Bed or Batman?

So, because I'm shattered, I'm in a bit of a quandry. Cattenberg Battenberg is out tonight, I've got the house to myself. I'm looking forward to when this is a full time arrangement, though since the split we're on significantly better terms. It's a bit like living in a slightly awkward house share. All the drama is gone. It's actually quite nice to be friends again, and not have all that other stuff hanging over our heads, but I think we're both itching to get out from the same roof regardless. We don't occupy the same space as each other well.

So, the quandry. I've just watched Avengers Assemble, and I kind of want to stay up and watch The Dark Knight, so I can watch The Dark Knight Rises sometime in the week. Also, Avengers Assemble was a little disappointing, and I want to see something that will please me more. But, I'm so very very very tired. I have an exam on Tuesday, I'm horribly unprepared, and I want to go to a gig tomorrow night...

The end of an era

Oh man. OH MAN. Man alive, I'm shattered. Last night was the last ever Underachievers Please Try Harder, a legendary part of the Manchester music and club scenes for the past five years. FIVE YEARS. During that time it has built an incredibly loyal following, with my friend Phill describing it as the "only club [he's] ever loved", and that loyal following showed up in droves last night, for possibly the greatest night I've ever been to. Surrounded friends and likeminded individuals, we all celebrated a night that has been such a big part of out lives. Advertised until 4am, it was 4:30 by the time the music finally stopped, and we wandered slightly lost into the morning and disappeared into the dawn.

It was a wonderful night, not marred by the fact that Philly broke his arm, or that I discovered that boys bond by lying about who they've slept with. If it weren't mental, it'd almost be quite flattering that someone thinks it's worth pretending that happened! Friends got together, much dancing was had, much drinking was done. Secrets shared, friendships celebrated, this wasn't the farewell of a clubnight, this was a group of people who have loved something sharing that love one more time. And sharing a love of each other that can never be found in the anonymous pits of hell that the uninitiated call Manchester nightlife, like Factory or Fifth Avenue. There was joy last night, so much joy, every single song chosen to please. And man, it was beautiful.

Corky, Timbretone, Emmythegreater, Hollanthropist, The Sizest, Lespam, Phill, and many others (I'm going to have to give more of my friends pseudonyms) were out in force, and I'm so glad I spent last night with you all.

Blog's gone GREY.

Also, I got 65% in my Viva assessment, despite no preparation to speak of. I rule.

They call it a Viva. But I'm in my first year, it's really not that snazzy. It's a video-and-written-and-interview assessment of my interactional skills in a pseudo-clinical set up.

YEAH! Guess what, I'm awesome, I am!

Love it when people tell you things that really make your day. Technically this is a bit of a secret, so I can't tell you, but I had a nice piece of news last night about something I'm good at, something for which I have a talent, and something at which it turns out other people think I have a bit of a talent for as well.

It's nice when your worth can be measured against your ability, as opposed to whether or not other people view you as some kind of piece of ass. I say this mostly as someone who stopped being considered as such years ago, and is thus bitter and twisted. Or something. If only. To not be subject to all that head mess anymore is rather freeing. My ego's never really been up to it, so to be no longer part of it is very nice indeed. Now the Woodcat is just the Woodcat. And she's a nice cat.

How many weeks of Johnny Wander have I missed?

Probably about a year. When you have a lot of revision to do is always the time you discover such things. Procrastination is a blessing and a curse. I'm going to go and make another one of these. Which is why I love Johnny Wander. Start from the beginning. It's totally worth it.

I miss sleeping

Seriously, I do. It's too late to play with any of my new toys (guitar, accordion) without rudely disturbing Kittencat or the neighbours and I'm too sleepy to focus on my work. Kiss, Kiss,Bang, Bang is on ITV2+1. I saw this at the cinema with the Big Ex in 2005. I remember it being quite a good film. Shane Black? Shane Black. And new Iron Man film, out in the next few days. Also Shane Black. Moderately curious what he'll bring to it, though of course I was always seeing it anyway. Love Marvel. Really really do. And explosions. Really love films with explosions. Robert Downey Jr has just killed a guy in a white suit. Val Kilmer seems pissed.

Wonder if anyone will want to go see Iron Man with me. Do you want to go and see Iron Man with me? Just a thought.

I don't think I'm ever going to sleep again.

Purloined G Plan coffee tables and electric guitars

The woodcat had a lovely afternoon today with her brother, drinking coffee, talking shite, and being patiently shown chords on a beautiful Ibanez while the Woodcat got to play with a sexy sexy white Gibson Firebird! Hellishly cool. Woodcat can't play, but she's making a start at learning with her acoustic, and Woodcat's brother has just made that a heck more interesting by donating a pretty Jim Reed electric into the mix on permanent loan. So to say I'm a bit excited is probably an understatement, although progress will be slow as my fingers are still at the stage where strings tear them up pretty quickly. But YAY!!! And seriously, Firebird! My brother is awesome.

I will update with a picture of my steals a little later, but this is the coffee table I stole! Isn't it sexy? Mine needs a little work with some varnish etc, but pretty damned awesome nonetheless!

Update with photos!

Forgive the rant

I'm tired. I've barely slept in weeks. Cattenburg Battenburg is being marvellous, and looking after the Kittencat while I study for my exams, but I'm generally awake when I try to sleep, and then exhausted when I try to work.
Bleurgh. On the bright side, University is aware of my current lack of mental fortitude, and are currently assessing whether it matters a jot in relation to my assessments. Hopefully I shan't need it to. But I'm not on the best form right now. My little green pills of good are stopping the headaches, but the nausea still prevails, and sleep is still not my friend. I'm not sure what I did to offend, but I wish we could make up.

About as foxy as roadkill

Recently, people have been trying to be nice, by telling the Woodcat that she is pretty. It feels weird. There may be some truth to their lies, at points my face has more favourable turns than others, but right now I don't feel pretty. And if I don't feel pretty, I can't look it. And I don't really want to look it. It is quite bizarre that people think all the problems in the world will be solved by the idea that boys will find you attractive and want to try and get in your knickers. It feels weird. A couple of times in the last few months I've been hit on by boys wearing a sturdy pair of beer goggles, and it's really irrelevant to me. I don't want it. I don't know how to respond to it anymore, and apart from possibly once, haven't felt a glimmer of anything towards anyone. Generally it goes like this. Boy hits on me. I think they're being friendly. It gets awkward. I apologise profusely, and we dance. But even if I were that way inclined, it would go horribly wrong. Even if they are right, if my face or personality or whatthefucksoever has some vestige of pretty about it, my body does not. So curiosity might lead to that, but only the once. And then that would be hella awkward. Because no one wants to tell you that your body is as bad as mine is. So I don't want to be pretty. It's false advertising. And my ego is battered and bruised and a little world weary right now. And I don't fucking need it.

Where upon the exChapcat picks his new label

And shall henceforth be known as Mondrian Battenburg.

And yesterday really was ACCORDION DAY!!!

I'm sorry I didn't update right as it happened, I was too excited! The accordion is purple, and the lovely Foxbert brought it round at 6:30 yesterday evening, and stayed and played with me and Kittencat and the exChapcat for an hour or so. Kittencat is excited by the accordion, and smitten with Foxbert, and was busy telling her things, and giving her kisses when she left.

It's PURPLE!!! How awesome is that? I shall get around to taking some proper pictures and uploading them later, but for now I wanted to give you a brief looksee at the lovely I have acquired. But later, before or after the drowned cat impression commences, I shall endeavour to provide you with a better look at my new pretty.

Burned

Surprisingly relevant, prophetic even, considering how old this must be. Maybe 2006?

An island, I exist on my own. Complete within myself. I alone hold the key to my happiness. I have need of no one, and no one needs me. As long as it's fun is how long things should last. When the ship is sinking, don't waste time bailing out water. Jump overboard and swim. We stick things out too long, caring too much. Masochistic tendencies drive us to based our lives around trying to please other people, to try to be there for them, forgetting to please ourselves. Forgetting to be there for ourselves. Pleasing nobody. Looking after everyone else, we stand neglected by all.

Twice burned, thrice shy. Roll with the punches, move fast, get out.

Try it, you might like it

I'm trying to tidy up a madly disorganised external hard drive, and I'm finding all sorts of crazy filing messes. A copy of X-Men, albums all over the place, helpfully lurking in files labelled with obvious labels like "New Folder". And I'm finding little notes, such as this one. Bit wanky, but the sentiment is good. And I still do bad things regularly, so this is no less poignant now than it ever was.

Sometimes I think that for people to become enlightened it is necessary for them to be broken at least once. For only in the agony of my soul have I learned not to judge people by their actions. Only in the depths of despair have I learnt the truth and beauty that exists in the simplicity of the sunlight streaming through a cloudy sky. Only in the scars of my heart and the scars of my skin have I discovered that lines, as on a map, all lead somewhere new. I have learnt about my capacity to hurt and be hurt, and I have learnt that blame does not lessen the blow. I have learnt that revenge is not sweet, and that surprises are not always welcome. I have surrendered to a lack of control and allowed circumstance to define the moment. I have lived by the teachings of that inaugural genius Dr Pepper, or at least by the teachings of the ad man who came up with the slogans 'Try it, you might like it' and 'What's the worst that can happen?' I have done bad things, and learnt not to feel badly about it. I have learnt not to judge myself.

Bleurgh

In the light of the morning, I realise I'm not depressed after all. No more than I thought I was previously, at least. It's just that I'm not used to being quite so tired anymore as I am at present, and I'd forgotten quite how bad it makes you feel. And so there was a binge. Yes, dear confessor, there was a binge. It was epic in it's vastness, and truly disgusting. But it's done, and it didn't help with the tiredness, because it never did. Thankfully, I'm old. And I've been here before. So. Rather than flounder in a desolate spiral for a few months before doing the sensible thing, I'm planning swimming into my revision timetable. Because swimming sharpens my mind, and makes me happier. If I recall correctly, it sharpens your body also, but aside from a fitness level that's irrelevant. And possibly from a fitting in my clothes better perspective. Okay, so it's not totally irrelevant.

So I'll be at the aquatic centre in Manchester bright and early tomorrow morning. And that makes me smile.

I think I must be depressed

Because I just ate the most disgusting amount of pasta and pesto and cheese. Food is one of the least obvious, but most effective methods of self harm I've ever seen. And the most tricky, because you cannot simply give it up.

I should probably have mentioned this sooner but get your butts to The Bay Horse pronto!

If you're in Manchester you should get your butts to The Bay Horse for this gig. It's going to be lots of loud black metal awesomeness, and my friend Danny's band Wode are playing.

I can't go, because I have work to do and a hangover. But you totally should.

And today is ACCORDION DAY!!!

The lovely Foxbert will be dropping by later, for tea, and chats and to gift me an accordion! She is a wonderful woman.

Hardwood Pews

Justin Ringle, weirdly pretty Justin Ringle with your slight baldiness, and sticky out ears, and infinitely pretty smile, your words make lots of sense today. Maybe. Maybe not the sense you gave them. Maybe the sense I give them is different.




Stalling, stalling, the hardwood of pews is calling. We want this news. Lovely ladies make pretty babies, it's true. That woman's not you. Take your body and clothes to places he won't go. Your life as you know is hopeless, it'll happen too slow. Oh, she's tricked, she was trapped. Her body was lacking white and red, those hues lost in bed. Oh, they would speak language exacting. Oh, they would lay, parts practicing. And through it all he won't call. Lovely ladies take your beauty to your grave.

*************************************************************

I went dancing last night, in a ridiculous gold dress. My lovely friend Phill told me lies about me looking pretty, because he is lovely, and recognises my ego is shot to shit and I have the self esteem of an unattractively speckled newt. We all danced, at the second to last Underachievers ever, and for a time we danced with one of Corky's favourite bands, Epic45, who we saw earlier in the evening at the Night & Day. I met a lady called Elaine who's in a plethora of bands, and my gold dress got invited back stage at the Night & Day for free beer. But downstairs in the Night & Day smells of wee, and there was dancing to be had, and merriment to be made. I will miss Underachievers when it is gone.

And one more thing to make this Tuesday complete

My lovely friend Foxbert is giving me an ACCORDION!!! Now I don't know how to play the accordion, and as a small child I once emptied a pub with the attempt. But I'm really excited to learn how.

Accordions are cool.

Peep show at Cat Lady Towers

For the last couple of mornings, Kittencat hasn't only wandered into the bathroom while I'm in the shower, she's been bringing a chair and sitting down to watch, with a drink and a snack.

Any dignity I had left is officially gone.

Man alive I'm tired today

And I want to be at this event at Kraak in the Northern Quarter. I think a lot of noise would sooth my tired skull.

Instead, I am wrestling my tired brain into doing some work. I have a lot to do, and alas the Kittencat decided that my late night at the library last night had to end prematurely because she had a dream or something that exChapcatbutstillverymuchKittencat'sFathercat (I'm working on labels) was unable to solve (according to the intractable Kittencat). So I arrive home, in the knowledge I need some sleep before Sunday's stint in the library anyway, only to find that Kittencat had different ideas. So I have been up all night, subject to the gleeful adoration of Kittencat, and the perpetual "I will give you a kiss", "I will give you cuddles", "I ruv you", "You came back", "Daddy's gone to work", "I will give you a kiss", "I will give you cuddles", until about 6:15 this morning, when she announced that it was time to get up and play. Bloody marvellous.

Oh well, on with the show. I'm quite a way through, but my progress is slower than I'd like today, despite the lovely green pills that have acted in lieu of a sympathetic ear to calm my mind and regulate my existence once more.

Ghosts of the Great Highway on repeat

I am having a pretty productive day in the All Saints Library (4th floor, if you want to bring me dinner, I'm thinking savoury, light?), though I must confess to just having misused the purpose of the uni computers by having an impromptu Doctor Who break, with the excuse of having remembered such a distraction it's best to get it out of the way. Now though, I am putting Ghosts of the Great Highway back on it's peaceful loop, and getting on with my work.

You know how sometimes music belongs intrinsically with people or things in your memory? For example OMC's How Bizarre will forever belong to Louise, formerly of the old Chorlton Pottery, though I lost touch with her years ago, and would have no idea how to contact her. Turning American, by The Wildhearts, is forever teenage angst and crushes on beautiful boys with long, long, long black hair. And Sun Kil Moon's Ghosts of the Great Highway, the entirety of it, belongs to a boy, a boy where there was always a glimmer, and never a chance.

Library weekend

I'm mostly at the library this weekend, with shorn hair, and a jumper my mother says is particularly unflattering. I like it. She's right, but sometimes a garments ability to make you look slimmer or more marvellous in some way is not the reason you want to wear it. Sometimes, you just want to wear bright bright stripes.

I look around, and the guy who's been surfing facebook since he logged on now has open a document called "Finite Extract Theory", so I guess I'd better get back to work.

Fuzzy Lights at the Castle

Is what I went to see, and where I went to see it tonight. Ex-chapcat, who has become, well the ex-chapcat, looked after the Kittencat in sterling fashion, and I met the lovely Paddington for a beer, for it has been an age prior to the gig. A beer turned into having another at the Castle before I gigged off, and then Paddington knew the chaps in Walton Hesse, who added more persuasion than I was able, and Paddington stayed. Walton Hesse are a Manchester based band, and place themselves under the Americana spectrum of sounds like. They were good. I'm not entirely sure if they were memorable, it was a solid enough performance, but it didn't whisk me off my feet. Fuzzy Lights on the other hand... I feel thoroughly wooed. That was a truly beautiful set. Paddington said before they began he'd stay for maybe a song or two, but at the end of the set he stood there still, looking slightly shiny happy, as slightly magical music is wont to make you. They released a new album in February, I think it's time you bought it.