most prized possession - my laptop - fell foul of some computer virus named Tumblebug. It would have destroyed my motherboard if they hadn't found it replacing my DVD drive. Unfortunately it was too late to save the hard drive and subsequently I have lost everything - Music, iTunes, Blogs, Photo's, Coursework, and Lyrics.

And, being the fool I am - None of it is backed up.

On the plus side though - King Blues' album should be coming through the post today. =D

Much love, and hope you're all well.


The news is bleak !!!!! I sat down and checked your laptop and they have
put in a new processor, motherboard, memory and DVD drive. I telephoned
them today to ask if they took a copy of the hard drive and I spoke to
the actual mechanic who repaired your LT. He said the main trouble can
be traced to the motherboard as you had a clone virus installed on your
hard drive which started to corrupt the motherboard, then memory and
finally disabled the ability for you to back up your system files. I
assume you found this out when you tried to back up on your pen
drive???? All in all your machine would have collapsed in about 4 weeks
and all you would know about it would be the message on your screen
saying Tumblebug has struck. I have checked with AVD and they say that
their virus checker can pick up Tumblebug at the time of infection but
once it gets into the registry it is just a matter of time before it
destroys your machine. Median did indicate that they did consider
charging us for the repairs but as the key and DVD failed they accepted
the liability under guarantee. Their advice - run the virus checker at
least once a week. Sanitise and Immunise your LT weekly and make sure
the updates are installed. Finally they assumed you backed up your LT
each day - is this correct? I suspect not as I don't either, but I shall
from now on. Not the news you wanted. I am sorry about all your stuff
but this is a horrendous learning curve for all of us.

Friday, 25 January 2008

RIP Excess

I miss the good old days. Not that I was alive to experience them, but I hear they were pretty good: Free love, drugs on tap, and no annoying government ministers or jumped up pastry chefs telling us how to run our lives, or care for our bodies. It appears that now you can’t even chew gum, without a government warning declaring that excessive consumption may cause diarrhoea. Whilst the innocence surrounding drugs disappeared quickly, smoking has gradually changed from a sociable habit, to a social faux pas, and is now the equivalent of waving a large banner reading: ‘Judge me! I’m a reckless fool!’ above your head. Long gone are the days when people looked up to the libertines of their era, shooting several boatloads of pure heroin into their foreskin, going onstage, insulting the crowd’s mothers, then dying halfway through an attack on the monarchy. Nowadays, a band looks out of place if they’re not wearing a crisply ironed tuxedo. Artists that check into a clinic can safely say goodbye to their career, and get ready for a lifetime of writing books titled : ‘Me and Charlie -Overcoming Addiction.’, as the only way to sustain their escalating and publically ongoing habit. People today are more concerned about their health than ever, to the extent that the front page of the widely- read Daily Racist for the last month has been about the poor victims of a virus that is, essentially, jumped up food poisoning.
So it seems that we have kissed goodbye to rock ‘n’ roll excess, a lamentable fact that will be lost on the conservative world of today. But, to the unhappy few, that long for the days where you weren’t supposed to be able to see your date through the smoke filled air of the pub, this is a real cause for mourning; black armbands and all. For it forces the person to experience reality, in all its injustice and pain. It removes the stabilizers, and takes away the mattress, meaning that when you fall, you fall hard. By clearing the smoke, it forces you to see that the shapely figure you were surveying, is marred by a hideously disfigured face. To this small band of buggered it means that finally, we have to actually feel pain, as opposed to listening about it in songs, and dreaming about it in opium-fueled stupors. I can’t say this for certain, but I’m pretty sure that you’ll find that there are more suicides per year today, then there were back in the days when cocaine was offered as an hors d’oeuvre. Simply because people nowadays are rapidly running out of ways to comfort the pain of living.
Now I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that we (most of us) have more mature attitudes to drugs, alcohol and sex, or that we have less overdoses per year, better treatment for addicts and better knowledge of the dangers of using and sharing. Of course it’s not. It would be akin to claim that it’s a pity we broke off the Holocaust. But what I am saying is that we, all of us have room for a little more excess in our lives, and time for a few more vices. Life is bloody hard to get through without some sort of support, and so, the next time you see a drunk staggering home from the pub, or see some teens having a crafty joint in the park, don’t be so quick to judge. Because a decade or two earlier, or in different situations, that could’ve just as easily been you.