Cravings

I love being English. We were on a train and Vic was getting quite fired up (as per usual) about folks always
complaining about the UK. The NHS specifically, but that's irrelevent.

So while we were in France I had cravings. Mainly for a decent cup of tea and complete control of all music (gah! Mark's music taste... it just makes me ill). But it was English food I missed most. One cannot live on sandwiches and cherries forever.

So today after church I had beans and sausage on toast. It was sooooooooooooooooo good! The butter was literally oozing out the toast.


My Mother puts onion on her sandwiches. Don't you just think that's gross?

In Case You Never Know

"as we grow and follow our own dreams, friendships are no longer as effortless as they once were"

I've been feeling the weight of forever dragging me down the last couple of days. At Manchester Orchestra last night, they played this song called 'I've Got Friends' and its all about letting people go. I sat around a table with five of my closest friends today. And there was only one I felt close to.

The others are just slipping through my fingers.

The right thing to do is let them go. But right now, when my whole life is so uncertain, I can't see it like that. I can only see them leaving me. Leaving me behind for dreams, ambitions, aspirations and new people. So I pull away first.

It doesn't help that my life seems to bore them all. Whether that's true or not, its just how I feel, how I've felt for a while. I'm like a hick country girl surrounded by city slickers. And I hate that so much. I should never resent my life like that; I know how lucky I am.

I discovered something disconcerting in the last week. I can tell the truth. But it's like a transaction. People tell me their truths, bear their shivering souls to my scrutiny and I feel obligated to reciprocate with a piece of myself.

Obligated! Fucking obligated! That's just messed up.

The truth is so overrated. It can make you cry, or hate, or flinch. It changes people. I really don't recommend it.

But there you go. Tell me a secret and I might just tell you one back. And then kick myself for ever opening my mouth.


And like a week ago I said I hate when people write self-pitying posts. This isn't one. I'm young and healthy with freedom of speech and a good family. People would kill to be so lucky. I am that lucky.

THE ROAD

Just to add, Frank Turner's new song is now on his myspace. It's FUCKING LEGENDARY. Check it out or live forever without true musical enlightenment.

Frank is a true poet.

Number 3

Okay, so this one is technically (if we're ordering them chronologically) number 4, but whatever.

3. Go To A Gig On My Own

I've dragged my mates to a lot of gigs. And I've missed out on a lot of gigs. Strangely I just couldn't bear to miss out on Manchester Orchestra.

Going on my own wasn't so bad. I got to the front and waited. And waited and waited. I was, oddly enough, surrounded by Americans too.

Once the band had come on, all was well and being on my own didn't feel strange at all. I was just so glad I'd had the courage to go. It was a great night and the band were great (even though the most gorgeous guitarist in the world has grown a moustache).

Now I'm just thinking of other gigs I could go solo to... like Mew in November... mmm, squee...

Au Revoir

Sooooooooo... I'm going to France today. Which means no blog-age for a week. Unless I find an internet cafe.

Gosh, there's so many butterflies in my stomach right now. It hasn't really hit home that I get to spend a whole week with (some of) my favourite people in the whole world. I'm too busy stressing to be perfectly honest.

It'll definitely be alright.

I was in negotiations with a guest blogger. But most people who read my blog will be in France with me so we decided to save that little treat for when I'm away later in the summer. You can look forward to it.

Egads.

Self-Righteous Facist Dick

There's one thing that I know I'm good at. And lately I've had doubts whether I actually am as good at it as I thought.

People have this ability to knock you down. And the worst part is that most of the time they never realise how they've hurt you. When I have a bad night at work, I think about all the things I'd say if I were to quit right then. But I can't quit. When you have big plans you need hard work to fuel them.

So I just keep going.

I am excited about all the wonderful things waiting for me this summer... but it's all tainted. By failure. Uncertainty. Impending loneliness.

I've been writing. I think it's really good, for once. I'm doing the write what you know thing, even though I don't believe that. And someone keeps bugging me about guest blogging next week. Maybe a week of silence is what this space needs.

I do apologise. I generally hate when people write self-pitying posts. Am I self-pitying? Or stoic? Or just scared shitless?

It kind of says it all that I don't know.

The Music That Saves Me

*Who loves Jack's Mannequin?

Kaz loves Jack's Mannequin!

Is it true?

MMM-HMM! I do I do I do I do ooh!

(*you may only understand this if you were born in the 80s)

Oh yeah baby, we're going watching Jack's Mannequin!!! Squee, squee, squee! And this will bring my 09 gig total up to TEN!!! TEN GIGS IN ONE YEAR! And that's only so far. Who knows how many I might end up attending before the year is out? I have rocked this resolution.

There aren't many bands that make utterly perfect, that make music that you always feel like listening to. Personally, I can only name 5. And Jack's Mannequin are indefinitely one of them. I just can't recommend them enough. I converted Toni, Skinny and Dan into fans (and boy do I take full credit for that). Even Stephenie Meyer credits them in part for Twilight!!!

GO LISTEN TO JACK'S MANNEQUIN!

(Either, 'Caves', 'Swim' or 'I'm Ready')

Number 2 (heh heh)

Oh really, if I ever get too old to laugh when someone says number 2 please shoot me.

2. Go For A Meal In Chinatown

This was a joint celebration of Kyle getting older (woo!) and Vic coming home. I'd wanted to do something a bit... different. And this was certainly different.

The guys ate with chopsticks (must be a macho thing). Toni could barely eat any of her main meal since she was so full from starters. Markie had duck for the first time (and liked it). And we ate orange slices afterwards during which we discovered that I am, apparently, shit (because I don't eat oranges right).

And I finally have overcome my Chinese food phobia (caused by an unfortunate dim sum experience). I still wouldn't say Chinese is my favourite cuisine, but it's nice to know that I don't have to write it off completely.

I love chinatown. I'd recommend it to anyone.