New life

I'm lonely. Unable to inject any life or humour into my writing today.

Friday night, I rang and abused G for the first time. The next day I apologised, not for what I said, but for yelling. Not my style, but hell, did it feel good.

Moved to new place on Saturday. Unpacking all my things alone, without even music was sad. Got everything unpacked in a few hours, and then sat about my empty house, exploring spaces, noting the different smells.

Called G to deliver my stereo. We met at train station. After steering ourselves through some awkward conversations, we finally arrived at my front door. He put the stereo on the ground, handed me the earrings and turned on his heel. Not even a hug goodbye.

Saturday night I drowned myself in booze with Kev, Paul, Rob and John. Met some characters. A crack dealer, some prostitiutes, a couple of high-society girls slumming it for drugs in ghetto lands. Kept thinking of Sesame Street tune: 'These are the people in your neighbourhood'.

Walked home, found flatmate still up listening to music and drinking alone. It was his birthday. We stayed up drinking and talking till 4am - playing guitar too. Funny how much i actually still remember. I picked out Led Zep's Black Dog by drunken ear. Turns out he's a huge fan, so we whacked on the video and talked Pixies and other bands. Stumbled into bed at 4. Woke at 8 under crushing weight of hang over. Unable to move for 4 more hours or sleep on rock hard and vast lonely bed.

The Pixies fan flatmate was up too, and he cooked me breakfast. Poached eggs on toast. Think it saved my life.

With a 'today is a new day' and 'never again' mantra, I've resolved that this is the last time I drown loneliness with booze. It just makes me unhappy and stupid.

Went to gym last night and ran till my legs burned, then cycled till I could barely walk. Had a dinner of steamed veges and protein. Feeling one of my obsessively fit phases coming on - like last year when I lost 10 kilos.

Want to get fit enough to do The British 10k London Run. Run London!

And the dead eyes opened

I'm entering a new phase in life: single in Brixton. It feels like I've lost a shedload of friends, instead I'm going to meet a whole lot more. Always feel so nostalgic when moving, looking at the detritus of my life, the stuff you have kept and forgotten, the stuff you leave behind.

Credit due to Keoshi for this beautiful photograph, found on Reality Photography

So George has been given the old heave-ho. The last post sums up the event, as it happened. No real surprises. We'd been having problems for a while - for almost the entire course of the roller coaster ride. I tried to end it 3 weeks ago, and got talked around. Then he ended it on Monday.

He's played the friendship card with the caveat of time and space first. I haven't taken him up on the offer. He said too many negative things about me, and I don't think I can handle that much negativity and criticism from a friend. He often accused me of things I didn't do, and was jealous and critical of friends he'd never met.

Disappointing that he didn't really know me as a person. I suppose that he missed out in the end. In the end it was all about him and his needs, he always talked over the top of me. Even on Monday when most people would listen to the other and let them vent, he just barrelled on over me and banged on about the 'spark' being gone.

Perhaps if he hadn't completely controlled the situation, and denied me the right to be myself and relaxed, the spark wouldn't have died. If he had just given me some air, some respect.

He says 'it will be different as a friend. it won't happen'. But that's not the point. I know the face, I know him too well to handle that sort of friendship.

There's also the mood swings, and the general coldness and distance from him and his group of friends.

I called Steph and left a teary message on her voice mail on Monday night. No response. A one line email the next day, after I asked her if she got my message, which read: "I don't want to be involved. That is why I did not reply".

Fair enough, I don't want you, or anyone else to be involved, but a 'hope you're ok' would have been nice. If she'd been in my situation and called me in tears because Ry had dumped her at piccadilly tube station in front of hundreds of commuter, I would have said 'i'm thinking of you'. Is that getting involved? Where I come from, we call it showing concern. Having a heart that does more than pump coke around their fucked up selfish brains.

Nah, I'm getting off the love highway ride for a while, and there's no detour in friendship land either for the others. Their loss.



While I'm feeling bitter and full of vitriole,love this Holy Moly site. Noone whinges like the Brits!

Kate Moss: That most enduring totem of empty trendiness, Kate Moss. She has been feted as the face of a decade and an icon for a generation and yet despite being in the public eye for 15 years she has yet to provide a single memorable, interesting comment. Not one utterance beyond the banal. A happy accident of bone structure has earned her a life of glittering jetsetting privilege. She is the epitome of style over substance. I am so bitter. CUNT.

Kirsten Dunst: If I go to watch a film, I don't expect to have the female lead looking like a fucking teacher's pet vampire-toothed scraggy-haired teen whore. I also object to your difficult-to-spell German name. I hereby rename you Dirty Kuntz.

Whale in the Thames: Get Satellite Navigation you stupid cunt, it's 2006.

Keyboard Heroes: people who think getting the last word in during an argument about Star Wars on a fucking Cradle of Filth message board, or some other wank message board, consitutes some sort of "victory". Shut the fuck up! You are a fucking cunt! "Winning" an internet argument is nothing to be roud of champ, like wanking to fat porn or owning an East 17 tape from back in the day, be ashamed cocksniffer, bragging about it just solidifies the fact that you're probably still a virgin.

Brill!

Piccadilly Circus

Will probably blog about this later, and fill in the details. Was going to do it that way, but I've been too busy and haven't had much privacy. All is revealed in this chat with the Yates anyway.

Bon says:
yo yo yo
ian says:
ho ho ho
Bon says:
how are you? what's goin down?
ian says:
chillin on the deck overlooking the rainforest and listening to Keane over iTunes wireless from the PC to the outside stereo................
Bon says:
i HATE keane. fraudulently peddling bland middle-of-the-road ooze while pretending to be an exciting "alternative" rock band, and ruining the credibility of
British music.
ian says:
Some irony there coming from a Stripes fan...And Coldplay are.....
Bon says:
i hate coldplay. you don't even know me, man.
ian says:
I'd be worried if you liked the same music as an old fart like me! I am so sick of teenagers telling me Led Zeppelin and Hendirx are the best. I'm like, get your own fuckin rock stars.
Bon says:
who?
ian says:
Hah! At least we'll always have Morrisey.

Bon says:
been down because i got dumped 2 nights ago
ian says:
I thort you we going to dump? Too slow?
Bon says:
he talked me out of it,
ian says:
Bastard. I hate him already. Gone for a refill...
back. just listening to some remasterd Zeppelin classics. You know, first party, first kiss memories etc.
Bon says:
cool. nice for a first kiss. mine was a tragic music choice with a theme that has dictated the entire course of my love life to date. "enter night, exit light. take my hand, off to never never land." metallica
ian says:
Sort of. First kiss for me was "Whole lotta love" and I was so crap at it that I kissed her nose.
Bon says:
that's sweet
ian says:
She was so cool she said nothing and just tilted her head until her lips replaced her nose. Tragic part is I can remember it like it was yesterday and it was 35 years ago...
Bon says:
that's still sweet
ian says:
I guess it was partly coz it was her party and she spent the whole night being the perfect host including repelling party crashers while I wandered about trying to appear cool as the only one without a partner. Then it was 11pm and she decided to hell with the guests and pounced on me in total darkness with Zep playing on 11. Fuckin' bliss.
Bon says:
well done, you
ian says:
Sorry! half pissed here..
Bon says:
tee hee. that's ok. it's a distraction from my feelings of anger, betrayal and depression. i shouldn't have taken him back.
Bon says:
no, he's right it's been bad for a while, but i thought things would get better. for me it was a grower. i didn't like him that much at first, and we got closer with time. for him it was an initial attraction - spark - but the relationship faded
ian says:
Boys. Never change.
Bon says:
so i'm more annoyed that he wasn't realistic. that every relationship take a bit of work, and that we can't keep the passion going if we don't give each other air (as you said)
Bon says:
he was too protective of me around his friends, too jealous to meet my friends, not ready for me to meet his family. couldn't even go out to a club or a weekend away.
ian says:
Aw c'mon! And no alarm bells going off?
ian says:
You gotta get one who doesn't get jealous, except in a cute hurt sheepdog way, but you might have to wait years....
Bon says:
sure they did. last time you and i spoke. then he took me out to dinner, or talked about booking a holiday together.
ian says:
Oh. I always wanted to be that insincere but never managed it.
Bon says:
we had a nice weekend together. then he asks me to meet him monday night because he had some time to kill before meeting his parents and didn't want to go home and back into town. i thought i was doing him a favour
Bon says:
it was just a trick to get me to the pub, unarmed, so he could say those fatal words: 'where do you see this relationship going?' blood runs cold.
Bon says:
then he followed me to the tube station, and caused a scene at the platform with a 'the spark had gone for me' speech.
Bon says:
i was super cool. i started to speak, and he interrupted me. i said 'can you shut up for once in your life?'. he kept talking and i walked away.
ian says:
COOL! Extra points.
Bon says:
he followed. was on escalator behind me at Piccadilly Circus. i asked him why he was following.
ian says:
I can see a film script here.
Bon says:
he gave me his 'the spark's gone speech'. i said 'have you finished?' him: 'yes.' me: 'then fuck off'. and i covered my eyes until i heard him walk away. actually put my hand over my eyes like we were playing 'hide and go seek'
ian says:
You're going to have to go to a karaoke bar, get drunk and sing "I will survive.."
Bon says:
the tube came. i didn't cry. not for hours. rang a few friends. couldn't sleep. found myself watching a show about detoxing brits in thailand. it was while 4 of them were self-administering coffee enemas and narrating about the resulting bowel movements, that the tears flowed. it was reality tv imitating life.
Bon says:
3am, chamomile tea, mobile phone in hand reading through past texts. tv show about enemas. me in tears, thinking about how shit and mundane and boring life truly is. 'Why am I here?' thoughts.
Bon says:
it's funny.
ian says:
I still loves ya even if nobody else does.
ian says:
And that was funny, even though it was tragic!

Oh Annie

I'm in love with Annie and her song about Chewing Gum, which Kev is convinced is about fellatio.

Hey Annie, well look at you
is that a new boy stuck on your shoe?
C'mon Annie, how is it so
you've always got a new bubble to blow
I'm gonna tell you how its gonna get done
I'm just a girl that's only chewing for fun!
Spit it out when all the flavour has gone
wrap it round ya finger like you're playing with gum

Hmm, it's lucky I've never sent this blog link to the parents. Or have I?

Since the last blog, I've found a place to live! It's in Brixton (SW2!) and, according to my sister, it's close to KLF's old house!

More on it later. Maybe I'll even take photos of the room.

Detox, hetox, retox, take stock

Avoid everyone in January. It's detox gone mad in the mid-winter, post-Christmas, mega gut bloat, crisis management. Can't go anywhere without hearing people bang on about detoxing, the evils of alcohol and white bread, colonic irrigation. Boring!

What people are giving up for New Years:

1. Fags - Irritable bastards, spark up before someone lamps you.
2. Booze - Nothing like sobriety to realise how boring your existence is.
3. White bread - Freud would say that eating brown bread is a manifestation of repressed racism.
4. Sex - Some people chose celibacy while others, namely you, have it thrust upon them. Saying you give it up puts you back in charge.
5. Caffeine - WAKE UP! Probably nodded off before making it to number 5.

What people are starting for New Years:

1. Journals/blogs - Lasts till January 9
2. Gym memberships - Lasts till January 6

Hate to count myself in that number, but I have given up booze for January. I consider it forced savings. After a month I will have saved enough for a holiday - maybe in the snow - and be feeling healthy and fit for it.

But I haven't been able to give up troublesome relationships. G and I met last night, and I was psyched up for a break up, expecting some kind of battle. Instead he acted like a sweetie pie, ignored all the drama of last week, bought me dinner and profusely apologised for being so strange. It's so damn frustrating that such a nice guy can have such intense mood swings. I'm sure Charlie has a lot to do with it.

Things are so complex, messy and intense. He really gets such dark moods and seems to push things as far as he can. He once said that everything was 'ash and destruction'.

Maybe it comes down to Chinese star signs. I'm a rabbit - timid, trusting, affectionate and naive: Stupid. He's a cheeky monkey that enjoys throwing shit at everything. Well, sometimes the shit sticks.

My favourite site of the day: overheard in the office

Web Developer: Nobody ever made money off the internet with a business model that required two hands!
845 High Street
Palo Alto, California

Just like honey

Was going to edit yesterday's vitriole but decided 'fuck it'. It's all true and it still stands. After a night's sleep, I'm not feeling any calmer. Just more tired and fed up. The person that G portrayed in his account of NYE is not me. If that's who he thinks I am than he is in a relationship with someone that I don't know, nor do I want to know.

Went to a gig last night. Former Jesus and Mary Chain - Jim Reid live. Went with Kev, Paul, Mike and his bird Corralie. Left early because I couldn't stand it. Kev's review - good, not great. That's generous. More like - out of tune, but crap.

Still fun to get out with other people and have some fun banter. Of course these awful damaging comments from G flew about my head. 'Do I really flirt? Do I put myself out there?' You know what it's like when someone says something so cutting and harsh about you that you start wondering if it's true, and that impacts how you act in the future because you can't relax and be yourself without questioning everything you do?

God, I really miss my friends that actually do know me, and know the stuff G says isn't true. The friends that would bitch slap me for brooding about it for so many days when it's not worth the mental energy. I need that reality check.

Last legs

Another year, another list of resolutions to break.

1. No beer for a month (lasted one day)
2. No arguments with the boy (lasted two days)
3. No blogging at work (lasted four days)

Resolution no. 2 was not all my fault. I blame a jaded little pill, I blame Charlie, but mainly I blame him.

It started on New Year's Eve. The party started well: had a few drinks, danced with a boy that could swing dance and played Jenga.

It was all going swimmingly until jealousy made an appearance at about 1am. What an ugly thing it is from every angle. It was on both sides. Him, because I danced with that boy and 'looked deep into his eyes'. Me because this girl followed him around all night and played mind games. 'Did G ever tell you about when we did this together? Has he told you about that?' How does she know so much? Were they an item? Why is she always with him, but whenever I talk to him he walks away?

It got worse and more ugly. I caught him going upstairs many times but most of the time he disappeared completely. Possibly because he was ducking upstairs to take far too much Charlie, which he claimed he lost. He took all the pills, then lied to my face about it only 10mins after taking them in front of me and offering me one.

Because I was alone a lot of the night, many guys didn't realise I was spoken for and engaged in innocent flirting. There was no touching, just a few silly comments made. If I was sober enough to realise that was there intention, I put them straight, but mainly I was thrilled at the attention after being bored and leaning against walls. Is it my fault that when a guy talked to me, it turned out it was usually a line?

The final straw was when the married friend fell over, landing with his hand on my thigh and pulling up the dress in the process. Wife laughed it off, but I left the room humiliated and praying that George didn't find out and thump him for something that I was not sure whether was entirely innocent. I felt sick with worry about it. He found me on the stairs - halfway up, halfway down.

Just another messy night really, and yet it's led to all sorts of arguments ever since. Those sort of arguments that aren't just about what happened one night, but seem endemic of everything wrong with the relationship.

The truth we have to face is we've had some problems for a while. Breaking up and getting back together actually made things worse because I'm more cynical and less trusting than ever.

It's a new year, and the 'relationship' could be on its last legs.

I make all the effort - travel to his, meet his friends, suggest outings, organise nights out. He never makes the effort of meeting my friends, but gets jealous when I'm out for a drink with the guys.

Apparently I put myself out there too much, which reflects badly on me. I also try to hard to impress, and I do so by flirting in a sexual way. Am I supposed to stay home all night, in burqha and a chastity belt?

Until Monday, we had not ventured further than 3 streets from his flat in more than a month. We finally get into town and only a few steps from the Tube station he accuses me of being patronising because I was happy. Lovely come down company, mate.

My head is so full of accusations and misunderstandings, inability to articulate my own defence, complete shock at the left of field comments that start with 'You always...'. Do I? Does it bother you? Why not say something before? Do you think that you are misreading things, over analysing?

I'm unhappy. That's an understatement, I'm this far from being downright miserable.

The only thing I'm sure of is New Years' resolutions are for the weak, flim-flam and self-obssessed. I am not changing who I am, what I do, what I listen to, what I like, and who I'm friends with to please him.

Maybe the 'relationship' needs euthanisia.