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.