| Death is whimsical today... |
[05 Feb 2006|08:56pm] |
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mood |
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 depressed |
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music |
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Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - As Sure As The Sun |
] |
I'm a selfish fuck. I want to die but I have no real reason apart from sheer lazyness. Why the fuck am I at uni? I don't know half the time. Get a degree, train as a teacher, stable financial set up for life. I'm a quitter, I know already I won't last as a teacher. I enjoy the social side, I even enjoy the course, but I know that I'm really just wasting time and money here. There's a hole in my soul, I think. There's something been missing for a while, and fuck knows what it is. But do I really want to go home? Where everything is boring and less tolerant? Face my friends and family in disgrace, resigned to getting a mind-numbing job? See out the numbered days of my youth smoking joints with a group of people who apart from music my only connections with are school and the deep sense of despair we all feel but don't speak of? Fuck that.
It's hard to make a clean start. I'm a fuckwit when it comes to relationships, friends or otherwise. I can't help but relate anecdotes to people which they wouldn't care about. Good press for my mates, even if they are 100's of miles away. But I can't go back for that, everyone's going their seperate ways, they's already gone. Those left are either settled in a trade or never made it off the starting line. Never mind the financial complications. Paying off my uni debts plus the various financial blunders my excess has incurred could take 12 months, 12 months of shop work anyways, 12 months of wanting to kill myself. Again.
Self loathing is interesting. I hate my life and want to die, yet I hate myself for that very reason; I hate what I've become. I think back to when I was just a kid, I had so much passion, so much ambition, I loved life and the shitty hand that was dealt to me, I was going to set the world on fire. Now look at me. I remember once I promised myself I'd never do drink because I didn't want to lose the clarity of thought I had. Jesus Christ. If I'd have seen the future I'd have wept.
I have no motivation, story of my life. I don't know what I want. Or rather I do, I want to be a successful writer/songwriter/musician/film director. Not much to ask eh? I'm wasting what ability I was gifted, and I can't find the power to turn things around. I just seem to be trapped in a cycle spectating. Even though I say I know what I want, it's wrong anyways. I know what I want, but these things are very similar to what my Dad wanted from life. Am I naturally like this, or is this just some sick paternal emulation on behalf of my subconcious? Am I resigned to his path?
It's not just that. There comes a time when you have to be realistic, when you have to accept not everyone gets what they want in life, no matter how hard they try or how badly they want it. But to me, that is like giving up your dreams, and it's like the system won. The system stole your soul. It took your dreams and ambition and turned you into a 'useful' member of society, someone who never gets too drunk or too stoned or out of order, someone who never says the wrong thing or takes offence or defies authority, someone who has lost the ability to think outside of the box.
Every day I think about leaving uni, I think about next year, and what I'll be doing, many times these thoughts don't involve university. And yet I don't know what I could do instead. And that scares the fuck out of me. If I don't know now, will I ever know? At Christmas mam said 'You're nearly 20 years old, you can't keep chopping and changing', but I can't help it. I don't know if that makes me a free spirit or damaged goods. I'm forever compromising my standards. I don't know anything anymore. All I know is, I can't go on like this.
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| Something I wrote at 3am with insomnia |
[03 Feb 2006|03:59pm] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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music |
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Opeth - The Funeral Portrait |
] |
I don't know what this is. It's basically something that started creative, then descended into a bitter critique of myself and the world. Meh:
I catch a glance in my mother's mirror, and I fail to recognise my reflection.
Does not compute.
Am I nearly 20 already?
The hint of an extra chin under a 5 o' clock shadow and the sunken eyes of disarray confirm the ageing that I believed had crept up on me as I slept. A flaw diagnosed at school and written off as a phase has now become apparent; maybe inherent. Poor attention span.
Haven't paid attention in class.
Haven't paid attention to maternal sugar-coated rebukes.
Haven't paid attention to anything for a decade it seems.
Have I achieved the impossible? To be wrapped up in myself yet have total disregard for my wellbeing? Apparently so, ten years of drifting, life is but a dream.
A bad dream to be ended with a bullet? A blood splattered wake up call, sanguine in the comforting blackness or non-existance.
Or a good dream, a modern day fairytale, or believeing the extent of the capacity for human suffering can be realised in a break up with the girl you had a drunken fumble with last week. (You had your heart broken? Tough break, my soul is numb)
Nothing really bad happens. No-one dies young. No-one loses the plot. No-one screws up financially.
Only 'ruffians' get in 'scrapes' and everyone lives to collect a pension and have a grand old time in the pub, the only point where dressing like a catalogue model is not a pre-requisite.
The economy is none of our concern, neither is the environment, or wars in foriegn countries; they are boring and we are young - package them in an MTV video montage with just a hint of vice and you may be rewarded with our fleeting attention.
Simple minds, simple pleasures.
Tonight the rabble tirs without my alcohol fuelled endorsement. It is the end of the night and their hollow laughs ring through the night air, akin to the jittering howls of a mad house. Crazy people aren't so fucking boring. Wrapped in the security of their own lives, social and gender politics rule supreme. The truth is seldom welcome here in any form.
Honesty is the best policy.
Yet it is the truth which has shackled my heart and cast my soul to the flame; the power of home truths. Enter the shattered patriach.
The culture of self.
It is here I could try and theorise, justify and excuse not only my behaviour, but my attitudes and beliefs. I could blame an unhappy childhood, my class, my hometown or any of the mental conditions I sometimes believe I detect a hint of as I go through the motions of day to day living. But that would be cheating, an easy answer. I'm the victim. Poor Me. It's not my fault.
I chose this mould. I picked the ingredients I judged superior from the adopted father figures of popular culture. My Dad's Begbie. My Dad's Scarface. My Dad's Hunter S Thompson and Tyler Durden. More of a rebel than a role model. More of a fighter than a lover.
What is love?
I don't think I know. Apart from the unrequited love of my mother that I was blind to in my ignorance, my only experience of it are the discomfort, loathing and jealousy I feel around couples eager to put on a public performance and the second rate version where you love a girl right up until her knickers are down and your load has gone along with her allure.
What ugly feelings; a poor substitute for love I'm sure. Beauty is only skindeep. What happens when not even the trappings of being physically attractive can redeem me?
I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.
Though if I were to explain my reasons and desires for this, Freud would have a fucking field day. It's a vicious cycle, using sarcasm and bitterness to protect one's brittle psyche. Since I came here I learned people can be verbally backstabbed to death. Social assination, we await the suicide. *That* blood doesn't wash off, and I sit ashamed I rarely practice what I preach, content with the ease of evil and reviled by the trials of virtue.
So much for my reflection.
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| The Renaissance of Live Music? |
[03 Feb 2006|03:06pm] |
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mood |
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 apathetic |
] |
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music |
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NOFX - Linoleum |
] |
Which can only be a good thing, I suppose. Though it does raise interesting issues. I was not one of the cool kids at school. I was more interested in music than cars, guitars than cigarettes. Music was my escape, my release. It just grew, my passion for music, as time went by. The discovery of new bands etc, but sometimes not in such a positive way. I am ashamed to say my taste can be quite self-centred sometimes, and I feel as if the music is mine, like my experiences at festivals and gigs are mine. Now obviously they are, but not in a possesive way. More of a communal way, the whole atmosphere. A gig or even festival would suck if it was only you and your select friends there. Still I can't help but be apprehensive over the growing popularity of live music, if only because for me, it raises questions regarding what will happen to festivals in particular.
The commercialisation of festivals has always been a problem, even Glastonbury is not unaffected by the reach of corporations. And of course the more influence exerted by brands and sponsors, the more mainstream things are pushed in order to secure ticket sales and thus profits. What worries me is the possibility of a bland middle ground coming through. I like the Arctic Monkeys (despite having heard them 9 months ago and gritting my teeth as they get played to death), but what I don't want to hear is a thousand soundalike bands hyped to high heaven, even if they are actually quite good and interesting. I like diversity, by which I don't mean a mainstage that has Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand and The Kaiser Chiefs. I like real diversity, a festival that's not afraid to have Metallica, Blink 182 and Blur as headliners.
Now I may be alone in this rant, I'll probably tread on a few toes, and come off as elitist and narrow-minded, like I'm missing the point of live music, but all I really want is a chance to recapture what was the more interesting side of festivals; all the goths, rockers, punks, indie, ravers and oddballs together in one place, having a good time. The Concrete Jungle/ Lock Up Stage (carling weekend) has been nothing like the atmosphere, line up and crowds of 2003, The headliners 05 played to barely 6 rows of fans, and Bad Religion aren't exactly small or unknown on the punk scene.
The last festival particularly, I felt as though that atmosphere was slipping, lost in the pretentious fashion parade of various subcultures, the same people who were desperate to catch a glimpse of Pete Docherty and throw a paddy if they got a little muddy. Now you can't select who's allowed to go and who isn't simply by what they wear or what they like, labelling isn't the most intelligent passtime around, but every year I know more and more people saying 'I might go to Leeds/Reading/V etc' this year and knowing these people I have the knee-jerk though 'Why the f**k would you go to a festival?', and I'm usually first to encourage people to go, even though there's never enough tickets to go around.
I guess I just feel, if the current trend with festivals continues, and the line-ups get blander, am I forced to go abroad to Roskilde or Big Day Out to try and recapture the magic? Someone will probably reply 'if you don't like it don't go' now, but the point is I didn't just like it, I loved it, and now I want to recapture that feeling, just I'd rather be in the melting pot than the marketing ploy.
Any thoughts?
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[28 Jan 2006|10:21pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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| [ |
music |
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Opeth - The Leper Affinity |
] |
As I write this I am skint. Actually skint, make no mistake about it, the tins of beans and 3 eggs I have left to eat are the only food I have to last me until april, and I have less than pound in cash. I've been here before. I went out last night, aware that I only had 15 pounds to my name (well not to my name, it was the 15 pounds before my overdraft limit was reached), and I needed to do shopping. Thankfully you can buy amazing amounts of food from aldi for just 4.65, but I still spent cash on beer, despite it a) being pound a pint at the SU between 7.30-9.30 and b) drinking gone off John Smiths in an attempt to cheapen the night. And I felt like shit this morning. I over indulged in the 'medicinal' properties of ethergen and marijuana. And the night was shit. Not awful, but not memorable. But these are the risks you take, if you want to achieve legendary nights, you have to be off the cuff, and off your face, for the magic to happen.
I don't know why I put myself in these situations, why I forever fuck up and stress out, wearing a scowl to protect myself from question. I could stop certain doom that is approaching right now, but I simply don't mobilise to intervene. Again, familiar ground, almost like personal appeasement, the long wait that gradually decreases as the tension mounts and and the whole situation explodes with the predicted cacophony of chaos and upset that effects everyone around me, testing my mothers claims to sainthood and breaking again her fragile heart, and all because of my actions, my self inflicted behaviour.
I think it's because it's the only power I can really exert over the world, the only way I can attract interest, by creating a desperate situation, keeping myself stressed but secretly loving the feeling of desperation, the sensation that makes me feel alive rather than the complacent numb of everyday life. Kinda like psychological self harm, the same thing that makes me want to draw and write and direct and compose yet drags me back to quarantine me from failure. I have an appetite yet I have yet to find the tastes to satisfy it. I have conducted many social experiments with objectives and differing factors, yet found nothing which appeals to me in particular. Least not the alcohol I douse my brain with in hope of achieving the 'ignorance is bliss' proverb, taking my soul apart drop by drop, measure by measure, pint by pint, in a round of bravado intended for everyone and impressing no-one.
And as such, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to embrace the creative side of me that yearns to be set free, I don't know how to change my ideas and habits, to think before I speak and truly be myself, to try and find happiness without self destruction. At the moment I'm wrapped up in lies and disillusioned with the general existence of everything and everyone.
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| OMG! I'm back! |
[03 Nov 2005|12:04am] |
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mood |
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 numb |
] |
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music |
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Queens of the Stone Age - In The Fade |
] |
Yeah, so I know I'm a jumped up fuckwit (I can say fuckwit, right?) when it comes to LJ. I'm hardly ever here, and when I am, I suck. I piss and moan, I never have anything good to say, and I usually should be doing something else. As I'm typing this, I'm surrounded by American insomniacs in the 24/7 'learning resources' building we have, thankfully there are currently no drunks or ducks in here at present.Reading week has been quite weird, half the halls (we have a happy family of 36 people living together in ours) have gone home, or had, until today, now about 9 remain. We had a birthday on Monday (Tuesday too but no-one celebrated that guys' - oops) which involved lots of alcohol, a lock in, karaoke, and a bizarre love triangle. Basically I had a chance with a girl from our halls (known as 'incest' and generally frowned upon, but hey, I've already 'shit on my dorrstep' twice since I got here), but this guy, who's a really good friend of mine, is head over heels in love with her, despite her non-romantic interest in him. Tres awkward, and I do like her, but if it's going to cause problems I'd rather we all go back to happy families. I'm typing this now so I can use it in my defence at a later date when I sober up and the shit's hit the fan =p
I went home for the first part of reading week, it sucked, half my mates have gone to uni, the other half are manic depressives/drug addicts/alcoholics. I haven't read the book I need. I bought silly stuff on ebay. Cash looks grim. I need a job as a bouncer. There are complications with this. Too many frickin' forms. But cracking skulls pays well - 15 pounds 50 pence an hour, and since I'm working in sleepy ormskirk it's unlikely I'll get stabbed.
Mam cried because I left early, I miss her, but it's awkward, I break her heart because she regrets marrying my father, and no matter what I do I seem to make the same mistakes he does, I have the same disregard for money and hedonistic/fatalistic outlook. Even though I've been back before, this time was the first time I've actually hugged her. I didn't even hug her when I left the first time. I feel bad for this, make no mistake, but I cannot bring myself to react sometimes. I just freeze up. And after she's done so much for me, working two jobs and commuting to get a degree, being a strong woman to raise me without a father, so she was financially secure to provide for me, and while she was away driven on by love, her little boy grew up with only her fleeting influence, he grew up to be a disappointment.
He's moved to Brixton, seemed eager to fuck off as soon as I'd gone, bullets have left guns slower. I used to eat out of his palm but nowadays everything he says has to pass through the veil of cynicism that comes over me whenever I am in his presence; it's like literally meeting your maker and the awe melting into irritation at the mere mortal who stands before you, eating cold beans and rattling off pipe dreams.
I don't crave death's cold embrace like I used to, I've only had the urge to force it's hand once while I was here, but that was over a woman, and I'll be damned if I take my life over something so trivial as the fairer sex. I still feel hollow though, I am not driven by passion or logic, desire or honour, simply needs that have to be fufilled; Food, Sleep, Drink, Sex, Work. I often get the feeling I will always feel hollow. When I get this feeling I try and shun it, put it to the back of my mind, have another drink, maybe a spliff; make a phonecall or start paying attention to the current social orator again. And that's without the fucking Deja Vu that's been hitting me again recently. I hadn't touched drugs in a month and I got another premenition in my sleep. Nothing serious but I still hat the sobre feeling of knowing what's coming, even if is but for a few seconds. If they start becoming significant I'll either take notes or kill myself. Either is good; they'll paint me with the crazy brush no matter what.
I have gone off on a self-indulgent, semi-depressing tangent. It's probably fatigue, and the fact I have Queens of the Stone Age (not reknowned for their uplifting works) frontman Josh Homme whispering in my ear. 'Live til you die' he advises. 'I want something good to die for, to make it beautiful to live' he proclaims. The problem with that is death. If death were a painless excursion then I'd be more excited about it, but the hedonsim implied in the former suggests a painful shuffling of this mortal coil. 19 years old and already obsessed with the end.
God I'm fucking morbid. Somebody slap me and buy me a drink, please.
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| The week of SOAD! |
[18 Jun 2005|07:14pm] |
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mood |
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 calm |
] |
| [ |
music |
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DJ Shadow - What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 3) |
] |
Yeah, so I saw System of a Down on Tuesday. They rocked, just like last time I saw them. There were quite a lot of younger people there though, which wasn't expected. Not that it's a bad thing, just unexpected. Anyways, in other news I get paid on Thursday (woo go me!) and it's not that long until I quit my job and go to uni and be all happy and stuff. However I wish I'd got a ticket off ebay to go see Interpol on Monday with Macca and Hoon, or even had the cash to go down to Milton Keynes with Macca and Sara to watch Taking Back Sunday, Jimmy Eat World and Greenday tomorrow. I've been making an effort to pick up my guitar every day, which is good. My exams haven't been too bad lately, though revision instead of procrastinating would probably help ease the tension.
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| Oh dear god.... |
[04 Jun 2005|07:40pm] |
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mood |
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 sick |
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music |
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Slow Hands - Interpol |
] |
I'm so very ill today, was last night worth it? I can't remember... Time for a quiet saturday night I think... I also need a new hat because my current one sucks!!! It doesn't suit me at all, I quit like the look of a few but it's getting one that suits me and I like without becoming too poserish, giants who pose are tres lame.
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| AVAST! |
[02 Jun 2005|04:58pm] |
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mood |
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 anxious |
] |
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music |
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Million Dead - Smiling At Stranger On Trains |
] |
So it's june. I haven't won the lottery. I really, REALLY hate my job. But, I have a Leeds ticket, and early entrance permit, a SOAD ticket and I'm going to uni at the end of September...
I recently bought some new stuff, The Young One's series 1 + 2 on DVD, a My Chemical Romance shirt, a Dropkick Murphys shirt and a Rise Against shirt, aswell as a pair of green converse allstars to go with my black vans. I haven't been working out as much as I should do, I'm pretty skint, exams are looming and instead of revising I'm reading Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. Help!!!!!!!!
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| OMG TEH CAMPING!!! |
[15 May 2005|08:02pm] |
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mood |
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 amused |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Squarepusher - Iambic 9 Poetry |
] |
So I went camping last night and threw a sicky off work today. Camping involved impressions of LARPers, instant fire, legions of evil pincer beetles, and trekking through the forest at midnight with a torch when wasted. It was a good night, apart from when the temperature dropped and we all froze to death. Good warm-up for the festy season though!
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| Food! FOOD! |
[09 May 2005|02:24pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 hungry |
] |
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music |
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Interpol - Obstacle 1 |
] |
The cash machine ate my card, the only card with money on it. Oh joy. I'm running out food, but still have plenty of lager. On the plus side it's a sunny day, and I just ordered the Jawbreaker - Dear You limited edition coloured vinyl. Buying things makes me feel warm inside. And that warmth is more important than food.
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| The first post in ages |
[08 May 2005|09:41pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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anxious |
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music |
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The Killers - Everything Will Be Alright |
] |
The first post since I turned 19. The first post this year. The first post since I ceased to be Tyrion. But hey these thing's don't come easy so I'll stick with the name :p
What's hot: Lager, emotionally charged music, lavender incense and working out.
What's not: Grease, mindless thrash metal, George Dubyah, my state of mind.
That is all for now.
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| PH34R MY L337 M0|\|3Y SKILLZ!!!1! |
[14 Aug 2004|01:58am] |
| [ |
mood |
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calm |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Capdown - What Doesn't Kill You |
] |
So anyways, I just decided to take a job at a callcentre on 200+ quid a week, and I get 1500 in september. So I'm basically indulging my inner consumer, whilst paying off some cash where it's owed (yes Lav, I know I'm a twat, but it's coming!). That said, I'm gonna invest in some new threads, as well as an iRiver once i'm square with the house, and maybe even go down to the P tourny (as a player this year), but I need to bear in mind saving money for when Thud comes to the UK, that crazy Norwegian bastard!
In other news, LEEDS FESTIVAL IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!
All is well...
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| A Midsummers Dream |
[29 Jul 2004|03:01pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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tired |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Air - All I Need |
] |
So, I haven't kept quite to my plans but am attending the gym 2-3 times a week, although there isnt't mush of a visible improvement.
I got my Leeds ticket! And my parents are going on holiday for two weeks in a weeks time. Now if I can only get a job life will be good.
A-Level results come in 3 weeks time.
Will post a more coherent update soon.
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| Fighting Fat! |
[07 Jul 2004|06:37pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 accomplished |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Flogging Molly - The Likes of You Again |
] |
Well, I'm two days in, and the only fattening things I've managed are a king sized snickers, a chinese meal and a couple of cookies. Not that bad, but still room for improvement. That said I've been fighting of cravings and pounding the water, as well as becoming a regular gym member.
In other news I need to get a job if I'm gonna get to Leeds festival and pay up some debts on the way, and I do have some bar work this weekend hopefully (hurrah!).
I've been trying to convince my bass playing friend to join forces with me and form a cover band to make some extra cash/play some good music. We'll see what happens.
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| Turning over a new leaf. |
[04 Jul 2004|04:31pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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crappy |
] |
| [ |
music |
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The Distillers - The Hunger |
] |
Basically, I've vowed to eat healthily and go tee-total in the run up to Leeds festival, not only to get back in shape and save money, but because I owe it to myself. I always claimed I'd get really fit if I had nothing else to do, well now I have nothing else to do. Time to workout. My basic week will look like:
6 Gym sessions a week, 1 hour a session, 15 minutes running, 15 minutes cycling, 1000 metres rowing. Arms/legs/abs alternate weights - super-sets. I'll build this up when I get acclimatised to the routine.
I'll keep you posted on the results.
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[25 Jun 2004|10:01pm] |
My Best Friend is ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) jagwire | | Our 5 common interests are: books, computer stuff, drawing, having sex, music | Who is your best friend?
| | Created by macoto |
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[25 Jun 2004|09:53pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 bored |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Basement Jaxx - Bingo Bango |
] |
The test is right! I do suck at flirting!
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[25 Jun 2004|09:48pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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bored |
] |
| [ |
music |
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The Zutons - You Will You Won't |
] |
| P | Pure | | R | Refreshing | | I | Industrious | | N | Naughty | | C | Confused | | E | Emotional | | _ | | | T | Tender | | Y | Young | | R | Respectable | | I | Insane | | O | Odd | | N | Nerdy |
Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com
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[25 Jun 2004|09:40pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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bored |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Reel Big Fish - Good Thing |
] |
| How to make a prince_tyrion |
Ingredients:
3 parts success
3 parts ambition
1 part energy |
Method:
Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Top it off with a sprinkle of lovability and enjoy! |
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