"And like a familiar benevolent enveloping warm, the spark of creativity returned."
"Holding your head under a towel and hot water and lemons is as much a relief from life as it is congested sinuses."
"Phase one of the plan is an extended period of silence."
"What would you do if I did a thing that was really annoying and it really annoyed you, would you be annoyed?"
I'm ill. So ill. Well, not that ill. I don't do ill well. I shudder to think how I'd handle a life-changing diagnosis. Probably freak out.
I caught my illness during freshers week, ironically its nothing that can be termed "Freshers Flu." Classes start back next week and I have prepared myself little to none. No extra reading done for dissertation. No books bought. As it is it looks like i'll be diving into Honours head-first. I'll fret now but it will be fine. The timetables also went out sometime recently, and I'm in every day, but it looks like Strathclyde's Sociology department are very receptive to the body clocks of their students, and not a single class choice, lecture or tutorial occurs before 11. Thus it's an hour to 2 hours every day, which is magic for going to the library and working. Or getting high.
The Delgados
I'm revisiting them once again. Beautiful, jarring and poetic pop, so out of its time and forward thinking. I stutter at my usual archive panic with their albums, but as youtube seems to kindly host most of their discography I'm getting into the vibe in a random order (by clicking random links on the suggestion vids on the right hand side)
Monday, 17 September 2012
Saturday, 15 September 2012
All This Nonsense Happening Is Frazzling My Mind
"that cold is an omen...don't go back to the old streets or the old house... ever."
"the same man, with broken, charred teeth and a permanent broken, chapped frown gets on the same train as me every day at bellgrove and moves up to the top of the train ready to leave the train at queen street as close as possible to the ticket people, most likely to beat the oncoming rush of commuters at half 4 from the more central stations, the ones too close to queen street so the ticket inspectors don't/can't be bothered. Maybe I'll see him every day for the rest of eternity and eventually we'll strike up an unlikely friendship. or probably not, he looks old, alcoholic, irascible and likely smells. oh well, plenty more fish in the sea."
It's Real
It really is real. Real as in, summer is over and university starts back incredibly soon, and life reverts to normal, as they say. Well, summers are usually up and down for me (I suppose they are for everyone in the bipolar Scottish climate) but this one just sped by fleetingly, effectively making my last summer before my last year at university a crap one. My ingenius work schedule plan to give me a plethora of free time turned out badly as it emerges that people don't tend to do things from Mondays to Wednesdays. So as it is most of the things I did and people I saw and events I..undertook occurred before working the next morning. And predictably, the weather was a bit crap.
I can't shake the feeling that this summer was wasted. Perhaps they all start to trickle down the excitement drain of life as you stop getting a 'summer' away from the institution that makes you look forward to a reprieve from it.
Oh well. Starting back 4th year and winter will just have to be the most fun imaginable in those circumstances. They're frazzling my mind.
Sweden
It was fun. 7 days august into september with Billie, flying BA, staying in a lovely house in the middle of Stockholm (Billie's mum Gitte's friend from art school Marlin's mum's 'Winter house' meaning not the house she stays in during summer - the family are loaded). Days 1 through 5 were much fun, seeing old sites and returning to the house I used to live in in Enskede. The place is still as creepy as before and I even ventured into the creepy forest adjacent to it with video camera and Billie in tow. Also walked past my old school, Stockholm International School (International School of Stockholm when I was there) but didn't feel appropriate venturing in. It was actually a bit sad/nostalgic visiting them places, I always felt Sweden was a strange time in my life, less like a foreign adventure than an extended 'paradox' minigame level, in which I was suddenly whisked away there then ripped away from it and ushered back, more by fate than employment commitments. Despite getting a bit stressed out by the Sunday, and worn out by the monday, we thoroughly enjoyed the fun. Swedish people are largely a nice bunch, although their drink prices are insane (£7.50 for a glass of white wine, though I hear it's a similar story across other places in Europe, the touristey one). If anything it's instilled a niche for travelling, something I previously shunned as financially infeasible and needless, as I was pretty happy in sunny Glasgow. Hoping to go to Berlin, Amsterdam and possibly somewhere in France next year, and have a sizeable amount of people interested in it.
My new favourite song at the moment. My musical obsessions were bent on Yuck for a while, but Wild Nothing's neo-shoegaze pop is very alluring at this wistful, strange time of year (I hate September and so does America and Billie Joe Armstrong). Hopefully going to review him on 30th November, and if someone else snaps it up then so be it, I'll fork out the 8 quid.
"I'm stoned as fuck every day, 20 bags are getting smaller and smaller and food isn't tasting quite as good."
"My laptop's in the repair shop getting fixed again, goodbye £35."
"Once again consigned to the overdraft. I can't look after this damn money at all. Time for some serious money saving planning."
"Oh God, how much will Pukka pads cost this year?"
"I'm too ill even to get a hard on. It's frazzling my mind."
"the same man, with broken, charred teeth and a permanent broken, chapped frown gets on the same train as me every day at bellgrove and moves up to the top of the train ready to leave the train at queen street as close as possible to the ticket people, most likely to beat the oncoming rush of commuters at half 4 from the more central stations, the ones too close to queen street so the ticket inspectors don't/can't be bothered. Maybe I'll see him every day for the rest of eternity and eventually we'll strike up an unlikely friendship. or probably not, he looks old, alcoholic, irascible and likely smells. oh well, plenty more fish in the sea."
It's Real
It really is real. Real as in, summer is over and university starts back incredibly soon, and life reverts to normal, as they say. Well, summers are usually up and down for me (I suppose they are for everyone in the bipolar Scottish climate) but this one just sped by fleetingly, effectively making my last summer before my last year at university a crap one. My ingenius work schedule plan to give me a plethora of free time turned out badly as it emerges that people don't tend to do things from Mondays to Wednesdays. So as it is most of the things I did and people I saw and events I..undertook occurred before working the next morning. And predictably, the weather was a bit crap.
I can't shake the feeling that this summer was wasted. Perhaps they all start to trickle down the excitement drain of life as you stop getting a 'summer' away from the institution that makes you look forward to a reprieve from it.
Oh well. Starting back 4th year and winter will just have to be the most fun imaginable in those circumstances. They're frazzling my mind.
Sweden
It was fun. 7 days august into september with Billie, flying BA, staying in a lovely house in the middle of Stockholm (Billie's mum Gitte's friend from art school Marlin's mum's 'Winter house' meaning not the house she stays in during summer - the family are loaded). Days 1 through 5 were much fun, seeing old sites and returning to the house I used to live in in Enskede. The place is still as creepy as before and I even ventured into the creepy forest adjacent to it with video camera and Billie in tow. Also walked past my old school, Stockholm International School (International School of Stockholm when I was there) but didn't feel appropriate venturing in. It was actually a bit sad/nostalgic visiting them places, I always felt Sweden was a strange time in my life, less like a foreign adventure than an extended 'paradox' minigame level, in which I was suddenly whisked away there then ripped away from it and ushered back, more by fate than employment commitments. Despite getting a bit stressed out by the Sunday, and worn out by the monday, we thoroughly enjoyed the fun. Swedish people are largely a nice bunch, although their drink prices are insane (£7.50 for a glass of white wine, though I hear it's a similar story across other places in Europe, the touristey one). If anything it's instilled a niche for travelling, something I previously shunned as financially infeasible and needless, as I was pretty happy in sunny Glasgow. Hoping to go to Berlin, Amsterdam and possibly somewhere in France next year, and have a sizeable amount of people interested in it.
"I'm stoned as fuck every day, 20 bags are getting smaller and smaller and food isn't tasting quite as good."
"My laptop's in the repair shop getting fixed again, goodbye £35."
"Once again consigned to the overdraft. I can't look after this damn money at all. Time for some serious money saving planning."
"Oh God, how much will Pukka pads cost this year?"
"I'm too ill even to get a hard on. It's frazzling my mind."
Monday, 20 August 2012
Frightened Rabbit - State Hospital
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFoiQD45iv0&feature=player_embedded
So yeah, Frightened Rabbit are doing that "free EP" thing again, not that that is a bad thing (however sarcastic or cutting that previous statement came across over the choice of words, it wasn't). The first we're hearing from them properly in ages is a reverb'ed up, all rousing and building chest-pounding pop anthem. Seems like they're taking some cues from Meursault, whom ironically owe a significant stylistic debt to Frightened Rabbit in return.
The aforementioned chest pounding, rolling drums that tend to hallmark FR songs are subtle and pop up into action when they need to for a big moment. And the sparse and interconnecting guitar/keyboard licks serve up well for the "epic lo-fi" thing that's flying about these days. And of course, Scott's vocals and lyrics are ubiquitous and on form, but the "heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs" refrain veers into corny territory (for this listener at least - then again I found "Jesus is just a spanish boy's name" a bit too silly to hit home as well)
Geography points for the vid's sparkly overheads of Glasgow as well, ugly gas towers and all.
So yeah, Frightened Rabbit are doing that "free EP" thing again, not that that is a bad thing (however sarcastic or cutting that previous statement came across over the choice of words, it wasn't). The first we're hearing from them properly in ages is a reverb'ed up, all rousing and building chest-pounding pop anthem. Seems like they're taking some cues from Meursault, whom ironically owe a significant stylistic debt to Frightened Rabbit in return.
The aforementioned chest pounding, rolling drums that tend to hallmark FR songs are subtle and pop up into action when they need to for a big moment. And the sparse and interconnecting guitar/keyboard licks serve up well for the "epic lo-fi" thing that's flying about these days. And of course, Scott's vocals and lyrics are ubiquitous and on form, but the "heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs" refrain veers into corny territory (for this listener at least - then again I found "Jesus is just a spanish boy's name" a bit too silly to hit home as well)
Geography points for the vid's sparkly overheads of Glasgow as well, ugly gas towers and all.
Friday, 27 July 2012
Awkward
Last week i returned to a hairdresser that I used to go to, before I found one that cuts my hair much closer to the painfully exact and obsessive specifications I have set in my head for the top of my head. As my current hairdresser was on holiday, and I needed a haircut badly, this was my only easy option. Returning to an old hairdresser (they work in the same salon) to me feels like a prodigal animal trudging slowly back towards whomever it betrayed and deserted for another. I was pretty sure I was either going to get a revenge shite cut or something equally nefarious for my crime. Or that's all just bored dramatising on my part. Regardless, the haircut hour came and I exchanged a pleasant and crucial hello. You see, this old hairdresser in question I had to leave because a) he was a rather attractive man, and the way hairdressers need to occupy an uncomfortable comfort space around your face and head made things anatomically and biologically difficult and b) the new girl I go to does it better and how I like it. So at the time it was all a seamless and necessary transition to go from old to new, and now new to old was proving weird already. Normally I give hairdressers all my chat and indulge in theirs, and I certainly did with this one. I always thought it a customary thing to do; you and your hairdresser had a professional yet personal and specific relationship, good haircuts justly earn loyalty, and your connection with them is enhanced with friendly, inane banter. Well this haircut was not to be an overall pleasant one. The first few minutes involved some chatter of the general work, play, what festivals? nature, then everything seemed to veer towards a very natural, preferred silence. Preferred in the sense that when the talking stopped, it actually seemed to improve the atmosphere. He just got on with the snipping and when it ended, I dutifully OK'ed the front and back of my head (he cut my fringe too short and gelled it to make me look like Simon from the Inbetweeners but I expected worse in the name of revenge) and made off into the day, quickly heading for the nearest shop window to properly inspect the damage myself. I guess this hairdresser thing is probably all just hoo-hah. Maybe there's no secret code of loyalty or scorned aftertastes of customers past.
More and more often I recognise people in work that I have had past histories with, or a bare connection in the distant past with. Frustratingly any actual conversation with them beyond the bounds of general introductory chatter is a non-starter, and the general nitter-natter itself is tense enough. As tasking as work conversations can be, this added level of tense familiarity only seems to make things worse. Many of these familiaries I have avoided altogether. And now it's too late to initiate any conversation, as it'll just seem forced.
Oh well.
More and more often I recognise people in work that I have had past histories with, or a bare connection in the distant past with. Frustratingly any actual conversation with them beyond the bounds of general introductory chatter is a non-starter, and the general nitter-natter itself is tense enough. As tasking as work conversations can be, this added level of tense familiarity only seems to make things worse. Many of these familiaries I have avoided altogether. And now it's too late to initiate any conversation, as it'll just seem forced.
Oh well.
Sunday, 15 July 2012
Tuesday Girl
Tuesday girl was thrown aback when she caught sight of her latest work schedule, that had her slaving away for a marathon number of days in the one go, effective next week until eternity. Previously her shift pattern had her drifting in and out the building a day in a go; in on a monday, off on a tuesday, in on a wednesday for a bit, in every 2nd alternating thursday with every alternating friday in between. then alternating between being in on a saturday one week and sunday the other, meaning sometimes she was in thursday, off friday, in saturday , off sunday and all sorts, and then sometimes off friday and saturday as things changed. they just changed. she didnt really care much for what reason they changed around sometimes but it suited her.
she never really wanted to feel too attached in that place. the transient working days weaving in and out of each other fitted in with her way of doing things, she came and went out of time, out of sight, out of mind.
that way, work never got on top of her and never dragged her down and set a wicked anchor down in her search for pleasure. but that time had came to an end, it would seem. due to another big change that she never really paid attention to, things were moving on and her transient days were over. she would now work set days, from saturday, to sunday, most of the morning and much of the best times of the afternoon, then monday and tuesday during the day and then off wednesday and thursday then in on a friday night.
and so it was. forever it would appear. her whitewash weekends were gone forever and hangover tuesdays were gone. she thought this was the end, her drinking groove was shattered, her adventuring times were unfeasible now. what would she do, where would she go, what would she see? she liked to listen to the drunks on the street on a vacant friday night; the drunks angry, discontent and unable to handle the moderate amount of alcohol they saved up all their energy and pennies from their drab, meaningless working week before. she liked to wander old train tracks and graveyards on an empty sunday.
wednesday and thursday became the only free days she had. at first she was at a loss but she asked Monday Boy for advice. dutifully he advised her she could go out on tuesday nights and wednesday nights, and of course there was plenty to do and see on those days.
"all your worries are for nothing." he reassured her.
Tuesday Girl took his words in her stride, but with some inherent trepidation. Trudging and plodding through a grey and dreary work week, she clumsily arrived at Tuesday evening. Throwing on a preferred pair of shoes and a suitable dress she headed out into the night. Who knew what she could expect?
Monday Boy never steered her right, and Wednesday Gal and Thursday Dude were obnoxious, vile and unsavoury creatures. But it would do for now.
she never really wanted to feel too attached in that place. the transient working days weaving in and out of each other fitted in with her way of doing things, she came and went out of time, out of sight, out of mind.
that way, work never got on top of her and never dragged her down and set a wicked anchor down in her search for pleasure. but that time had came to an end, it would seem. due to another big change that she never really paid attention to, things were moving on and her transient days were over. she would now work set days, from saturday, to sunday, most of the morning and much of the best times of the afternoon, then monday and tuesday during the day and then off wednesday and thursday then in on a friday night.
and so it was. forever it would appear. her whitewash weekends were gone forever and hangover tuesdays were gone. she thought this was the end, her drinking groove was shattered, her adventuring times were unfeasible now. what would she do, where would she go, what would she see? she liked to listen to the drunks on the street on a vacant friday night; the drunks angry, discontent and unable to handle the moderate amount of alcohol they saved up all their energy and pennies from their drab, meaningless working week before. she liked to wander old train tracks and graveyards on an empty sunday.
wednesday and thursday became the only free days she had. at first she was at a loss but she asked Monday Boy for advice. dutifully he advised her she could go out on tuesday nights and wednesday nights, and of course there was plenty to do and see on those days.
"all your worries are for nothing." he reassured her.
Tuesday Girl took his words in her stride, but with some inherent trepidation. Trudging and plodding through a grey and dreary work week, she clumsily arrived at Tuesday evening. Throwing on a preferred pair of shoes and a suitable dress she headed out into the night. Who knew what she could expect?
Monday Boy never steered her right, and Wednesday Gal and Thursday Dude were obnoxious, vile and unsavoury creatures. But it would do for now.
Wednesday, 13 June 2012
Plane Shame
Not a few moments ago I booked the third flight I have ever prepared and arranged for myself. This is also the first time I'll be travelling abroad, another thing that as will be revealed, I'm not crazy about.
Flying has been a pretty horrific and looming spectre in my life; planes are cramped, foosty and sterile cabins of death, not the luxurious high-tech glamorous and cosmopolitan engines of wonder that we knew them as before 9/11.
In fact as a youngster I vaguely remember plane journeys as exciting, whooshing, whirring, up in the sky, wahhhh, and so on. Then when the aforementioned 9/11 happened, and a year later a holiday to America that involved a bunch of 6 hour and 9 hour flights I found myself pretty traumatised by going on a plane, even going to the airport. Perhaps it's been this, coupled with a childhood that's always involved plane journeys as something never to be looked forward to (points for the socialisation breeds character ) argument.
Alas, on the 28th august I embark on my first proper flight, with connections and waiting times and all. Levying the pressure is myself and Billie (also travelling)'s choice to fly British Airways and avoid any of the stress and shit associated with the low cost ones. The snob in me has to subvert cost for comfort in this instance.
And I better get a bastarding camera in time for it
Flying has been a pretty horrific and looming spectre in my life; planes are cramped, foosty and sterile cabins of death, not the luxurious high-tech glamorous and cosmopolitan engines of wonder that we knew them as before 9/11.
In fact as a youngster I vaguely remember plane journeys as exciting, whooshing, whirring, up in the sky, wahhhh, and so on. Then when the aforementioned 9/11 happened, and a year later a holiday to America that involved a bunch of 6 hour and 9 hour flights I found myself pretty traumatised by going on a plane, even going to the airport. Perhaps it's been this, coupled with a childhood that's always involved plane journeys as something never to be looked forward to (points for the socialisation breeds character ) argument.
Alas, on the 28th august I embark on my first proper flight, with connections and waiting times and all. Levying the pressure is myself and Billie (also travelling)'s choice to fly British Airways and avoid any of the stress and shit associated with the low cost ones. The snob in me has to subvert cost for comfort in this instance.
And I better get a bastarding camera in time for it
Sunday, 13 May 2012
So What If Wind Farms Destroy The Countryside
I had an extremely archetypal Sunday. Bus into town with Emma and Al, coffee, errands and negotiating shitey East end buses on a sunday service back to the house of love. In the pishing rain.
It could've been a great Belle and Sebastian super 8-style video.
Anyway. Work is starting to click into place and applying for Sociology honours looks like it's gonna be in light years when and if they ever get our marks back. I'm too late to apply for politics anyway so I just have to sit tight. On a brighter note 4th year offers a "Journalism and Politics" module which hopefully offers a NCTJ qualification as a potential jobline to stranded Sociologists (Hey i may not be able to bake a cake or open a jar, but I sure can compare strains of feminism across historical periods)
Uch, I don't think im aiming for enlightenment or emotional catharsis with this blog anymore. I'm going to adopt a more conventional and partisan routine in future, find a current issue and discuss the hell out of it. It's a shame the world is mostly a boring place.
It could've been a great Belle and Sebastian super 8-style video.
Anyway. Work is starting to click into place and applying for Sociology honours looks like it's gonna be in light years when and if they ever get our marks back. I'm too late to apply for politics anyway so I just have to sit tight. On a brighter note 4th year offers a "Journalism and Politics" module which hopefully offers a NCTJ qualification as a potential jobline to stranded Sociologists (Hey i may not be able to bake a cake or open a jar, but I sure can compare strains of feminism across historical periods)
Uch, I don't think im aiming for enlightenment or emotional catharsis with this blog anymore. I'm going to adopt a more conventional and partisan routine in future, find a current issue and discuss the hell out of it. It's a shame the world is mostly a boring place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)