March 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Most writers write because they are unhappy. Which is probably why most humans beings do anything, that sense that it will improve their lives. But writing is an interesting one in this sense. The fact of the matter is happy people make boring writers, for me at least. I hope I don’t sound too much like a goth 14-year-old girl but happy writers – who write happy books about teenage girls who fall in love and marry their childhood sweetheart and two months later it’s a shitty rom-com making shit money off awkward first date couples – are shit. Where’s the meaning. That’s not reading a book? Is it? Am I just a cynical bastard? Do you get the same kick from that as I do from Hemingway? or Sylvia Plath? I hope for their sake they do. Reading is as personal as music I suppose. People like different things. Miley Cyrus is Bridget Jones Diary while Jeff Buckley is The Bell Jar, Paris Hilton is the Princess Daires while The Libertines are Fear and Loathing. It’s depends on what the artist is aiming for and if it’s what the mainstream audience want. Money or the expression of art.
March 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
“There’s no god, so clap your hands together”- Frank Turner
The dandys where never going to stay punk. Punk is dead. Long live the queen. South Londons not the same. Steaming. Here we go again. Wheatus. If it’s swiming it’s greedly drinking water. Vodka yours friend. Your happy so don’t think about her. There is nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo god. Okkervil river. Two girls at once. Punk is still alive. Blood, lots of it and cold. It’s truely insane, we are really touching the void, me and my friend dan, this is the point of no return, return is for the dead, the soldout, the softcore, the poor of character, the cheap, the easy, the sluts and the whores, return is not for you and me, the only reason behind manner is to push through, me and you, it’s just me and you, like Hitler and Eva but with a much more worthwhile cause. I love you. I love you like a child loves his dog and his football team, that mad wild devotion where no one misses a trick. It’s all punk. It’s all clean. Kneck on the line, I love you and I shot first in the Duel, I missed, I’m fucked on the hope you miss me too. Much love Simon Blake.
March 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
Fuck anyone on the moral high ground, your only there because your too boring to be anyone else. Fuck anyone sat on the fence, you should have grown out of that by now. Fuck the ill informed who jump at the first chance to preech to me about issues that they know nothing about. Fuck it.
March 3, 2011 § 1 Comment
Far be it from me to name drop, I mean really, I find name dropping a disgusting practise. “So you were once in the same room as someone who actually achieved something? Wow, you’re so fucking cool.” Give me a break. But I once had the fortune of meeting Charlie Sheen. Now I’m not claiming that I was his best friend, even though he might have told me he was, it was just a one-off meeting that will not be repeated. It was in Vegas. A lot has been said about him in the press recently and it’s all been the same sort of far right attitude to drugs. “How could you do this Charlie?” “What are you playing at Charlie?” “You’re in two and a half men Charlie! You can’t be taking crack!” Well let me tell you that Sheen is a card-carrying holder of the hardcore. He’s like that moment when you pick up a guitar for the first time and your blood turns and you think you might just be a rock star, but constantly. In his veins is that insane amount of love and passion and the desperate hope to express it all at once. He was sat in a very private V.I.P section that I managed to blagg my way into on press credentials. I noticed him in the corner with two women, it was definitely Sheen, I knew straight away. Due to my job I get access to environments I would not be able to afford, this means I see a fair few. The policy I have with these people is to basically ignore them in the nicest possible way. They get strangers coming up to them all the time wanting conversation and they don’t need it from me. But it just so happened that I wanted to play some black-jack and so did Sheen. So I’m at this black-jack table with Charlie Sheen in Vegas and I’m on fire. I mean really, my streak of luck in this game was unreal, the powers that be were certainly starting to get suspicious but I had nothing to hide. I won a hand after drawing on a 18, 3, 21 Sheen looked up and just said “Shit, win, that was unreal man!” He had obviously been indulging himself in some way and for sometime. That was the start of a night went on for a few days. The thing you have to understand something about Charlie, he’s insane in the most charming way. If you buy into his insanity this man is Jesus Christ, if you let it lie he’s a junkie kook. He’s crazy in the coconut. I heard his interview on Good Morning America and apparently he’s clean now and looking to sue CBS, we will see about that. God bless that mad man.
(Subject to editing.)
March 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
“And we were young and we were innocent like a couple of kids in the back row our tempos would always skip.” – Gold & Steel – Isaac Graham.
There’s always that one person who sticks in your head isn’t there? That one person who you think was perfect. It’s always that one that got away even if there were others who did so. It’s sentimental I know, but I still really like it. It’s a strange hope and if I was to analyse it for longer than a fleeting thought I’m sure I would remember exactly why I didn’t twist myself up trying to get her back, then I remember that I did. There’s always one for everyone, but they don’t always match, and that’s why they aren’t together. I thought it was just me for a bit but then a television show reached into my head and pulled years worth of careful thought out and put it into a neat half hour segment, even finding time to inject humour and adverts. We should listen more to these show kids, they don’t mention how much they have to offer. There’s not much you can do about the long-term thoughts. You have to iron them out. There’s no short-term fix, times the only healer for that shit and yes its very hard and yes it takes a lot of control, but fuck it.
Fuck it is a phrase I was a lot in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s the cut of point when I either run out of thoughts or stop being comfortable.