I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king

I don’t care how cheesy this song is, I really like it and I’m gonna turn it up. It sounds good whether you’re crying or laughing.

Bit of a crappy video though.

Ah, can’t embed videos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIiUqfxFttM

Black Hearted Love

Ooh!

The first noises from the new PJ Harvey and John Parish album can be heard on Monday on Radio 1 with Zane Lowe. I don’t like the way he shouts so much but I’ll endure it for the length of time it takes him to build up to playing the single.  His show starts at 7 and then you can download the track from here or here

Was talking recently about whether or not it would be possible to go on a pilgrimage across the UK from South East to South West on horseback.  If anyone’s done that then let me know how it’s done.  Heh… Maybe it’s a highly stupid idea.  Good to fantasise about though eh

The Angel of The South Is A Horse

Yay! Mark Wallinger won, which means there’s going to be a 50m high white Horse on the landscape, known as The Ebbsfleet Landmark, which is in Kent.  He’s going to use a real horse as a model {well, I should hope so.} Its called Riviera Red by the way..and won its race this afternoon! Could be a safe bet…. Anyway.. I’m excited because this is the one I wanted to win   The guardian tell us more and include a really creepy picture –  

(Thats actually a picture of a 50m man looking at a normal sized horse is it not)

http://www.ebbsfleetlandmark.com/ wooo horses!

It’s 4 in the morning…

I just walked back in the rain, I enjoyed the sounds it made with the wind. Nightmare journey back from London, with the slow train to Three Bridges (50mins) then the hour bus ride from there, no one replied to my texts asking if I could stay in London, bastards all of you.

I spent the night with two of the most in love couples I know, got sweated on and groped by a fat smelly ginger man who said “You’re the one I love the best of them all” before smearing his face all over mine, bumped into an awkward friend just as I got off the tube (having to spend the rest of the night making conversation with him as my housemate is so enthusiastic about her boyfriend’s crap band that she invites everyone) and had to pretend to like said band. “Mm yes, they Are really good, yes I like this one too. It doesn’t at all sound like all the others.”

Enjoyed one band though, they reminded me of Godspeed/Mogwai and did massive soundscapey stuff to Akira which they had playing in the background. It fitted my mood pretty well as it meant I could get sucked in and pretend I was somewhere in a kind of daydream. They were called The Abiyoyo… The people I was with thought they was boring..I guess some people don’t find it easy to engage in things that aren’t immediately engaging..or rewarding. I don’t know what I’m trying to say but fuck it.

Maybe this band was just good in comparison to the one that looked like five 14 year olds on stage after one too many cans of Fosters, the lead singer was trying to gyrate his way out of his school uniform all set which luckily he didn’t manage.

Oh anyway. When I walked past the big block of flats below the station the wind was blowing through it so strongly that it sounded like a train, and that’s mainly what I wanted to say.

New Things {for a new year}

Maybe this will be a list I just add to over time, I don’t want to overload myself early on..

• No more smoking
• Become a puppeteer
• Do more washing
• Pay off overdraft
• Learn that instrument
• Do Reiki II
• Go to Peru
• Learn to knit a jumper
• Draw more pictures
• Take more pictures… of unsuspecting things
• Read more
• Write more
• more
• more
• more…

‘Dolig Llawen Eto…

It’s boxing day. I can’t drink any more red wine, because it feels like my veins are so thick with it its actually choking me at the neck.  I’m living in a bungalow with my mum.  There is no-where to hide.  Well, there is but the computer is in the lounge.. and its cold everywhere else in the house.   This is what’s running through my mind as I sit and endure Christmas.

I can’t take any more ITV (Incredible Twat Vision) because of adverts and soaps like Coronation Street; everything is over acted, over emphasised and interpretated in such an over emotional way.  Everybody has annoyingly whiney voices too.  Maybe this is because I’ve been living down south and find it easier to put up with the accents on Eastenders…but to be honest the reason I prefer Eastenders is because I like the misery and its quieter. 

Watching this crap is like being tied to a chair and made to sit in front of the waltzers at the fair..  Also, people don’t talk this loudly in real life. 

I don’t want a northern twat to tell me I should be eating Activia to “Improve my digestive transit” LEAVE MY SHIT ALONE!  I feel like my skin has been peeled away and someones rubbing salt all over me but its okay because THERES 15% off EVERYTHING! EVERYWHERE!

Anyway none of this is as bad as STRICLY COME WANKING  (If only it was a tv show about wanking!)  My mum’s an intelligent woman, but intelligence seems to have nothing to do with her choice of entertainment.  She’s become immune to the ear bleeding noise, the fake smiles and the complete BANALITY of the whole set up.  Who are these people?  Where are their imaginations?   

The program is just filler, its the toast of the tv world.  When people watch a lot of telly they panic when there’s nothing to watch, so they watch anything.  Like comfort eating – desperately reaching for a loaf of bread to stop the craving and fill an imaginary hole.  UGH, I mean I love toast and I’m sorry to sully it’s good name in such a context but we all know this has nothing to do with ACTUAL TOAST.  

AND…My theory on Bruce Forsythe is that all his limbs and facial muscles are attached to really tiny invisible wires strung up to master puppeteers in the roof tweaking him in the right directions like a wooden doll.. But a doll stuffed with fake tan and sexism. He really should have died by now surely.  This is quite funny  http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Bruce_Forsythe 

It’s quite sad that people use television as such a crutch.  Periodically you’ll get a show about a show that used to be on but isn’t any more and its a reward for people who have been engrossed in television for most of their existence, so they can sing along to the theme tune and convince themselves that the last few years of their lives haven’t been a complete waste.   I know all this is pretty cynical and negative but it’s what happens to me if I’m sat in front of a television at Christmas with an over-sensitive/lonely mother. I haven’t watched television to this degree for years and it means I’m not immune to the lumps of shit thrown in my face in such a gratuitous sickening way anymore.

My mum sits there like a pebble flitting between soaps and reality tv shows and asking if I’m okay every five minutes because she is massively concerned with how I’m feeling all the time.  She genuinely is and I don’t know if you’ve ever spent time with anyone like that but it’s awful.  They latch onto everything you say or do and are way too aware of all your moods; whether or not you just smiled; if you sigh; if you put the glass down on the table a little too loudly or if you say “no” to three questions in a row without elaborating. 

I obviously need more space than this. 

I just looked at a picture she took of me earlier today and the expression on my face is one of “FUCK OFF” quite plainly.  No wonder she is scared of me.  Maybe we’re just totally incompatible.  I’m musing about what to drink and say “I can’t decide what I fancy”  more to myself, but she tries to make the decision for me by listing all the things we have available - which are all lined up on the counter in front of me - as if her repeating them to me will jog my senses more than my own eyes will! 

It’s as if my conversation is like breadcrumbs thrown out to a starving bird.

All this is punctuated with one of the dogs trying to shag everything, another looking petrified about the prospect of giving birth to a litter of puppies any day now and another dragging a day old turky bone around the house trying to hide it from the other two.

I’m going to go and eat a whole box of Cointreau Truffles

Spleen

• People are smiling in photos all the time.  It’s not realistic.  It’s not even that I mean people are always un-happy.  But no one grins inanely all the time.  Stop it, stop fucking smiling.  All of you.
• Other PJ Harvey fans.. on forums, who:
  1. Say things like “it woud be amazing if she did an instrumental album”  no it woudnt. Come on.
  2. Say “I think the new album is a come-back to the Dry era” if you’re actually a big enough fan to join a forum and post endless pictures of her face, shoes, arms, legs, lips etc and make computer games characters based on all of her “images” throughout her career, then you should be able to fucking realise there is never a come back for her, because that is the one thing she tries to avoid every new project.
• People who plan endless activities I’ll want to be involved in meaning I can’t spend enough time on my own in my room ranting and listening to angry women, meaning I just can’t think straight.
• The alcoholic mother and heroin addict son at the back of the bus who decided to have a full blown public airing of their problems complete with threats to slit our throats if we turned around. You’re not that interesting, jesus. She’s 56 and had two strokes but is going back to Spain tomorrow because SHE CAN’T TAKE NO MORE!
• The dream I had about someone’s ex, (who I was going out with in the dream) in which I told him what a prick he was, who made me so angry I woke myself up shouting
• THE MAIL ON SUNDAY WOMEN’S MAGAZINE and the fact that I lost the notes I wrote whilst reading it, because I still write on scraps of receipts and backs of envelopes. Suffice to say it deserves its own post.
• Leaving my home-made customised soft woollen black hat on the bus
• Not having any of my moulds ready in sculpture class, meaning all I did for two hours was hold a hair dryer up against some wet latex
• Finally, the guy in the pub who tried to “put things in perspective” for us by detailing the deaths of four of his friends over the last few years.  I’m not any more happy about my life, I’m now just sad for theirs.  Thanks.
• And! Mince pies.  I don’t like them but I force them down anyway, I don’t know why… The phrase “Deep Filled” flashed on the front of the box strikes the fear of God into me. They actually look like two arses spewing shit.  Ha ha ha

A Woman A Man Walked By

New PJ Harvey and John Parish collaboration.. 30th March with a tour to follow.  Wonderful stuff

Singing Deer in a Cab

A couple of nice videos…

King Creosote on the way to Green Man Festival

(Made me laugh anyway..)

..and this one is lovely -

Jeffrey Lewis in Leicester Square

I’d embed the videos but I cannae

Jeremy Kyle

Look what the observer has to say…

http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2008/sep/07/itv.television

I haven’t finished reading it yet because I have to go to work but it was making me pretty angry all the same