...you could feel the sweat running down your neck, your muscles burning from too much? Your jaw hurts from smiling and shouting, your head is banging from excess noise and heat and everyone around you is laughing because you appear to have no control over you limbs? Or, if you're just going it alone in your room, the headphones come off and there's a feeling of emptiness because there was no-one there to share that with you? No?
Why not?
I'm pretty much certain that there is nothing on earth which causes that much bliss. There are drugs, and drink, which are hilarious but short lived and, ultimately, a bit bad for your tummy. There's the bed-style fun, but that requires so much legwork beforehand... You can climb mountains, but you need to be in shape to avoid risks. You can run marathons, but the same things apply, generally. Painting? Requires the right frame of mind. Singing? Concentration. There are basically rules for them all - Steps to take before the good bit hits you and you grin like a moron.
How's this then? Turn on, turn up, dance. That, my loves, is the kind of way to spend an evening. Dancing doesn't have rules! Not unless you enforce them. I'm sitting here, panting for breath, because I have been throwing myself around my room, alone, with The Go! Team blasting away in my cans, and I cannot begin to describe how much better this is than going downstairs to play N64 or sitting and trying to force myself to read a book. Nope, this is instant buzz.
I hate when people make dancing a tool - Some sort of primal ritual used to lure the opposite sex into their grasp, only ever with one ultimate, self-centred goal. It's dancing, for crying out loud - "To move one's feet, body or both to the accompaniment of music". How the hell did this get undermined too? It's just expression, freedom to move the bodies we've got.
We need to do it while we can, folks! Were all going to get old, and we're going to complain that our frames aren't what they used to be and we will look back at how lucky we were, and when that happens, I want to be able to smile and know that I had a good time with it. I don't want my only experiences of dancing to be with 18 drinks in me on some gum-covered nightclub floor and a half naked girl weaving around in front of me - Where's the fun in that? I want to remember me and my mates just moving; no inhibitions.
When I think of dancing, I think of me and Henry Croft starting the night of a Sixth Form social as the only ones in front of the DJ, hopelessly shaking around to "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley and laughing our arses off because it was so damned ridiculous that we were the only ones willing to have any fun. I think of My 18th birthday in my back garden, raving to Pendulum with Chazzeh, just us, grinning and alive. I think of Me and Becky, watching the Go! Team live, making friends with complete strangers and losing ourselves in the strobelights and t-shirts, just dancing because it felt right.
Folks, dance with me. Stop working now, it's too late. Put on some headphones, play whatever you like, and have a go, because you don't need anything else to feel brilliant.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Many things.
Song of the Moment: "Keys to the City" by The Go! Team
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
It has just become very obvious...
...that I'm probably going to disappear off the radar in a few years.
I have great friendships with a lot of you folks out there, most of whom will never read this and remain blissfully unaware of this revelation. I treasure silly passing remarks, odd grins from across the street and conversations which have lasted deep into the small hours of many dreary mornings this country has had to offer in the past.
It's all stopping though, of course.
I'm rubbish at keep up to speed with any of you in any way. I rarely show my face for big evenings out on the town; I am drawn to a different lifestyle, I fear - a lifestyle which aspires to peaceful villages where residents spend their days wandering about playing instruments and smiling and drinking tea and feeling perfectly happy with the state of things.
What's more, my inevitable career path leads me far away from the big cities and noise many of you enjoy so much. I'll end up in a cottage somewhere in the country, drawing the occasional thing for some newly developed shop that requires it, then strolling off to work at a post office until the day is through. It will be time spent alone, too, by the looks of things.
I have tried, mark you - I have twisted myself to fit into many frames and stories, but in actuality, it is never genuine; my presence is not intrinsic to the memory, simply moderately interesting excess used as kindling for another anecdote around the cheese and biscuits.
Yes, I will disappear. Many of you will forget me, some of you may have a flicker of interest in where I've gone, I might even be lucky enough to hear that one or two of you experienced genuine sadness with the passing of time. However, all in all, I will still fade away. I have loved many of you, but I can't keep pretending this lifestyle is my own.
These are, of course, simply words, and they will be passed over by tired eyes, and silently disregarded by busy minds. They'll probably be void by tomorrow anyway.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's Autobiography.
Song of the Moment: "Samson" by Regina Spektor
I have great friendships with a lot of you folks out there, most of whom will never read this and remain blissfully unaware of this revelation. I treasure silly passing remarks, odd grins from across the street and conversations which have lasted deep into the small hours of many dreary mornings this country has had to offer in the past.
It's all stopping though, of course.
I'm rubbish at keep up to speed with any of you in any way. I rarely show my face for big evenings out on the town; I am drawn to a different lifestyle, I fear - a lifestyle which aspires to peaceful villages where residents spend their days wandering about playing instruments and smiling and drinking tea and feeling perfectly happy with the state of things.
What's more, my inevitable career path leads me far away from the big cities and noise many of you enjoy so much. I'll end up in a cottage somewhere in the country, drawing the occasional thing for some newly developed shop that requires it, then strolling off to work at a post office until the day is through. It will be time spent alone, too, by the looks of things.
I have tried, mark you - I have twisted myself to fit into many frames and stories, but in actuality, it is never genuine; my presence is not intrinsic to the memory, simply moderately interesting excess used as kindling for another anecdote around the cheese and biscuits.
Yes, I will disappear. Many of you will forget me, some of you may have a flicker of interest in where I've gone, I might even be lucky enough to hear that one or two of you experienced genuine sadness with the passing of time. However, all in all, I will still fade away. I have loved many of you, but I can't keep pretending this lifestyle is my own.
These are, of course, simply words, and they will be passed over by tired eyes, and silently disregarded by busy minds. They'll probably be void by tomorrow anyway.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's Autobiography.
Song of the Moment: "Samson" by Regina Spektor
Friday, 2 May 2008
Whiskey and Coke tonight...
...and some seriously loud music in my headphones. I actually detest living in this house.
I can deal with the conflicts between myself and those around me. I can deal with how small this place is. I can just about deal with the severe lack of anything remotely resembling a garden. All that will stand with me as long as it needs to. What get me are the residents of Fratton.
My neighbours, for example, have several, very loud dogs. I hate dogs as it is, but these foul creatures will wail and howl at any human or movement within a 1 mile proximity of their house, and they will keep going until either the termagant of a mother screams at them like a banshee or they receive the necessary blood sacrifice from whatever poor, unfortunate soul happens to be anywhere near them at that precise moment.
The family are loud, associate with other loud people and make no bones about it - They bitch and whine at each other until the sun sets, by which time they have all presumably returned to their respective bomb shelters and injected more adrenaline into their veins so that, when the morning creeps round, they have absolutely no problem leaping from the sheets to fire off more expletives at one and other, an event which is louder even than the disgracefully bad choice of music shamelessly blasted through the speakers of the stereo of the teenage daughter on the other side of my wall.
I don't know, perhaps i'm having a bad evening? Well, i most certainly am having a bad evening, lets not beat about the bush... perhaps i'm over exaggerating? Maybe they're all just tormented philosophers, desperately trying to seek new plains of understanding by battling out every day over questions above and beyond my own thought process...
No. That simply doesn't work. Nietzsche never bellowed "Gimme your eye-liner or I'll smash your face in" from the pages of Thus Spake Zaratrustra...
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's autobiography - See yesterday's entry.
Song of the Moment: "Butterfly Caught" by Massive Attack
I can deal with the conflicts between myself and those around me. I can deal with how small this place is. I can just about deal with the severe lack of anything remotely resembling a garden. All that will stand with me as long as it needs to. What get me are the residents of Fratton.
My neighbours, for example, have several, very loud dogs. I hate dogs as it is, but these foul creatures will wail and howl at any human or movement within a 1 mile proximity of their house, and they will keep going until either the termagant of a mother screams at them like a banshee or they receive the necessary blood sacrifice from whatever poor, unfortunate soul happens to be anywhere near them at that precise moment.
The family are loud, associate with other loud people and make no bones about it - They bitch and whine at each other until the sun sets, by which time they have all presumably returned to their respective bomb shelters and injected more adrenaline into their veins so that, when the morning creeps round, they have absolutely no problem leaping from the sheets to fire off more expletives at one and other, an event which is louder even than the disgracefully bad choice of music shamelessly blasted through the speakers of the stereo of the teenage daughter on the other side of my wall.
I don't know, perhaps i'm having a bad evening? Well, i most certainly am having a bad evening, lets not beat about the bush... perhaps i'm over exaggerating? Maybe they're all just tormented philosophers, desperately trying to seek new plains of understanding by battling out every day over questions above and beyond my own thought process...
No. That simply doesn't work. Nietzsche never bellowed "Gimme your eye-liner or I'll smash your face in" from the pages of Thus Spake Zaratrustra...
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Still Stephen Fry's autobiography - See yesterday's entry.
Song of the Moment: "Butterfly Caught" by Massive Attack
Thursday, 1 May 2008
I can see the finish line...
...and now I can dance the last few hundred metres too!
I finally got a new iPod, and this time it's a classic, so it'll last, plus it has basically everything I own on it - Groovy.
Anyway, to matters at hand - I finish semester in near enough 2 weeks, and the pressure is seriously on. I have to make a book, the frame of which will hopefully be entirely twisted, as a reflection of the notions of tormenting, manipulation and nagging referred to in my chosen novel, "An Essay on the Art of Tormenting" by Jane Collier.
I have to a whole butt-load of preparation for it tomorrow - In fact, I basically need to absolutely decide on what it's going to look like and how it will be built, because it needs to look really good, and if I haven't started to build by Monday, it'll be rushed. Research, as always, is boring as stripping wallpaper and ultimately not as helpful. If I don't do enough, though, then my final solution has to be utterly perfect, because its a 50/50 marking scheme. I'm sure it'll pan out OK.
Well, not sure, but you get the idea.
I'm ready for term to be over.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "Moab is My Washpot" by Stephen Fry
Song of the Moment: "Creepy Crawl" by Be Your Own Pet
I finally got a new iPod, and this time it's a classic, so it'll last, plus it has basically everything I own on it - Groovy.
Anyway, to matters at hand - I finish semester in near enough 2 weeks, and the pressure is seriously on. I have to make a book, the frame of which will hopefully be entirely twisted, as a reflection of the notions of tormenting, manipulation and nagging referred to in my chosen novel, "An Essay on the Art of Tormenting" by Jane Collier.
I have to a whole butt-load of preparation for it tomorrow - In fact, I basically need to absolutely decide on what it's going to look like and how it will be built, because it needs to look really good, and if I haven't started to build by Monday, it'll be rushed. Research, as always, is boring as stripping wallpaper and ultimately not as helpful. If I don't do enough, though, then my final solution has to be utterly perfect, because its a 50/50 marking scheme. I'm sure it'll pan out OK.
Well, not sure, but you get the idea.
I'm ready for term to be over.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "Moab is My Washpot" by Stephen Fry
Song of the Moment: "Creepy Crawl" by Be Your Own Pet
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Behind you is a long and winding canyon...
... which I have only just crawled out of. I apologise to the one or two people who have had one less web-page to waste their time reading.
As it happens, my reasons for being out of action are not in any way sinister or distressing - On the contrary, I have been occupied with matters of great interest and worth.
And suddenly, I have lost all inspiration to write any more.
Apologies again. I shall try harder tomorrow perhaps?
'tonm. xx
As it happens, my reasons for being out of action are not in any way sinister or distressing - On the contrary, I have been occupied with matters of great interest and worth.
And suddenly, I have lost all inspiration to write any more.
Apologies again. I shall try harder tomorrow perhaps?
'tonm. xx
Sunday, 2 March 2008
Creative Block...
...and this time it's heavy.
I get this pretty much annually, around this quiet time of the year. It takes a massive toll on everything I try to do, for pleasure or out of necessity. I can spend days doing absolutely nothing and still feel nothing click. I can sit with all my tools round me and get no flicker of an idea. I even try going minimalist, locking myself in a room with nothing but a biro and a notebook. Still no lyrics, no images, no development of work, no plans, no communication - The wall.
Basically I'm in this place and I can't do anything to shift the car onward. My acoustic guitar strings are broke, I'm not enjoying my current Uni project, I have commissions I keep forgetting about and, at the end of all things, I just don't care about anything but the creative and communicative, both of which are on hold.
I'm jamming with a mate on Tuesday - Maybe that'll spark me back up. Until then, it's blues all the way.
'tonm. xx
(Can't be bothered with this stuff today.)
I get this pretty much annually, around this quiet time of the year. It takes a massive toll on everything I try to do, for pleasure or out of necessity. I can spend days doing absolutely nothing and still feel nothing click. I can sit with all my tools round me and get no flicker of an idea. I even try going minimalist, locking myself in a room with nothing but a biro and a notebook. Still no lyrics, no images, no development of work, no plans, no communication - The wall.
Basically I'm in this place and I can't do anything to shift the car onward. My acoustic guitar strings are broke, I'm not enjoying my current Uni project, I have commissions I keep forgetting about and, at the end of all things, I just don't care about anything but the creative and communicative, both of which are on hold.
I'm jamming with a mate on Tuesday - Maybe that'll spark me back up. Until then, it's blues all the way.
'tonm. xx
(Can't be bothered with this stuff today.)
Monday, 25 February 2008
There's potential! There really is...
...I've seen it!
So it's Sunday. I'm unbearably tired, I'm a little bit down and I have to get on a train.
Thing is, I'm going somewhere good... Southampton to see my sister, Becky, as it happens. This isn't just your regular hang-out though; we're only going to see The Go! Team play at the Student Union, aren't we?
IT WAS INSANE.
Support acts existed, but they passed with no notable features to them; I suppose the huge, layered screaming chaos of the Micra Girls has been logged away in the back of my head somewhere, but I think everybody in the room was there with the same direction in mind - To grin and dance.
So, at half-past something, the lights disappear and the band bounce out onto the stage, fully aware that they are about to blow our balls off, and tear open the set with "The Power Is On". After that, it's just a blur of noise, smiling and more dancing than I have seen happen in any one place in England in my entire life.
The key thing is this - Everyone's dancing because they want to dance. They're not all responding to alcohol or drugs and they're not trying to grind against a potential one night stand, they're just bloody goin' at it, takin' that sound and throwin' 'emselves all about the floor, loving every moment. There we're nutters on both sides of me, all of us screaming and singing and gettin' down.
THAT is what a gig should be. Not a fashion show, not a period of time in which to cry and feel bummed out, but a section of life that is tattooed into your memories forever as containing nothing but absolute joy and smiles.
Best gig I've ever been to, and I was watching Led Zeppelin about 2.5 months ago.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Eric Clapton: The Auto-biography, p149
Song of the Moment: "The Wrath of Marcie" by The Go! Team
So it's Sunday. I'm unbearably tired, I'm a little bit down and I have to get on a train.
Thing is, I'm going somewhere good... Southampton to see my sister, Becky, as it happens. This isn't just your regular hang-out though; we're only going to see The Go! Team play at the Student Union, aren't we?
IT WAS INSANE.
Support acts existed, but they passed with no notable features to them; I suppose the huge, layered screaming chaos of the Micra Girls has been logged away in the back of my head somewhere, but I think everybody in the room was there with the same direction in mind - To grin and dance.
So, at half-past something, the lights disappear and the band bounce out onto the stage, fully aware that they are about to blow our balls off, and tear open the set with "The Power Is On". After that, it's just a blur of noise, smiling and more dancing than I have seen happen in any one place in England in my entire life.
The key thing is this - Everyone's dancing because they want to dance. They're not all responding to alcohol or drugs and they're not trying to grind against a potential one night stand, they're just bloody goin' at it, takin' that sound and throwin' 'emselves all about the floor, loving every moment. There we're nutters on both sides of me, all of us screaming and singing and gettin' down.
THAT is what a gig should be. Not a fashion show, not a period of time in which to cry and feel bummed out, but a section of life that is tattooed into your memories forever as containing nothing but absolute joy and smiles.
Best gig I've ever been to, and I was watching Led Zeppelin about 2.5 months ago.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Eric Clapton: The Auto-biography, p149
Song of the Moment: "The Wrath of Marcie" by The Go! Team
Monday, 18 February 2008
Everything...
...is flying around above my head, and some of it is out to get me irritated while the rest are making me smile.
I think there's change coming. A lot of change. Summer is going to be a significant period of time for me and my family, probably for the world! I just get that feeling... I guess it's because last year was so unfeasibly BAD that this year has some work to do to make up for its terrible performance.
I don't know. At the moment, stuff is still utter crud, but here and there coffee tastes better and I feel full of energy and the sun seems to be getting ready for a good long haul in a few months time. There's an air of potential. I suppose it's just a matter of seeing what comes of it all?
In other news, I'm listening to Radio 1 for the first time in ages, and I'm really bummed that music's got to this place. I mean, I can see why it matches our culture and all; I suppose that's my biggest problem. I'm so out of sync that the only artists that appeal to me are out of the loop too. Right now I'm being put through some Simian Mobile Disco and it's lost all of its flavour. 3 years ago they were revolutionary, but now everybody seems to be singing from the same hymn book, you know? I guess the next change will drag us away from all this. Hopefully. Beirut... give them the time of day - They're at least heading in the right direction. Jeremy Warmsley! Come on! We have real geniuses like him underneath all the flashing lights and drum machines.
Just... no-one ask me out to rave. Or go to a student pub. Or go anywhere with a radio. Ah well.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Eric Clapton - The Autobiography, p.111
Song of the Moment: "Sunrise" by Norah Jones
I think there's change coming. A lot of change. Summer is going to be a significant period of time for me and my family, probably for the world! I just get that feeling... I guess it's because last year was so unfeasibly BAD that this year has some work to do to make up for its terrible performance.
I don't know. At the moment, stuff is still utter crud, but here and there coffee tastes better and I feel full of energy and the sun seems to be getting ready for a good long haul in a few months time. There's an air of potential. I suppose it's just a matter of seeing what comes of it all?
In other news, I'm listening to Radio 1 for the first time in ages, and I'm really bummed that music's got to this place. I mean, I can see why it matches our culture and all; I suppose that's my biggest problem. I'm so out of sync that the only artists that appeal to me are out of the loop too. Right now I'm being put through some Simian Mobile Disco and it's lost all of its flavour. 3 years ago they were revolutionary, but now everybody seems to be singing from the same hymn book, you know? I guess the next change will drag us away from all this. Hopefully. Beirut... give them the time of day - They're at least heading in the right direction. Jeremy Warmsley! Come on! We have real geniuses like him underneath all the flashing lights and drum machines.
Just... no-one ask me out to rave. Or go to a student pub. Or go anywhere with a radio. Ah well.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Eric Clapton - The Autobiography, p.111
Song of the Moment: "Sunrise" by Norah Jones
Sunday, 10 February 2008
I am fully aware, now, of how selfish i've been...
...and I'm desperately sorry.
I spend a lot of time talking to those around me about how I need to find the person who's head is in the same place as mine; When I go off on strange tangents and rants, I always feel as though there's just a general detachment from everyone around me, like those who're listening are smiling sweetly to humour me, secretly disregarding everything I say.
The fact of the matter is, my mad quest to find that mysterious person who will come with me on those journeys into "new plains of perception and thought" is causing rifts between me and all the friends I actually have right now.
Who cares if the people I know and love aren't similar to me in that respect? They're still marvellous, interesting people worth spending time knowing and talking to, and I need to get it into my thick head that anything that's meant to happen will, so for now I should appreciate what it is that I have for certain.
I apologise, therefore, to anyone I've ever burdened with crazed ideas of new, 'more desirable' friendships and wish to reassure you that your friendship is everything to me - the connections I share now are the ones keeping me smiling.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "Eric Clapton: The Autobiography" by Eric Clapton, p.37
Song of the Moment: "Life's a Long Song" by Jethro Tull
I spend a lot of time talking to those around me about how I need to find the person who's head is in the same place as mine; When I go off on strange tangents and rants, I always feel as though there's just a general detachment from everyone around me, like those who're listening are smiling sweetly to humour me, secretly disregarding everything I say.
The fact of the matter is, my mad quest to find that mysterious person who will come with me on those journeys into "new plains of perception and thought" is causing rifts between me and all the friends I actually have right now.
Who cares if the people I know and love aren't similar to me in that respect? They're still marvellous, interesting people worth spending time knowing and talking to, and I need to get it into my thick head that anything that's meant to happen will, so for now I should appreciate what it is that I have for certain.
I apologise, therefore, to anyone I've ever burdened with crazed ideas of new, 'more desirable' friendships and wish to reassure you that your friendship is everything to me - the connections I share now are the ones keeping me smiling.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "Eric Clapton: The Autobiography" by Eric Clapton, p.37
Song of the Moment: "Life's a Long Song" by Jethro Tull
Monday, 4 February 2008
The deep breath inwards...
... keeps me grinning, even after 4 hours of sleep and all the shrouds of darkness and sadness and idiocy all around everything. I know that there is potential in everything an everyone, and it makes me smile like a fool.
That's not to say it kills all of he problems - they sit there, stubborn, moving for no-one, and we have to tiptoe around them and clamber over the tops of their massive frames. Somewhere though, amongst all this, there is a feeling of positivity - An aura of inexorable change up ahead. Emanating from deep within the canyons under the problems is the next step, slowly creeping out, ready to shake this situation to pieces and set my family on a new course.
I just need God to keep my Mum upright. All of us are suffering, but her most. She sees some days through permanent darkness, never stopping to relax, always working to keep on top of all of the responsibilities and fears she's now lumped with. She's so string, but she certainly doest feel it. She's battered but not beaten, and I need her to feel encouraged until the change comes.
The loneliness is the worst part, easily. It kills us all. I'm one to suffer it quite badly, but I inherited that want for contact with people from Mum. She aspires only to share life with those around her, and now the nights are impossible.
I love her, and I want to be there for her all the time, but it isn't the same.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Anything with beauty in its words, I suppose.
Song of the Moment: "Blind" by Reana
That's not to say it kills all of he problems - they sit there, stubborn, moving for no-one, and we have to tiptoe around them and clamber over the tops of their massive frames. Somewhere though, amongst all this, there is a feeling of positivity - An aura of inexorable change up ahead. Emanating from deep within the canyons under the problems is the next step, slowly creeping out, ready to shake this situation to pieces and set my family on a new course.
I just need God to keep my Mum upright. All of us are suffering, but her most. She sees some days through permanent darkness, never stopping to relax, always working to keep on top of all of the responsibilities and fears she's now lumped with. She's so string, but she certainly doest feel it. She's battered but not beaten, and I need her to feel encouraged until the change comes.
The loneliness is the worst part, easily. It kills us all. I'm one to suffer it quite badly, but I inherited that want for contact with people from Mum. She aspires only to share life with those around her, and now the nights are impossible.
I love her, and I want to be there for her all the time, but it isn't the same.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: Anything with beauty in its words, I suppose.
Song of the Moment: "Blind" by Reana
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Leaving the window open tonight.
I need to feel the cold air on my face and in the room when I struggle out in the morning.
I don't quite know where I'm right now - I haven't recorded as much as I should've or could've within these free days of mine, but, conversely, I've been quite good with regards to illustrations and artistic tasks of that nature.
I really wish I was in the mood to type - I could knock out a book with the amount of mania flashing about in my skull. Pants, poop and poppy cock. (Sorry to the Dutch-men who are offended by the translation of that last one.)
'tonm
xx
No bits here tonight.
I don't quite know where I'm right now - I haven't recorded as much as I should've or could've within these free days of mine, but, conversely, I've been quite good with regards to illustrations and artistic tasks of that nature.
I really wish I was in the mood to type - I could knock out a book with the amount of mania flashing about in my skull. Pants, poop and poppy cock. (Sorry to the Dutch-men who are offended by the translation of that last one.)
'tonm
xx
No bits here tonight.
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Planning some spontaneous travel.
Try and get your head around that concept then!
Well, here I am, with the first week ahead of me, and I'm looking at a number of potential things; Amongst all of the art I'm doing for people and myself, all of the recording of music and the drinking of coffee, I want to go and see some folks. Trains, all the way, everywhere. I love 'em. They're my key to all this - that said, I only have two certain destinations - Canterbury and Home. Thus far, there's nowhere else which cries out to me - Everyone has exams and suchlike, so finding people to visit is proving something of a labour.
It's odd - Despite the fact that I have basically no responsibilities for the next 3 weeks, I feel a strange pressure on my shoulders. Maybe I've built up too much of an idea of how I'm supposed to spend this time in my confused old noggin. It wouldn't surprise me - I'm entirely capable of thinking too much about nothing.
I just wish it'd leave - I want to feel different, I want to break they rhythm, and that simply can't happen if I'm captured by time and thought and process and systematic response. I want to be able to tell someone I'm coming to see the a day before I do, then to get on a train early, spend a day in good company and head back to places I know with a new experience under my belt.
I think what I'm trying to do is eradicate fear - there isn't much in me, but there's enough still that can crush me if it gets a chance. I know that if something were to go against my "spontaneous planning" that, at this point, I'd probably freak out a little. I mean, I know from past experiences that I've been able to handle that kind of madness before. It's there though, that little bit of worry that I so desperately wish would sod off to the tiny, dank cave it lives in, far away in the winding valleys and vistas of my head.
I'll keep you up to speed on what happens, if anything. Those of you who know me will be able to see if anything's different. Those who don't, then we obviously haven't spoken enough - I demand you email me at once.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac, p119.
Song of the Moment: "So Easy" by Becky Jules
Well, here I am, with the first week ahead of me, and I'm looking at a number of potential things; Amongst all of the art I'm doing for people and myself, all of the recording of music and the drinking of coffee, I want to go and see some folks. Trains, all the way, everywhere. I love 'em. They're my key to all this - that said, I only have two certain destinations - Canterbury and Home. Thus far, there's nowhere else which cries out to me - Everyone has exams and suchlike, so finding people to visit is proving something of a labour.
It's odd - Despite the fact that I have basically no responsibilities for the next 3 weeks, I feel a strange pressure on my shoulders. Maybe I've built up too much of an idea of how I'm supposed to spend this time in my confused old noggin. It wouldn't surprise me - I'm entirely capable of thinking too much about nothing.
I just wish it'd leave - I want to feel different, I want to break they rhythm, and that simply can't happen if I'm captured by time and thought and process and systematic response. I want to be able to tell someone I'm coming to see the a day before I do, then to get on a train early, spend a day in good company and head back to places I know with a new experience under my belt.
I think what I'm trying to do is eradicate fear - there isn't much in me, but there's enough still that can crush me if it gets a chance. I know that if something were to go against my "spontaneous planning" that, at this point, I'd probably freak out a little. I mean, I know from past experiences that I've been able to handle that kind of madness before. It's there though, that little bit of worry that I so desperately wish would sod off to the tiny, dank cave it lives in, far away in the winding valleys and vistas of my head.
I'll keep you up to speed on what happens, if anything. Those of you who know me will be able to see if anything's different. Those who don't, then we obviously haven't spoken enough - I demand you email me at once.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac, p119.
Song of the Moment: "So Easy" by Becky Jules
Friday, 18 January 2008
Apologies for the break in the line...
... but if I had written anything in the last week, it would only have been contrived drivel; the residue of a long-gone mind.
Deadlines being as they are, I have become an unhealthy wreck over the past 7 days, relying on peanuts and coffee to drag me through the hours with annotations and printing ink surrounding me on every side. I've been petulant and reclusive and it's been horrible. Here I am though, on the other side, looking at the 3 weeks ahead of me and all their potential, grinning like a buffoon and listening to The Guess Who. Oh yes.
Psychedelic. Hmm... there's a notion. Let's go back there :D
Here come the grins. I'll be back with some good writing soon.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. PART TWO p105
Song of the Moment: "Oil and Water" by Incubus.
Deadlines being as they are, I have become an unhealthy wreck over the past 7 days, relying on peanuts and coffee to drag me through the hours with annotations and printing ink surrounding me on every side. I've been petulant and reclusive and it's been horrible. Here I am though, on the other side, looking at the 3 weeks ahead of me and all their potential, grinning like a buffoon and listening to The Guess Who. Oh yes.
Psychedelic. Hmm... there's a notion. Let's go back there :D
Here come the grins. I'll be back with some good writing soon.
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. PART TWO p105
Song of the Moment: "Oil and Water" by Incubus.
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Point A to B is dull and lifeless.
"It's about not being oppressed by time, not being oppressed by the idea of the journey; that life begins here and ends over here.
So you grant yourself a little bit of freedom in the moment. You allow yourself the privilege of spontaneity.
~
If you aren't governed by fear, you can live truthfully and you can find a kind of beauty. But if you're inhibited and fearful, you will live a prescriptive existence. But, like, once you get beyond the hedonistic first impulse of that philosophy, you find that you need to focus on something wider, more permanent and beautiful and valuable.
~
That's what I've learned, and I kind of think 'I want to do something worthwhile.'"
-Russell Brand on his Jack Kerouac journey experiences.
So you grant yourself a little bit of freedom in the moment. You allow yourself the privilege of spontaneity.
~
If you aren't governed by fear, you can live truthfully and you can find a kind of beauty. But if you're inhibited and fearful, you will live a prescriptive existence. But, like, once you get beyond the hedonistic first impulse of that philosophy, you find that you need to focus on something wider, more permanent and beautiful and valuable.
~
That's what I've learned, and I kind of think 'I want to do something worthwhile.'"
-Russell Brand on his Jack Kerouac journey experiences.
It's been said before, let's not be kip around the facts here. People, forever, have been on journeys to find themselves and come out saying similar things. But there is something unique about this particular example which I can't quite pinpoint. I don't know whether it is because Brand, a man of total hedonism and debauchery appears to be having something of a spiritual experience that is genuine. It's entirely reasonable to think that is the cause.
I just can't be sure - I've spent all day writing an essay and, in hindsight, that is prescribing to the rules of an a-t-b day. I have worried about finishing it on tie and achieving it within the bounds of the other event of the day, but that's madness. I could have left it and finished it at 6 in the morning if I wanted. Or, better still, 4am, when silence reigns and I could be alone with it. Regardless, it's utter arse-gravy as an essay and I shan't be receiving a good mark for it. Still, it's been something of an enemy to be.
I really want to be able to look at a day as just a space of time, not a strict, chronologically-linear sequence. But work always ruins that for me, because I panic about it. "Deadline" - There's a terrifying term. It grabs my attention and ties it to the desk, threatening it with a gun to the back of the head should it move.
I need to remember that I could die at any point. I could fail anything. I could watch all my circumstances change in front of me, and then the sketchbooks and essays and forms would all be void. Irrelevant in a flash. I know they are important to a point, but I've got to stop letting them conquer my lifestyle, because I become miserable company when they do.
'tonm.
xx
Book of the Moment: "The Stars' Tennis Balls" by Stephen Fry, page 210
Song of the Moment: "Helter Skelter" by The Beatles
I just can't be sure - I've spent all day writing an essay and, in hindsight, that is prescribing to the rules of an a-t-b day. I have worried about finishing it on tie and achieving it within the bounds of the other event of the day, but that's madness. I could have left it and finished it at 6 in the morning if I wanted. Or, better still, 4am, when silence reigns and I could be alone with it. Regardless, it's utter arse-gravy as an essay and I shan't be receiving a good mark for it. Still, it's been something of an enemy to be.
I really want to be able to look at a day as just a space of time, not a strict, chronologically-linear sequence. But work always ruins that for me, because I panic about it. "Deadline" - There's a terrifying term. It grabs my attention and ties it to the desk, threatening it with a gun to the back of the head should it move.
I need to remember that I could die at any point. I could fail anything. I could watch all my circumstances change in front of me, and then the sketchbooks and essays and forms would all be void. Irrelevant in a flash. I know they are important to a point, but I've got to stop letting them conquer my lifestyle, because I become miserable company when they do.
'tonm.
xx
Book of the Moment: "The Stars' Tennis Balls" by Stephen Fry, page 210
Song of the Moment: "Helter Skelter" by The Beatles
Saturday, 5 January 2008
Sighh...
es·say 
[n. es-ey for 1, 2; es-ey, e-sey for 3–5; v. e-sey] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun
I want to achieve well at uni, I really do. I see myself, ten years from now, in a new situation with new perspectives and possibly more facial hair, looking back at my time at university and thinking about what a great idea it was to work hard and how much I've benefited from those three years of effort.
The fact is, right now I have an essay to complete about Global Media which in no way excites me, interests me or stirs up even the slightest sympathy with a single media expert anywhere around the globe within me. I am trying to concentrate, but all I can think about is the other project I have which is worth more credits and which I am currently failing spectacularly. I keep thinking of interesting new lyrics instead of researching quotes and references (inevitably because I am having to sit through another one of my brothers' band rehearsals, which makes me both jealous and annoyed at contemporary music). What's more, I'm just so inexplicably irritated all the time at the moment that I can't socialise, I can't relax, I can't compose; I'm turning into this miserable tosser with no prospects and acute deafness in one ear.
What's the point in this bit? I know I went to university to work, to push myself further, but it seems to be affecting me as a person more than my academic mind - Essays and research files are things which will never apply to my lifestyle ever at all ever never ever again never. I enjoy writing, but not when the topic is a mind melting series of dull questions designed specifically to drain all the happiness from the air around you.
You just wait - I'll get into the swing of the question at about 8pm, write furiously but then find that I have a billion things to pack because I'm leaving for Portsmouth tomorrow. So, I'll be miserable, then realise I've not started my other project either and take it out on those around me. I really hate it, knowing that this is the next inevitable stage, but here I am, sure of it and I can't do a bloody thing.
Any ideas?
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "The Stars Tennis Balls" by Stephen Fry
Song of the Moment: "Stepping Back" by Ben Mi Duck
[n. es-ey for 1, 2; es-ey, e-sey for 3–5; v. e-sey] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun | 1. | a short literary composition on a particular theme or subject, usually in prose and generally analytic, speculative, or interpretative. |
| 2. | anything resembling such a composition: a picture essay. |
| 3. | an effort to perform or accomplish something; attempt. |
| 4. | Philately. a design for a proposed stamp differing in any way from the design of the stamp as issued. |
| 5. | Obsolete. a tentative effort; trial; assay |
I want to achieve well at uni, I really do. I see myself, ten years from now, in a new situation with new perspectives and possibly more facial hair, looking back at my time at university and thinking about what a great idea it was to work hard and how much I've benefited from those three years of effort.
The fact is, right now I have an essay to complete about Global Media which in no way excites me, interests me or stirs up even the slightest sympathy with a single media expert anywhere around the globe within me. I am trying to concentrate, but all I can think about is the other project I have which is worth more credits and which I am currently failing spectacularly. I keep thinking of interesting new lyrics instead of researching quotes and references (inevitably because I am having to sit through another one of my brothers' band rehearsals, which makes me both jealous and annoyed at contemporary music). What's more, I'm just so inexplicably irritated all the time at the moment that I can't socialise, I can't relax, I can't compose; I'm turning into this miserable tosser with no prospects and acute deafness in one ear.
What's the point in this bit? I know I went to university to work, to push myself further, but it seems to be affecting me as a person more than my academic mind - Essays and research files are things which will never apply to my lifestyle ever at all ever never ever again never. I enjoy writing, but not when the topic is a mind melting series of dull questions designed specifically to drain all the happiness from the air around you.
You just wait - I'll get into the swing of the question at about 8pm, write furiously but then find that I have a billion things to pack because I'm leaving for Portsmouth tomorrow. So, I'll be miserable, then realise I've not started my other project either and take it out on those around me. I really hate it, knowing that this is the next inevitable stage, but here I am, sure of it and I can't do a bloody thing.
Any ideas?
'tonm. xx
Book of the Moment: "The Stars Tennis Balls" by Stephen Fry
Song of the Moment: "Stepping Back" by Ben Mi Duck
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