January 30, 2011 § 1 Comment
“I’m doing what I really like and I’m getting paid for it.” “No Key No Plan – Okkervil River.
I never got on with my brother, not one bit. The problems between us were many. We both rejected our middle-class upbringing but in very different ways. In dress sense, manners, education and political views he very much favoured the upper class. While me in music taste, dress sense, manners and political views favoured the lower, what’s more I held a large amount of loathing for everything he stood for. In my opinion he had no right to act the way he did given the way we were brought up.
Another problem we had was in education he excelled, on top of this he never got in trouble. He kept quite and he worked because he had nothing else to do. He never rolled in at 8.30 am cut up and bloody barely conscious, he never broke any windows or punched anyone out, his friends never threw up in our front room. He was a dream for my mother. He acted the way she always dreamed her son would. He passed through adolescence like a dream through my parents head. While I, as regular readers may imagine, was a drunk punk fuck up. His teachers loved him. My teacher wondered why I couldn’t be more like him, something I probably shouldn’t have resented him for, but still, I did.
It carried on as we got older. When he went to university my parents went to see him about every month. When I went to university they came to town twice, first to drop off my stuff, secondly for graduation. Granted there were vast differences in distance between our uni’s and our home, but still.
He was never a fighter. I suppose in our family we could always go to our parents with our problem, that option was always there, but we never took it. Never. People say that a problem shared is a problem halved, but for me this just wasn’t true. A problem shared is a problem that you can’t just turn off. A problem shared is out of your control. A problem shared is trouble. We sat on our problems. We thought our shit through. We got on with it. It made us strong and it made as smart. So in that respect I can’t blame him for never being there for me when I was in trouble, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.
He was stubborn as fuck as well, that always pissed me off. We only ever argue. Fuck it, what can you do about these things? That’s just the way we are. Very little annoys me more than spoilt rude children. I’m currently on a train journey in which one is being very rude to his mother. Far be it from me to encourage slapping children but if ever there was an advertisement it this little fat kid. My adventure with the band starts in a few days. For legal reasons I can’t mention the name. Mainly because I know the boys and I can’t write all the shit we will be getting up to if you know who they are. Although, once we get going I’m sure that anyone who does a jot of research will be able to find out who I’m with.
It’s going to be like the bad old days.
No Longer an Astronaut.
Simon Blake. x
January 25, 2011 § Leave a comment
“Keep calm and carry on.” – British Public Service – 1940s
There are times in your life when your hit with everything life has got. The worst thing that could possibly happen happens. The sky doesn’t split. It just you breathing in and out trying desperately to come to terms with it. When you come back from one of those you come back stronger and harder. The fact is we always come back from those, we have very little choice. But what happens when you take it all? You bounce back from everyone until you have nothing left to bounce back from? Your sure as hell can’t come back from that.
P.s I got the gig, it’s going to become a little strange for a bit. Thank you for your attention. I love you all x
January 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
I’m in a rush.
Dubrovnik was a blast, it always is. I had my article written by the second day of my stay and spent the rest drunk off my ass in old-town. As an international tourist destination it provides the most magical combination of people. I’m sat in the small airport now and have just read an email from a very good friend of mine. It was with regards to an extremely interesting offer. The friend, who I met through Maxi, is the singer of a quite well-known underground indie band who will soon embark on a European tour and, here’s the kicker, they want me to come along and write the whole thing up. It’s a pipe dream at the moment but what child didn’t dream of going on tour with a rock band? Even if it is as a pencil pushing journalist. Fuck it, I have to say yes, it may be extremely detrimental to my health but it will make great journalism and, I hope, be an interesting read. I’ll be keeping you posted. My next stop is Mexico city for a hotel. What goes on tour stays on tour. Fuck yes. This is the start of something.
P.S thank you all kindly for your kind words.
We used to be slick, subtle young hips, romantic kissable lips. Unbearably sharp, unbreakable hearts. With wide eyes and faith that life could never pull us apart if we were OK.
January 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
“I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone no doubt about it.” – basket case.
I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a lot of self-loathing. Stilettos and Scoring? What the fuck was that patronising shit? I hold in incredible distaste the person who wrote that and I’m sorry I did. I’m sort of a car crash inside my own head. When I was younger I thought I was play pretending at problems to attract attention and make girls think I was a deep and an emotional sort. Unfortunately what I thought was play pretend was the start of the real deal. I slipped into a slow bleeding depression with anxiety. I lost my confidence because I didn’t see the point in having it. The thing is there was always two version of me. The first is a charming, polite, mad individual, well dressed and would talk to strangers for a laugh. The second is very quiet, very sad, very lonely and locked inside his own head. I’m seeing less and less of the first. It’s messy. I have little release. I wouldn’t kill myself, I’m not that drastic, I’m not that selfish and frankly I wouldn’t give myself the satisfaction.
In this situation when you are left alone the only thing that rattles inside your head is the desperate search for a solution. It is a desperate search. It’s all you want. It is what a goal is to a striker, it is what a gig is to a guitarist, it is what sex with a girl is to a thirteen year old boy, it’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, it’s the promised land and it’s the light at the end of the tunnel. But at the moment there is no rainbow or tunnel or promised land. It’s a fucking spiral at its hard to see myself coming back. The thought that ruins every epiphany at the moment is “This is it, this is the thought that changes everything.” And bang, it’s gone, with all the rest of the them, back into obscurity. I don’t talk to my friends much any-more and they don’t talk to me. I miss them. The trouble is I really don’t trust people. It goes back to way back in the day. I used to lie about the smallest of things just to make myself seem normal. Things that I didn’t even need to lie about. I lied because it was easier than having to do the complex explanation. Fuck, I get so worried about the most pointless shit. I play out countless scenarios in my head that I would like to happen, or ones just so I can be prepared for. They never happen. I used to be so fucking happy. I used to have so much hope. I was wide eyed with faith. The magic’s gone.
They all say the thing. “Don’t worry so much.” “Relax” . You think it’s that simple? Ok, I’ll do that, problem gone. Fuck you, oh course it doesn’t work like that. I worried I’m stuck with this. As I push further away from adolescents it seems to follow me closer. I thought I would level off and not worry so much and relax. The angst has just grown. In case you hadn’t noticed I have very few people to talk to about this. I’m worried my friends will leave it as it is. The more I write about it the more I worry that I’m a fucking basket case. It’s gone further than I thought it would. I have stopped drinking so much booze to see if that would help. It didn’t. Professional help is a few months away if it persists. I think the only redemption, temporally, even if it’s nothing but a distraction, is a pretty girl. If I come back from this it will be with vengeance.
I remember an ex of mine could see it. I could see in her eyes that she could see it unfolding behind mine, I thought I was just playing and had her convinced, but it turns out she was right. She worried about me and it turns out she was right to. I wish she had warned me more then she did.
January 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
“Where is my mind?” – Where is my mind? – Pixies
As a younger gentleman I was over confident to say the least. Especially around the ages of 17 and 18 and especially around members of the opposite sex. While some were going through their “I can’t talk to girls” phase, I was taking advantage. I was in a shoe shop on Oxford Street in London when a girl asked me “Excuse me, do you have these in a size 9?” I span around to see a very pretty girl of around my age all on her own smiling shyly, that type of smile that makes life feel a little more interesting for the next few minutes. I paused for a moment and looked around the shop, should I break the news to this girl that I don’t actually work here? “I’m not sure madam, let me just check for you.” Heavens, I was not going to embarrass the girl by telling her I was not on the payroll.
I took the shoe from her hand, it was a strappy black stiletto with a heal of around 5 inches. I looked across over at the counter where the only two employees I had seen were deep in conversation. I ducked behind the curtain which lead the way to the storeroom was away to the left of the counter. I had to be fast and I had to be efficient. It was a relatively small room with tall book shelves staked with shoe boxes. I matched the symbol on the base of the heel to a group of boxes, they had a pair in nine. I was just about to push back the curtain again when I realised the length I had gone to impress this girl. I smiled quietly to myself and pushed the curtain back looking down, hoping that the staff’s conversation had not ended. A few metres away from the curtain I looked across at them, they were still blind to the fact I had even moved. I went over to the girl who had taken a seat on those strange backless chairs they have in high end shoe shops.
“That was quick.” I had been quick, maybe working in a shoe shop was my true calling. Anyway, I stood patently as she put them on, she got to her feet and stumbled into me, she was embarrassed but her confidence was clearly starting to rise. “So tell me, in your professional opinion, do these work on me?” She asked, I let the question hang in the air for a second. “Oh I don’t work here, but speaking with the tongue of an amateur, yes, they do.” There was a second when you could see her mind going through the steps I had taken to get the shoes with the new information she had. She smiled, but that sort of smile when someone says something that is completely insane but a little bit funny and charming. “So do you wanna get a drink?” I asked. Her answer was yes.
The moral of the story is confidence can get you anything and if you try hard enough you can fake it.