I've got a disease, an English disease!

What've you put in that syringe?

What have you really said to him?

(inside my head by radiohead)

I've been feeling ill and sorry for myself all day. It has something to do with the whole outside catering thing with the Sportsman from 5 to half 11 on Saturday, then going into town til four in the morning the day after, then standing behind a bar surrounded by alcohol whilst hungover for six hours on Sunday. Maybe. I got out of bed at about half two today, and I've probably taken too many paracetamol, and have watched the first half of the Studio Ghibli film Princess Mononoke, which so far is better than Tales Of Earthsea, which was a pile of crap.

I really, really want to be able to play the acoustic guitar. Just chords, mind. I'll save up for some lessons or something. Seeing as though Princess Mononoke is a Miramax film, I got a real craving to watch Kill Bill again, so I'm getting that now. I wouldn't mind seeing it in high def with a surround sound system, really.

Oh, that reminds me. Although I said I would never mention Poskett again, it's proving impossible. This is my own fault, I should have remembered that the internet is my enemy. I offered to give him £1100 for the Mac he bought, which is the step up from mine. Wait. I'll explain this. With his work, he got a £200 discount from Apple, thus paying £1300 (how much I paid for this) for a Macbook Pro worth £1500. I offered him £1100 for it, but, after agreeing to sell it to me, said he sold it to someone for £1300 (which, being the same price he'd paid for it, I couldn't have beaten, really [although it turns out I did end up paying £1300 for this]). By searching his username on eBay (pockych - oh, and I know his password. Luckily for him, I'm not feeling that angry quite yet. "Chris," his mum asks, "what is this.. German.. magazine.. you've ordered?"), I found that he'd not only sold it to someone he's never met, but for £1100. Bastard. Fucking bastard. Oh well. Comment to make me feel better. Now.

On a lighter note, this blog is genuinely interesting and funny:

Nate Fitzgerald: One Isolated Man's Journey

blame it on the satellites

oh cry cry cry get over yourself

I might, and you might. But neither of us will.

Bah. I'm a drunken mess, again. I got myself in a right state, after seeing that guy I'm not meant to be mentioning, went to Concrete with a few friends, they were all couples and/or getting with someone! I felt lonely and emo. I found a message in my drafts I can't quite remember writing: I miss you and I know you miss me. Luckily for me in the morning I don't have your number anymore. Yes. Pfft, that is so lame. I think I've just rediscovered Modest Mouse. On the way home, I heard Lives, The Good Times Are Killing Me, Might, and Karma's Payment.

There was a guy in Concrete who was alright looking, and getting a bit close. I came to the conclusion that he was just drunk and straight, like every other bloody person in the building. I feel so bloody lonely. Ridiculous. Although, it's not like I'm expecting to meet anyone in this place. I'm just annoyed because I saw Poskett.

Seriously though, can I go a single blog post without mentioning something to do with my sexuality? It's a joke.

I'm the next act, waiting in the wings.

Abi and myself have decided, since today, that we're going to do some miserable street theatre over Christmas. Not sure how we decided, but we did a test in town today: I laid down in an alley, we waited for some people to walk past. Abi stole my shoes and ran away. The people got angry, two tried to wake me up, one chased Abi. I yawned, stretched, and got up, ignoring the two people talking to me, and hurriedly walked, in socks, to where I'd arranged to meet Abi, who was waiting with my shoes. Possibly the most exciting thing I've done in quite a while.

We have a few ideas of what to do over Christmas, my favourite being:

Abi is kneeling down, paying great attention to the line she is drawing with a white piece of chalk. I am kneeling down a couple of meters behind her, furiously scrubbing away the chalk line with a sponge. This will go on for as long as we want. We'll try and get "audience members" to stand and watch us, and talk loudly about the dreary, meaninglessness of the whole situation. Something about humanity or artistic worth, you get the idea. I think I want this to be filmed, it's quite exciting. We'll be muttering something under our breath while we do this. Hopefully passers-by will wonder for a second what the hell is going on. Maybe they'll, hopefully, think. Maybe they'll think, "bloody students", and carry on. Either way, we win. Or get arrested.

I just applied for a job in a gay bar.

Carlisle's becoming very liberal all of a sudden. My CV has never made me sound so camp: my interests are media production, playing bass guitar, and acting. I tried to give it a personal touch, said something about being "thrilled at the prospect of a gay-friendly bar opening in Carlisle." Oh well. Either it'll work or it won't. I had to go through some sauna website to get to the online application form. I've just reread the CV and it feels way too informal. We'll see.

I've found that not being with Poskett (and this is the last time I'l ever mention him, don't worry) is a lot easier today than it was yesterday. Of course, I'm still not doing very much, but it's getting better. I knew it would. I bumped into his friend Stuart today, and it made me think, if he's friends with someone like that, then I'm lucky to have got away.

I'm also feeling sorry with myself for having some sort of writing block over the last few weeks (I mean, you wouldn't think writing in this whole stream-of-consciousness thing is hard, would you?), but I'm hoping to get back up with the whole one post a day thing I've always been trying to go for. I'm just starting to find myself that slight bit less interesting.

Oh, me and Tom recorded a song for his friend Dave. I'll try and make some sort of video for it, and put that on YouTube. Technology these days.

I'm enjoying a song called No More Shoes by Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks, try it.

Movin' on up

lol.

Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone by Neutral Milk Hotel

There are beads that wrap around your knees
That crackle into the dark
Like a walk in the park, like a hole in your head
Like the feeling you get when you realize you're dead
This time we ride rollercoasters into the ocean
We feel no emotion as we spiral down to the world
And I guess it's worth your time
Because there's some lives you live
And some you leave behind
It gets hard to explain
The gardenhead knows my name

Leave me alone, for you know this isn't the first time
In fact, this is twice in a row
That the angels have slipped through our landslide
And filled up our garden with snow
And I don't wish to taste of your insides
Or to call out your name through my phone
For the glory boys at your bedside will love you
As long as you're something to love

Follow me through a city of frost-covered angels
I swear I have nothing to prove
I just want to dance in your tangles
To give me some reason to move
But to take on the world at all angles
Requires a strength I can't use
So I'll meet you up high in your anger
Of all that is hoping and waiting for you

oh, damn it.

This blog doesn't look anywhere near as good in Safari as it did in Firefox. My hard drive isn't compatible with both Windows and Mac either. So no films, no music. Damn.
Otherwise, so far this Mac is great. The trackpad is a bit difficult to use at the moment, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. I hope the keyboard dims when you watch a DVD or something.

Bloody Poskett. He's not worth the hassle anyway.

I'm going to Bristol to see John tomorrow. The ticket cost me £78 with a young person's railcard, which cost £25. Still, should be a good night.
I'm going to try to do less of the whiny personal stuff. Actually, why did I even think that? Of course I'm going to keep doing the whiny personal stuff.

The only thing about not entertaining Chris any more is that he has a ticket for me to go and see Modest Mouse with him. I haven't paid him, and I don't think he expected me to, but I think I'll just buy a ticket for Glasgow or something instead. I'll see if he tries to get in touch with me or something. He never does. I love how soft this keyboard feels, it's great. I wonder if they do VLC for Mac.

I've seen Lawson, and he says he'd be happy to podcast with me. I think after I buy all the equipment and after this night in Bristol I will have a whole £100 pounds left, which really isn't that bad. I saw the Sportsman today and they said I can pretty much have a lot of hours until after Christmas. My dad wants me to go back and work with him in January and February anyway.

Lots of people have told me, since I've come back to Carlisle, that I should have nothing more to do with Chris anyway. oh, I don't know.

the whale song

I've bought myself a Mac. Well, joint Christmas present thing from my parents. I gave them €1230 (all my wages since moving here), they paid the rest for a £1300 Macbook Pro. Not bad really. I can't remember how much I have in my bank account in the UK. Hopefully around £200 but it could be quite a bit less. Oh well. Hopefully I'm getting my job in the Sportsman back, so that'll be some money coming in. I have some projects lined up.

• Film: With Ben, and probably Tom and other interested people. There's a plot idea. I'm hoping to act. Hopefully, we'll pick a strong scene, and focus on that. From the strength of that scene, we can expand it into a full film. That's how I'd work, anyway. Tom also talked about a series of short films (VIDEO PODCAST!) based on driving lessons. Comedy, easy. I reckon, any decent ideas can be turned into short films or otherwise, and I just have to motivate myself and others (and rent equipment, money) to get on with it. The first stuff we make will not be amazing quality. I understand that. Improvement comes with practice. That's fine with me, I want the experience, the portfolio stuff, and the fun.
  

• Podcast: Chris Lawson is interested in this sort of thing. After listening non-stop to Simply Syndicated, I am inspired. It is that easy. Now I have my Mac (well, monday), I need to splash out on Amazon and buy a mic stand, microphone and mixer. And get everyone else involved in this to buy microphones as well. (See, this is all money. Again.) I'm hoping to get as many people as I can on board with this, although keep it down to maybe just two people per episode. There are always interesting topics to talk about. How shit The Plan is, or how we got into listening to decent music.
  

• Music: I mentioned to Tom that I want to start a band with him. Hope that works out, although it's likely we'll just clash a bit. He might be into experimental stuff. We'll see.

This post is called The Whale Song because of this bassline:(everyone needs to find a way out)

Frantic Ruined My Life (on the end of the world)

smiling but lifeless
sweat and smoke tangled in their hair
the word was, "believe"
we didn't.

in the future, they'll see we had no choice.
"you could have done something"
you... nobody tells you what to do
same as
no
nevermind


"What I'm really, really trying to say, what I'm really trying to get across to you here is that, that none of this is certain in any way. Really. Is it? No. Why can't you just understand that?"
I've spent a decent part of my life staring at a computer screen, waiting for a change. Four years ago, it happened. You can't see it now. That's the way life, the internet, the government whatever works, and it's brilliant. Not in a good way, of course. People died. Communities were destroyed. And, this isn't from official sources. No, the BBC or CNN or whatever censored it all. Thousands of photos, videos and blogs ( and they're gone now, of course) told us the horrors committed by this country in the name of purity. The year is 2016, and Frantic ruined my life.


"No, he wasn't political in any way, really. He was a good boy. Never really stepped out of line. I don't know why it happened the way it did. I'm sorry." - excerpt from Memories Of The Victim, by Joel Hammersmith

can't stop feeling no i won't stop feeling

I'm moving back to Carlisle. Somehow I've only just realised that ctrl+backspace deletes words at a time, that's useful. iTunes fucked up with my entire music library, so I've had to add it all again and all the ID3 tags are also fucked so I have to rename and add artwork to 18GB worth of music. Damn technology.
Oh, and I'm moving back to Carlisle. Number of reasons. There's not much oppurtunity here for me apart from that political singer guy which probably wouldn't have worked, and speaking French. Which I've pretty much proved to myself I can do.
I want to act. I want to sort my uni application. I want to work. I miss Chris. I miss being comfortable. I miss good food. Pretty much, I can't find work here. I haven't exactly tried hard, and I've been here less than two weeks, but I'm fed up. Montpellier is a brilliant place, and I'd love to move back here sometime, but maybe with someone I know. It's not that I'm incapable of living alone, it's just difficult. Hopefully I can get some of my old job back. Hopefully start writing or acting or something. I'll try and get more involved. I'll try and get some of my old friends back, I left most of the people I know without saying bye. I need to find a band.

Those were the days.

feel no emotion as we spiral down

It gets hard to explain: the Gardenhead knows my name.
I tried to embed some music by David Gael (French band guy) here but can't figure it out.

Elly won't mind me posting this. Can't be bothered editing it right now either. Read if you can be bothered.
fuck it that wasn't worth posting
what nevermind

this is what, the 5th time I've edited this post.
I need to get on with something.
Some project.
I'm gonna go out and buy writing paper and some pens and stuff and write a fucking screenplay.

or a novel or play or something.
I'll buy a small notebook and a large one. Large one being for ideas.




So, I went out and couldn't find a single shop that sold them. What the hell is wrong with this city? I couldn't possibly write on my computer, oh wait.

still got your words and you've got your friends

Pretty much straight after my last post, I lent back in my chair, crushing the wire for my laptop charger. My new charger arrived yesterday, and by that time I was feeling entirely too demotivated to write on here. Motivation's back. I read a blog before that I saw linked through a comment on an article about Twitter on The Guardian's website and remembered I have a blog myself.
I've thought of hundreds (exaggeration right there) of Blog titles or whatever. No, wait. Subjects. Subjects to write about. But I've forgotten most of them. I'll try.
I'm still trying to find a job here. I haven't been entirely pro active about the whole thing, I've only given about three CVs out. Ah, yes: on Friday I saw a post online for some restaurant "Antidot" looking for workers. I found the address, looked at a map, but was unable to print it out, so tried to memorise it. I had to take a tram, which I thought would get me at least half way there. It didn't. I got lost. I asked someone for help. He couldn't understand me. I ended up walking the four or five miles to the edge of Montpellier to find some (quite trendy) bloody restaurant on an industrial estate. They'd already found someone, of course. Then I had to walk back.
We had a party that night which was too full of drugs and smoke.
I was hungover the next morning. Did nothing.
We had another, smaller gathering that night, which I enjoyed a lot more. There were only about ten of us this time, and I managed to talk to almost everyone.
The next day (I'm aware this is being written in a poor fashion) we sat in and watched films and stuff. Requiem for a Dream. I'd been putting off watching it, don't know why. I was very, very skeptical in the beginning but it turned out to be completely amazing, really. I was rather taken aback. The girls in this house like watching The Vampire Diaries, a shit American serialised drama about, guess, vampires.

Today, Janou sort of told me (oh and my British dictionary plugin isn't working. great.) that I need to get my act together and go out and get a job. In less words than that, obviously. She also told me that she's got a friend looking to co-rent an appartment with someone. If I had money (I have around €1300, which I shouldn't just go and spent), I'd be entirely up for it. I'm probably still going to go for it, if I can go and sign on or something. Need a job.
Janou told me to sign up for Couch Surfers (a [dodgy] 'non-profit' organisation which supports backpackers) and I did. I found an post on the Montpellier board for two guys who want a bassist and drummer
also fuck it it's hard thinking in english this much
so I called the guy before, David Gael. It was actually much easier to call him then I'd imagined it would be, and it seemed he spoke English. He writes in French, as a singer and acoustic guitarist. I think there's another guy playing acoustic in his band as well, and he says he likes Radiohead, although they don't play anything like Radiohead, which is fine, because The Turks loved Radiohead, but we never did anything like them at all. The advert had been up for five days and I don't think anyone had replied yet. This sounds promising. I'm going to meet him in.. one hour. Exciting stuff. I'll try and take him for a drink or something instead of merely picking a CD up off him. I hope he's somewhere close to my age, etc. Actually that shouldn't matter. Oh well.

Music in France is different to music in the UK. Not sure why.
Instead of A, B, C, D, E, F, G, they have la, si, ... and sol is G. I don't get it. Hopefully these guys can teach me a bit.

I'm starting to feel (probably imaginary) tension in this house after a week of living here mostly because to everyone here I seem to just sit in all the time. I can't go and get more CVs printed off yet because I have no USB stick, damn it. Also I'd rather just be on holiday and live cheaply and not spend money. As long as I have internet, food, music and sleep (all of which I can afford), I'll be happy here. Difficult to please yourself and not care about others when you're imposing on others. Not imposing, but. This post is long.
So yeah, anyway. The lyrics in the title come from The World At Large by Modest Mouse, from Good News For People Who Love Bad News, and mean something to me how American is this. Well anyway, even though I do no writing (OH YEAH REMIND ME TO WRITE), barely read, and whatever, I've always got my words and hopefully, got my friends. "still" is a very important word also.

Another idea I had was to write a screenplay (right? or script whatever) called Guilt, or How Frantic Changed My Life. I'm not sure where the guilt comes in yet, nor any ideas about characters or anything (in fact a play would be better), but it comes from my mother drunkenly shouting at me "you're a stupid fucking twat!" while she wanted to watch Frantic (old Harrison Ford film in Paris) one night a few weeks ago. It being set in France, and my being a foreigner in France, I could watch this film and draw parallels between my (ha, my) character and Harrison Ford's character in that film. Surely you don't need right from whatever film company to write that script. Anyway, it would all be fictional but stem from that. Sound good? I'd hope so.

Also, one of the girls who lives here got married to some guy last Friday, who's staying here. I don't think I like him. Or her. I don't know. It just feels tense.

I've just moved out for the first, no, second (no, third), time and already I want to move out. I guess I'll never stay fixed to one place. Also how do I make it look like I've been active all day when Janou gets back from uni? I don't think I can. Oh well. I'll pounce and tell her I'm meeting someone at six. That'll impress her, hopefully. (although, I still haven't made the effort to get a job. oh well.)

Thanks for reading.