Cassius it’s over….

I used to be one of those kids that thought “What can I do that will make me as indie as physically possible, because that’s cool right?”… I should definitely start wearing skinny jeans, checked shirts, maybe get a Ryan Adams tattoo (suggesting that I am not only cool but also carry a heart of gentle disposition), oh shit yeah and of course I need some rosary beads that can get caught in my oversized scruffy man hair, and I need to not share my music with anyone else incase the kooky (I hate that word) band I like become popular etc etc etc. You all know what I mean. Then we all decided that Indie was too mainstream, and I’m not surprised, what with the likes of the Pigeon Detectives, Wombats, and Kings of Leon becoming what can only be described as the “Asda of indie music”, and so began our affiliation towards smaller bands like Two Door Cinema Club, Tokyo Police Club, and Casiokids. Why though? Because we’ve learnt how to appreciate good music? Or because it’s cooler?

Indie is supposed to mean ‘‘Independent music”, a celebrated ethos of self-production and collective DIY attitudes. Take for example Sun Records, one of the first and most established independent record companies. These guys were the launch pad for the careers of both Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley. What happened when they moved to a major record label you ask? THEY DIED. Ok ok so they didn’t die because they moved record labels, I’m clearly being melodramatic. The point is, Indie isn’t what it used to be and that in my mind is a considerable shame. I think we owe a significant amount of respect to bands such as Little Comets, and Darwin Deez, who still go on stage with their broken guitars and “we’re as famous as we need to be” attitude, because they’re the people that are in it for the music. I am not, however, saying that such bands will one day jump on the Asda band wagon.  I feel at this point, I should add that even the most mainstream of Indie bands have made some amazing songs, and I do look forward to my Friday nights at Propaganda when I can play all kinds of indie and jump around like a marsupial on pills. I just felt the need to express my “mild” irritation. Next time I see some Indie kid with his wannabe skinny-jeaned attitude, I’m going to rip off his abnormally thin legs and beat him to death with them…. whilst singing sex on fire….and dancing round in a circle….naked…. like Queen warrior of the music snobs.

I’ve got a lot of time for people who like music, I’ve not got alot of time for people who like the idea of music.

Back, and spunkier than ever, (ahem).

So, it’s been quite some time since I’ve babbled on to…well…no-one. Basically something has happened that doesn’t happen to me very often… I have been rendered speechless by a number of occurrences that were really quite unexpected:

1. I have fallen in love with a boy (same one as before, still a secret)

2. I have fallen in love with the new Arcade Fire album.

3. I have had to spend some time dealing with both number 1 and number 2.

Anyway, I just felt as though you deserved an explanation as to why I haven’t been posting crap about testicles, the silver fox, or ramblings of my own mind. My blogs are not pre-planned or proof-read because it would lead to me deleting it all and cancelling my wordpress acount. For a change I don’t want to chat a load of shit at you, I just want you to please, please go on the link that I have posted below, close all other windows, and just watch and do what it says. It normally takes a great deal to bring me to tears, but this stunning website has taken me down like Rick Waller sitting on a blue tit.

**   www.thewildernessdowntown.com **

P.S, I’m back now, expect weekly blog posts at the very least. Yay for you!

The Badger’s arse.

Firstly, I like Kid Cudi. I just want to put that out there and tell you that I’m not ashamed. The man is a lyrical genius and I’m pretty sure I have pure unadulterated lust for him. Anyway, I was shown this song a few weeks back. Now because I like to think I am the fountain of all music related knowledge (I’m definitely wrong about this), it’s not always easy to admit to liking a song that someone else has shown me. There’s these lyrics in the song, “As long as she don’t need stupid amounts of makeup to makeup the self esteem.” Now despite it’s slight grammatical errors, I like this line. I’ll happily be the first to admit that I look like the unkept face of a badgers anus first thing in a morning, but it’d be nice not to fear the possibility of horror on a boys face when I they wake up and wonder how the funny and spritely girl they know has managed to evolve into a death-eater only 12 hours later.

Despite being told by numerous people that I don’t look that different without makeup, I do recall having a boyfriend and allowing my fear to become such an issue, that every morning I used to set my alarm at 7am, just to get out of bed, brush my hair, clean my teeth, and put some ‘Au Natural’ makeup on all without him knowing. To be fair it was amusing to hear him say ‘‘God you look so perfect in a morning’’, and I’d secretly be thinking ‘‘ahaaaa, you have no idea I’m a closet moose’’.  I’m very aware this is abnormal.

So yeah I pretty much moved on from the psycho morning attitude, but the fear has never really warn off until late. The ‘‘someone special’’ who I’ve mentioned in recent blogs has managed to shit all over my self-loathing morning glory with his ‘‘I’ve never found you more attractive than I do when you aren’t wearing any makeup’’ comment. I kinda wanted him to say ”Only Badgers Arse is as rough as a badgers arse”, but I think he’s a bit too traditional for that. I’d tell you who he is but he can’t be named, like Voldemort only alot hotter and with a fortunate lack in multiple-personality-syndrome.

Must go, Magnus is coming tomorrow and we all know what that means. Testicular exercise.

Happy, actually. xo

Are you ok? I’m ok.

Since starting this whole blog obsession, I’ve been wondering why I’ve been whoring myself out so much trying to get you all to read and understand the ridiculous crap that wanders through my mind. It’s 3:20am, I need to get my priorities straight. The aim of this blog is to babble on about the things that happen to me in my life, and how I associate all those different things with music.

I’m sure everyone at some point has been in the situation where they listen to a certain piece of music and can’t help but relate it to a previous event/time/place. Well, I’ve decided to make a playlist of 10 songs that have always, and will always, mean an awful lot to me. Below is a list of those songs, with a description of why they mean so much. Can I just quickly request… don’t judge me on song number 1? My aim for 2010 was to feel no shame. All the songs are linked for your pure orgasmic audio pleasure.

1. Jimmy Eat Work – The middle. I lost my virginity to this song. I’ll give you a moment to stop laughing… and I remember giggling at the time to the lyrics ‘’It just takes some time, little girl you’re in the middle of the ride…’’ I don’t suppose giggling during your first serious sexual encounter is something that is meant to happen.
2. Beirut – Nantes. I was sat upstairs, listening to this song, very drunk, in the middle of the day, with my friend Tommy. We were talking about all the things that could possibly make us unhappy, and I remember he said ‘‘Hey, everything’s gonna be ok. No matter what happens, whenever it happens, everything is always going to be ok. Are you ok? I’m ok.”
3. Iron & Wine – Naked as we came. The title of this song is in fact my next tattoo, I remember hearing it about 4 years ago and laughing because I thought it meant ‘‘Hey, you take your clothes off and I’m going to sperm all over you’’. Once I stopped being a prat, I realised that this meant: we are born into this world naked, with nothing, and we leave it. naked, with nothing, and that we can’t take anything away with us, so we may as well make the most of things whilst we have them.’’
4. The National – About today. Why? Because I heard it, I liked it, and I realised that music is in fact…it. Everything.
5. Soulsavers – Revival. This song started my obsession with music videos. If you get the chance to watch it, you really should….
6. Wu Tang Clan – Gravel Pit. Strange choice? Not at all. This was the first song, by the first band, that I watched at my very first festival. They asked everyone to stick their middle fingers in the air. I was so drunk that it took a good few minutes before I realised I was putting my index finger in the air by accident. You know, like the ‘night fever’ dance.
7. Ratatat – Loud pipes. The very first time I realised that a song doesn’t have to have emo lyrics to make it good. Pivotal moment right there.
8. Refused – New Noise. I heard this the very first time I went to Corp on a Monday night, and realised that boys with tattoos are in fact the future.
9. Max Richter – Vladimir’s Blues. I was in the middle of some sort of lonesome tantrum, when I decided to drive out into the countryside, sit on a rock, have a cigarette, and listen to this song on my ipod. The rock I’ve mentioned is the one I mention in this post >>
10. Jai Paul – BTSTU. The song I was listening to when I realised that sometimes, you just can’t help who you think you might one day fall in love with, no matter how hard you try. Also, this song is effortlessly fucking awesome.

So yeah, that is all.

I’m going to go and think about strategies to sneak a micro-pig into the house without my housemate knowing whilst eating some bread. Magnus (the silver fox) say’s I’m not allowed bread. Yeah? He can suck my left one. I’m hungry.

Night xo

The Swedish Silver Fox and his cock pouch.

Having received numerous messages from quite a few people demanding more stories about my Swedish personal trainer, Magnus,  and his inability to understand British humour, I thought I’d fill you in about my training session today. Today was core training, this involves doing numerous horrific exercises including ‘The Plank’. One I am particularly shite at because apparently my ‘core is as strong as a clothing line made from dental floss’. His words, not mine.

When I was little, and by little I mean up ‘til the age of 19 when I moved out of my parents, I used to watch my Mum do this exercise in the kitchen, on the floor, naked, with the dog using her as a toy to jump over. It sounds amusing, but I can’t find the words to describe just how mentally scarred I am. Anyway, after a while I start to complain about a pain in my lower back/top of my bum, which unfortunately led to a 15 minute sports massage. Now, I hear the word massage come out of the mouth of an attractive middle-aged Swedish man with silver-blonde hair and blue eyes that could melt even Joseph Stalin’s heart, and immediately, I got a little bit excited (by excited, I might mean aroused). What a massive idiot I am. This was the worst 15 minutes of my life. I had the Swede, in all his short-shorted glory straddling me from behind, pressing his elbows into my buttocks saying ‘‘Your arse is so tight’’. You don’t really know what to think about that do you? No. Neither do I. I am always the first to jump at a chance to make an inappropriate joke, but I was in so much pain I couldn’t even muster the strength to giggle at his ‘‘Well now… we will have to have a weekly gluteus loosening session’’ comment. (I can’t hear the words ”Well now” without thinking of the track below produced by a relatively new DJ, Jesse Rose. Have a listen, ‘cos I say so).

I have never seen shorts quite like his, and I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve looked close enough to see that little mesh pouch that protects, you know… a males ‘‘area’’ and keeps everything in place. I assume that’s what it’s there for, what with me not having a penis and all, it’s kind of difficult to tell. Don’t do a very good job though do they?! There was definite scrotum during our lunging session. Do you know how it feels to lunge towards a man who’s love spuds are also being thrust in your direction? It’s very distracting, and for the first time in my life, I was confused about whether to feel amused, excited, or sickened, a combination I’m not so used to when in the company of an attractive man’s crotch. In future I will request shorts that are either longer, or tighter. Though not speedo tight. I don’t want a Coronary.

That’s all for now, I’m going to go and have a cold shower to wash the shame away. I was going to have a quick nap, but I know I’ll start dreaming about Tom Selleck in short shorts. A perfect combination. xo

”Shall we catch those sheep?”

There’s a place in the countryside with a rock I am completely obsessed with. I swear all the cigarette ends in a hole in the rock are mine that have just built up over the last few years. Anyway I took someone special there tonight, mainly to show this person that nothing else really matters when there’s just the two of you. Sometimes I’m so disgustingly romantic it makes me want to throw up in the back of my mouth. I had the above song stuck in my head at the time, by The Sunshine Underground, which seemed rather fitting considering we were watching the sun go down. Oh, and whilst having my face eaten off by flying insects, I managed to momentarily man-up enough to this rather lovely picture:

People are…strange?

For someone who spends as long as I do striving to make new friends and acquaintances, I’m not really all that sure I even like people. That must seem pretty odd, I know, but stick with me whilst I try to explain myself.

When I was at school, I used to dread going into the classroom in a morning, simply because the idea of going and sitting with friends and making idle chit chat made me feel awkward. I wanted to sit there reading my book and listening to music and not have to participate in the meat market that is a Secondary School classroom.

Ever since recognising this, I’ve been trying to not give myself the pleasure of turning into what we would have officially called a ‘mono’. What I want to understand, is whether I fill my life full of friends because it’s something I feel I really need, or whether it’s something I feel I have to do before I slip into a unacceptable social coma…. z Z z Z z Z z.

I could wake up one morning, perfectly happy with my plans for that day, perfectly happy thinking about someone who means an awful lot to me at the minute, perfectly happy that I found a whole bag of tobacco under my pillow this morning. BUT…. What happens if something goes wrong? Now that won’t be solely because of me, that could only happen with the help of someone else. It seems almost pathetic to use the word ‘scared’, but that’s generally what it is. I’m scared that someone can have the control enough to shit all over my happy day. However, as previously mentioned, my day might just be good because of other people having a part to play in it. In essence, I am quite frankly confused about how I feel at the minute and what concerns me most is the effect this confusion is having on the way in which I live my life. I do not like having the control of being able to impact so greatly upon someone else’s day, surely in effect this means I should just be nice all the time? That way, I can’t ever really negatively impact upon the feelings of another. Maybe I should start working on how nice I am to other people, I’d hate to think I could change someone else’s day in the way that they could change mine.

Someone gave me a Bueno the other day, you know, crispy creamy and light? I instantly fell in love with this person. I fear I have a mild personality disorder and undertones of issues regarding attachment.