Bye bye baby

That job I held down for five months? Five whole months? It's gone. I've left, and never felt better. I've wiped the slate clean. I'm moving into a new home. Moving into a new life finally. Every year or so this happens. My expectations are far too high I know, yet it's nice to feel this way for a few minutes.. hours.. days.  Isn't it?

cherry cola 7.25

Got some needs yeah, I need to shake it

And I razamataz you honey, if you want me to

I can be your daddy, be your rock n' rolla'

You can be my sugar, be my cherry cola

Got some needs yeah, I need to skake it

End

Come home

How many times, for any reason have you wanted to say come home. Home is that place where everything is alright, where it always feels like Christmas. Home is the one place you feel wanted, grounded, unshakable. Like a womb made of bricks and board. Where all the furnishings have a story and a place.. The place you come back to at the end of the day. I don't have that place any more. But if I did, I'd tell you to come home.

Cutsie

Today I don't feel quite right. Yesterday was similar, as was the day before. I have my trinkets and toys surrounding me. My jewellery, porcelain and mirrors. I'm like the insecurity in the middle of the most secure beautiful things in the world. My little lamp makes everything look so much prettier, just that little glow that they need. My black hair, and white face must seem ghost like to these cutsie things.

Liquorice for veins and cherryade for blood

'If anything, it should have been a better thing. From underneath you staring at the ceiling, there’s another world of chocolate bars and baseball cards, that hides inside of all this tension that I’m feeling'

I'll never do that..

Remember when you made those rules, those lines you would not 'by any means' step over? Remember when you broke them? Well I've reached that point. Snobbery stops here.

I told myself I'd never work for 'the man' the 'fat cats' of the retail industry. I told myself I'd never be living at home again, and I told myself I wouldn't settle yet.

Having just gotten in from a 6.30am - 2pm work shift I felt inclined to rant.

Well, these things happened, and are now digging me deeper into a hole I can't see out of. Sure to many people these things aren't so bad, and hell, they're not. It's just something I said I'd never do.

The fact that I'm writing about it means I want change, and that change will happen. I'll be damned if I spend another year of my life telling people where the eggs are, or what the difference between a chicken leg and a chicken drumstick is. Read a god damn book, watch the discovery channel, and get off my case.

My artistic temperament is failing me. The most choice and rebellion I get at work is re-writing instructions and drawing faces on boxes of doughnuts.

End of rant.

Our quest..

For as long as we've been able to recognise happiness, we've wanted it. But what is it to be happy these days? Is it your party winning the election? Finding money down the side of your sofa? Being in good company?

To be trigger happy, is to be eager to point out the mistakes or shortcomings of others.

The search for happiness is like searching for a gun, searching to put your finger on the trigger, to give yourself complete control of the situation at hand.

Today my pistol was scrapped and made into a paperweight.

For me happiness is not having your finger on the trigger, it's knowing when to drop the gun.

Always going to be that wing span away

Today has not been too eventful, as most days these days.

I've been trying to think of my favourite place on earth, and it's a very difficult one!

In January I flew from Portland Maine to New York, I got off the plane and something just clicked and everything felt right. Although I had left behind a previous chapter of my life I felt quite content stood in the airport smoking area.

I think being on that plane. On my wing seat, with the table up, window in full view of New York city skyline. I think that is my favourite place.

Looking at something beautiful from somewhere restricted, I felt more free than ever.

I think in all my life I'll never find that 'favourite' place. The closest I got was to see what could have been. I find that with everywhere I've never really been, but seen.

What could have been if I had just taken my suitcase and gone? Who knows. One day I might find out.

The deceased..

Have you ever wondered why we put the deceased.. the gone off.. the out of date, corpses in the ground or scatter them on earth?

Perhaps it's so they can be at rest with the earth, the earth that gave them everything the needed in life.

In all honesty, being buried 6ft under soil and rocks, even when dead, would not be my idea of a picnic.

I think the way we like to keep all humans on earth is quite odd. It makes the ENTIRE world a grave yard. You cannot even walk out of your door without there being a body, a set of bones, underneath your feet, be it 10ft or 500. Imagine how many bodies are in the ground? How many more can we possibly fit in there!

But we have these 'attachment' things you see. We like to go to place, a bench, sometimes even the place where they died, to cry.. to weep. Which is entirely human. But in all honesty, that piece of ground you're praying to could be anyone.

Why not send these bodies off into space in capsules so they can orbit the earth, perhaps find other planets, other 'earth's.. Imagine that, we don't find other LIVING life until we're dead?

We can't see it, but we're circling it.

If only..

If I could tell what the my pity stricken face is saying right now, your glance would not be worthy. My Five thirty passes like a motionless train, yours in fact passes as a twelve thirty eloping divorce. Quick and not in the least bit subtle, thinking in ones own thoughts, imposing into possessions.

Perhaps you're at one with the crimson sofa, or the sterile walls which surround not the eyes, always the you's.

Hometowns shattered. You buildings there, you cross, you pressure stricken undignified children. Fall into this crack of these roots, this possessive mother. Claw your way from seam to seam, oh honey you've never looked so tragic.

This sickness plays again, like a classic you've heard a thousand times before ' Oh darling please believe me, I'll never do you no harm'. Today we
mix our 'o's and our 't's.. The 'l' always came too soon, the 't' not soon enough, oh, ay...

You are 'too late'.

I know I know I know I know I know nothing at all baby

Valium.. Valium.. Valium..

Even the word makes me feel like I have something very wrong with me for taking it.

It's been a month now since I was 'put on' this wonder drug, and yes, it's a wonder drug. It does things to the mind and body that could only be explained as beautifully fucked up.

Never before have I felt so safe while standing still alone in a field, never have I felt so upright when sat down, never before have I felt more loving, more appreciative of my own creations, others creations, creation in general.

Oh but boy am I hooked, and it scares me. It stops me from having these marvelous ideas of space and time, the universe and verse.

Valium is in the category of drugs that slow normal brain function. This is exactly what I think I needed. What a prayed for almost. That the racing thoughts, the overload of conciousness, the silence of juggernauts through steel would come to rest in the ground.

The beauty of the dark, is the beauty of no light.

AND SHE KNOWS

Mull this over, put it in your coffee, never so bitter this story of love and hate
A picture of eloquence, always the dainty girl, she always came to the line too late

The lover her heart possessed, tricked and tortured
Her vicious lure and over imaginative memory decide to take one last vow
That's all her heart can take, all it can see, even just for now.

Fullstops and blue lines

Your last arm has stretched to it's entirety
When looking close, the blue veins show
The pale white paper skin crinkles in force
Folded and unfolded into neat compressed feeling

Let me unfold you, let me hold your feather light grace
My breathing is harsh, but yours I cannot trace
If I had another way, I'd burn my best cards
What good what it do to shatter my winning game

This love of centimeters and inches cannot sustain
Briefly the sky doesn't seem so high, and you don't so far
I train my eye to follow your perfectly placed lines
To this my lungs have taken their last, eyes have seen their first

You are all in my imagination, but the realist thing I know.

5.40pm and i'm only getting older

It is absolutely impossible to transcend the laws of nature. What can change in historically different circumstances is only the form in which these laws expose themselves.

- Karl Marx

On one of my rantings, not such a rarity as of late, I came across a topic that interests me more than I can handle at times. It's seemingly vulgar and depressing, but a very very valid topic still.

Human nature. I have come to believe that as humans, we were all created, born into failure as a race. The human race is so complex, so utterly fascinating, yet simple to the ones who embrace it for what it is.

'Born into failure', what an odd thing to say? Well we were born with this fragile set of emotions, mostly seen as weakness in society. The most human of us die off before we reach a numbing age. As you see, the more animal we are, the greater we can achieve.

The human mind is too fragile to quite take in what we have created.

Humans are the ultimate predators. Even with simple technology, such as Spears or bows, we can overcome some of the toughest creatures on the planet. We were born with something different though, which makes us not weak, but born into suicide.

Following our human nature, will lead us to disaster. We are nothing but animals with a deadly insight.

It's sad to say, but we've evolved too far.

Valentines eve..

I treat Valentines day eve, as a polar opposite to Christmas eve.

No no.. Santa isn't coming to drop off nice presents. But everyone without a partner will feel utterly suicidal. Well, I guess when you're 5 and find out that Santa doesn't really.. properly.. REALLY.. exist.. in a round about way, you may feel similar to Val's eve.

Fuck it.

Don't bother whispering, I don't have a hangover.

No comment right now

Plane Crashes

I'll begin with this line; I've always been ridiculously paranoid about plane crashes.

Whenever I see a plane or a jet I always think they are going to crash. I'm positive that those flashing lights mean something, or they are flying too close to the ground, or that maybe that 45 degree angle they fly at is slowly decreasing and they are plummeting.

After recently flying alone a lot, turbulence scares the shit out of me. Every time that seatbelt sign comes on I automatically think, that's it, I'm a goner, how the hell am I supposed to survive this crash.

I'm not overly sure whether this paranoia about planes is completely natural, but even the scene in 'Donnie Darko' where the jet engine smashes into the house really gives me the creeps.

I always stay 100% awake on plane journeys, even the most recent 8 hour America flight. I ended up watching so much television I felt I was inside the screen. I also don't drink a lot of alcohol on flights, I like to stay alert, for completely the wrong reasons. If plummeting to the ground/sea being intoxicated may soften the blow and the oxygen mask that pops down would be funny, rather than menacingly scary!
No, I don't drink because up 36,000 feet it's like having triples, and everyone knows, a thimble of Babycham and I'm anybodys.



Yes, I did take this photo. Just before departing to Maine for the first time. I like to sit directly above the wing, if an engine dropped, HELL i'd know about it!

Oh but you can't do this in public

I now find myself in a public library, near to where my mum lives. Making some rather bad decisions, one for instance - listening to Chris Garneau (A real heart breaker that one) and the Amelie soundtrack. A beautiful mix of accordions, piano, violins. It takes me to a completely different place, and I find myself not only weeping from sheer love of the music in this desolate public library, but leaning back in my chair trying to find my balance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiJVSMFLZ6g&feature=PlayList&p=CAD013D213650AC4&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=3

A rather important piece of music to me. Music for the mind I call it, some music is mostly based on the body and jumping neurotic beats that fill your being with something close to ecstacy. But this, is something that entrances your mind.

Five minutes until the official log off for this community computer.

Farewell.

After deciding to take a jog at six this morning in the snow I come back feeling utterly drained and felt the whole experience was pointless.
Shall I just become a couch potato to stay warm and cozy? Aren't womb like feelings good? I say yes.

Not only have I been making odd decisions lately, I've also been drawing and painting little pieces of cheese, not in the dairy kind but in the cupcake sweet sugary yuck-yuck kind.



On another note, did Chris Tarrant - Who wants to be a millionaire really just ask the question 'Where is a Liverpudlian from?' for 5 grand?

Bad baby bad

Marriage is a commitment, it shouldn't be an excuse to make hasty bad decisions.
Eating a gone off sandwich is also a commitment and a bad decision.
My mind has leveled on a plateau!

Strictly speaking..

This blog is meant to be purely for those mid morning, not being able to sleep times, but I feel now is as good time as any other.

After recently being put on Lorazepam, some kind of sleeping pill, i'm finding it very difficult to even get up and be restless.

This is my picture of the day. Where exactly.. is that salad going?

5am wilting

1.Gherkins
2.Sock pets
3.Accordions
4.Propriety
5.Tea
6.Bowl cuts
7.Food shaped like a tin
8.Left wing
9.The debating team
10.Animals in people clothes

1. Gherkins
How I love gherkins, more commonly known in some countries as a pickle. Nothings quite as good as Christmas day, with that big old jar of pickled gherkins we used to get when I was a kid. F**k forks and spoons, I'm getting my hand in there. The biggest gherkin had my name written all over it's green bumpy delicious body.
My love of gherkins is quite no other. Most times, hand in jar, gherkin in sight, I do wonder if my love is more than platonic.



2. Sock pets
I'm not going to reel off a load of childhood shite about my sock pet friends. In actual fact, I would if I could. I never owned sock pets, by the 90s barbies, Pokémon cards and furbies were well into the 'acceptable affordable toy' category. As far as sticking your hand inside a sock with a face goes, they were left in the past. Poor bastards, love them though.

3. Accordions
I've always admired those who can play accordions. For several reasons. Not only (on the right person) does it look sexy. I also admire the perseverance of sitting alone in your room, with essentially a big old scrunched up rectangle of air, tinkling away at a million keys to the side, while giving the 'tortured artist' face.
If I could play at least one instrument I'd probably appreciate the musical value, but as I don't, it all sounds like the 'Amelie' soundtrack to me.

4. Propriety
Not only do I like the word and occasionally throw it around in 'dress up' conversation, it also makes me smile. It is exactly the opposite to most things I do. Not only will I not conform to established standards set, I also won't try by any means to be 'suitable'. Why be polite when you could have fun and be sarcastic?. How about we all dress up in period costumes and have a conversation about the weather shall we?

5. Tea
When travelling to different countries (from England), the subject of 'tea' will more than likely spring up. 'Oh yes yes, I drink tea at least 8 times a day, and visit the queen fortnightly'.. oh yes darlings believe what you want, for in fact I drink tea little than once a week, and see the queen on television like every man and his caravan.

About three years ago when I was 15 I found myself sat on a swivel chair, mother out of the house, and a kettle on 'the boil'. Cup after cup after cup, I was merely trying to quench my thirst and warm myself up. After 12 double bagged cups the whole 'thirst and warmth' issue was quite a thing of the past. Not only was I chattering away to myself about plastic boxes and dormice but I also found myself flamboyantly waving around one hand like I was drunk. Tea.. you rascal, why didn't you tell me what wonderful secrets you held!

6. Bowl cuts
'Why the fuck do you like bowl cuts' I hear you cry. I think there's something really charming about putting a bowl, or pot over your head and cutting round it to make a haircut. It's not fashionable, it's not stylish or attractive, but if I saw someone with a 'real' bowl cut I'd shake their hand with vigor. The Beatles did it justice, but did they keep it? No.. well I can tell you straight away, that the remaining two would still be together and still be making music if they kept the bowl cuts. End of.

Poor kids of the 90's.. who were made fun of for their curtains and bowl cuts, I salute you.

7. Food shaped like a tin
Although food shaped like a tin doesn't really appeal to many people, I find it perfectly acceptable. I think more foods should be shaped like other things. IE- Chocolate shaped like a bunny on Easter, Cranberry sauce in the shape of a tin etc.
Come on, it's a fact that cranberry sauce tastes better shaped like a tin. Don't even try to fight that one. The metallic taste gives it personality.

8. Left wing
Or.. left wing politics. We all loved Marx, that rogue. End of.

9. The debating team
Whenever I hear that phrase I think, over sized pastel coloured sweaters and glasses that take up half your face. Much like the math team, or the chess team. Anything with the word 'team' after it really does beckon the pastel glasses. Although there's always at least one male or female with either very strong values or is just ridiculously feminist. Either way, they're too good looking to be there.
Love it.

10. Animals in clothes
Isn't it just the cutest thing to see a penguin in a turtle neck sweater, or a chicken in a tuxedo. To me, it's one of the most quaint, cruel and mildly entertaining things around. I don't agree with dressing animals up, but when they're stuffed, HOLY HELL, HAVE A PICNIC!

Countdown

The more I try to be artistic the more I want to lie in bed and watch 'Everybody loves Raymond'. Yeah, possibly the most unartistic thing I could do.
But when I do get round to doodling.. I draw cliched little pictures like this.

Miss Van and the picture that looks like little old me

I came across this artist while listening to Chris Garneau on youtube yesterday, the video was a collection of pictures by 'Miss Van'.

It looks a lot like me, artwork that looks like me often keeps my attention better than others. Strange.. very strange :)

New..new..new

I've decided to finally do something I've been planning on doing for a while. Making a blog. I still do think.. why take so much time over sometime that isn't material and you can't file in a cabinet, well, thats the beauty of it I guess!

I live in the night, not that I go out and socialize so much, more so that I sleep in the day time and use the night to write and draw.

This blog will be a mix of paintings, drawings, interesting and inspiring images, and of course writing. Hopefully I can keep someone other than myself interested one day.