I'm suddenly getting a lot of annoying myspace fluff in my e-mail. Faith wants to be your friend on myspace!
HEY BUDDY WANNA GET LAID TONIGHT?!!
Since you ask...
Then there's this stupid goth band with a page full of bad photoshop and de Sade namedrops, but no actual music. Clever. And some guy called Faber who "wants to make new friends on myspace." He has 1,400. I think he has enough, and I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.
Also, is funk fusion the worst kind of music ever conceived? I think it is.
I dunno why myspace is still there. It's supposed to be this great tool for making connections but every time I've tried to use it for something credible, it's failed horribly.
Hey, get a load of this guy, 'is the open mic still on?' Hahaha. No, we made that page for our open-mic three years ago, and it failed horribly. You're stupid, asking questions like that.
Hey, I tried to listen to your music... But myspace crashed. Or my computer crashed. I think myspace crashed my computer.
I really feel the need to get my music out there at the moment, except sometimes I don't. I think there's a new, manic component to my depression that makes the whole thing much more frustrating. It's as though I never had the confidence before to experience the highs. For instance, I floated down Falsgrave today smiling openly, believing myself invincible and beautiful, wealthy in knowledge, love and sexual currency. I imagined how awesome I'm going to look on my new bike. Yet I caught my reflection in the window on the train yesterday and couldn't have been convinced for the life of me that anyone would ever want to touch me.
I was in Sainsbury's on one of my upswings and I got the checkout girl who smiled at me before. She stopped for a second while I caught up packing and then totalled up.
"Umm, those are mine too."
She seemed a bit embarrassed. She's cute.
I made the paper, kinda. Jamie and I were on the roof on results day this shot made the front page.
How does a man become a literal trainspotter?
I started Charles Bukowski's 'Ham on Rye' on the train to Windermere and finished it on Thursday morning just as I set off back from Nottingham. There's something to be said for the fact that "rye" appears in the title and that it covers some of the same ground, but I'm not sure what. I really loved it. I couldn't relate to the violence, the motives moreso, and the hopelessness, too much.
The jaunt to Nottingham was pretty good, I just wished I hadn't gone on my own. It was all smooth sailing on the way there until I was half an hour away from Nottingham in Grantham and they announced cancellation of the connecting train the very minute it was due.
You're fucking kidding me. In this day and age you don't know a train is going to be cancelled until it fails to show up? I had to wait another hour. When the next train to Nottingham did arrive, they said platform 3 despite it having been scheduled on the boards for platform 4, for the previous hour. Then three seconds later he said platform 4 and tried to cover by calling it a platform change.
Governed by the whim and incompetence of idiots, is so much of this life.
I got into Nottingham and it was new and confusing, and under the extra hour's darkness really difficult to navigate. I lost and found my bearings several times. When I found the place I had this fat bouncer go through my bag.
"Any drinks in here?"
"Er... Not alcoholic."
"Well, you've got this, haven't you!"
He was pointing at a container of juice I bought at Morrison's.
"Er... Yeah. That's juice."
He looked at me like, I said you couldn't take drinks in. Is that what you said? Fuck off, I just want to see the bands!
"You can't take that in."
"Fine. You got a bin?"
"Do you have a cloakroom?"
Helpful. Fuck Rock City.
I caught the last two songs from Former Cell Mates, neither of which I knew because they're new ones. I hadn't seen them since I got into their first album. Never mind. The Gaslight Anthem came on twenty or so minutes later, and it was fucking awesome. How often do you get to shout "everybody leaves so why wouldn't you?" at the top of your lungs and like, point really ferociously with a bunch of other people who also like pointing really ferociously. They played their two best songs within the first fifteen minutes, which was kinda weird, I think they'd put a lot of thought into the setlist and I guess decided not to compromise by encoring with obvious hits. I was only disappointed that they didn't play 'Wherefore Art Thou, Elvis?', I was sure they would and when they said "this is our last song" and it wasn't that, I was momentarily bummed.
I'd texted Becky and she called me about five minutes after I left the venue, demanding to know why the shit I was in Nottingham on a school night. I don't have much in the way of adult justification for it, but I had the money, I've always had this habit of missing bands and having them break up, and I found out just the previous evening that they were in England playing with another great band. I'm trying to figure out if I can shell out to go to Florida for the Fest this year. I guess if I just say I'm gonna do it, I'll figure it out.
I wandered about a bit after Becky rang off and eventually sat down in a quiet pedestrianised side street and read my book. I got cookies on it. I got too fatigued to concentrate and put my head down but I didn't really sleep much. Got up to piss about 2am, sorry Nottingham. But you bastards do it to us all the time. I must have slept a bit between 3 and 4. Around 4:30 I started making my way to the station. I'd tried to find it earlier on my initial wander, but missed a turn. This time I was alright, and I sat in the lobby of the station for the last hour or so before my train arrived. It was just starting to get light and I finished the book and then changed at Derby. I was kinda worried to shut my eyes on the Edinburgh train in case I missed the York changeover, but couldn't really help it. I woke up just before the Leeds stop and didn't really feel sleepy any more after that. I got a bus straight from the train station, didn't even go home. I think I'd have put my head down and that would have been it. I slept for 12 hours last night.
Speaking of America (which made sense until I inserted that paragraph) Davina is back. We met up by the castle and she's pronouncing certain key syllables with a Californian drawl. It was odd, I thought that at some point I'd give her a hug and say welcome back, but she spent most of the time saying how much she hated being back here and how there's nothing to keep her here. She wants to move to SF permanently.
She reminds me of me when I got back from the States. Of course I wasn't there long and it was weird to say the least (awkward mute meets marginally less awkward girl plus stoned roommate and they do nothing for two weeks except feed albinos to snakes, train a beagle to shit on a McDonald's lawn, and play Tetris) and I got over the idea of moving out there. But it was a pivotal moment in my life, and I wouldn't be where I am if it hadn't happened.
These thoughts aren't really linear and it's difficult to flatten it all out for the page.
I know she probably took it as a slight. But then she didn't really go for it either. She made this whole post a while back that actually fucking annoyed me because we'd been really not talking for a while and the tone was "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is" when I was well into getting over that fact at the time. And she did write, "the way I used to make you feel," but I'm not sure if that was melodrama. I'm not sure if she knows that.
Growing out of love with someone in their absence makes seeing them again a very weird thing. You don't get the chance to desensitise yourself to seeing them, their smell, the eye contact. It brings the negatives flooding back too.
I don't know what she thinks of me anymore. Well, I never really knew. But now I don't know if she hates me or if she thinks I hate her, or both. I know I'm filed under hopeless case, which is nice. I know it was three Xs, and then it was one and now it's none. And I know that matters because it was discussed and we're both pretty deliberate writers.
I want her to see me with someone. I'd like to convince someone I'm not the greatest loser on the planet.
I'll call it the whitest lie ever told.