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.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
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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