Swansea at home

I won a competition! On my birthday! I don’t know when the last time I won something was. Well, possibly a three a side football match on Hove Lawns last July. But anyway, this made me very excited. Seven years of squalor trying to meet A Load Of Bull copy deadlines and selling myself outside football stadia across the country has been worth it!

It’s all going to my head. I am now going to write reams and reams of irrepressible patronising shit and submit it to every known orifice of the online literary world. I am going to finish the writing I’ve been doing for years and it’s going to get published in the best selling book of all time. I will expose all the girls I write about for monies and the tabloids will rape them. I am going to be invited to dinner parties and banquets and I will sit saying nothing and people will look at me in awe thinking I’m creating an introverted masterpiece, not just being a boring cunt. I will no longer drink rum. I will drink scotch. People will value my opinion on scotch. I am going to make loads of money and buy a thousand crash cymbals. I am going to die at twenty-four attempting to play them all at once. They will collapse over my bass drum against my snare and tear into my throat. And that will be fair.



What actually happened is this:

The lovely people (well, they sound lovely, though having never met them one can never be sure they are actually people) at The Pygmy Giant have published a true story I wrote. It is here:

http://thepygmygiant.wordpress.com/

My birthday was quite eventful as ever. They always end up messy. Always. I drink too early, drink too much, succumb to people making me drink more “because it’s your birthday,” descend into a ridiculous emotional state and end up running away from everyone relentlessly. Another version of this happened last night. That is all you need to know. I certainly missed my usual birthday partner in crime, that's for sure. Happy Birthday sir.

Norwich and Watford Away

Quick quick quick quick quick. Before the Swans. Quick.

I went to Goa. I had a lovely time. One shouldn't have a lovely time in Goa. One should fall in love on ecstacy with a girl with pink eyes. One should live in neon and ultraviolet continuously with their arms in the air. One should fuck on the beach.

But I had a lovely time. I was not there at the right time for the above. Nor with the right people.

Nevertheless I had a lovely time. We drank a lot on the beach. The Arabian Sea washed against our feet. Goan trance hopped happily along continuously. The neon and multi colours gazed on, waiting for December. I wish I'd come in the 60s.

I had missed the sea. A lot. That noise, the washing, is something else, isn't it? And the Arabian Sea is a lot warmer than the good ol' Channel. The sunsets were beautiful and I saw some of the most amazing women I'd ever seen in all my life.

We got back into Diwali. I'm going to a little celebration tonight. It will be fun. Unlike this post. Sorry.

It's my birthday on Thursday. I've done that thing when you don't tell anyone and then it gets all awkard having to tell people so close. It's not really awkard. It's all in my head. It's always all in my head. It shouldn't be awkard. It will be awkward.

"I still, don't, understand. Bob Wilson, anchorman."

PS. It's official. I'm scared of white people in India. By that I mean white people I don't already know. I'm scared they'll talk at me. I'm scared they'll judge me for being a square on business as I'm judging them for being a square on business. I grow my beard and look away, anywhere, anything, and cross the road. I'm naked without it.

Coventry at home

I’m drunk.

Iknow why I am drunk. I am drunk because I have had too much drink. And have been drinking since 5pm. It’s been fun. I am very happy.

I am very happy because Wolves won again. I found this out at circa 12am. It is now 2:51am. I am extra happy because Freddy Eastwood didn’t score. He is a poo. To celebrate this I drank more rum which has now constricted my stomach a bit. I could not possibly drink anymore. Or eat possibly anymore. I nearly spewed just now. It was fun. I triumphjed!

At some point tonight I was in a restaurant on a balcony looking at stars and the moon. I was thinking if you people who read this were looking at these stars and moons. One defo not, I mean, you’re in canadia, right? But maybe you others were. Well probably not. But I’m missing you all a bit yeah? OK. A lot.

I am also very happy because I feel I am one of the house now in my house. This makes me happy.

I have two new roommates. One Swiss one Polish, one male, one female. They are both lovely and very different. But lovely.

My stomach keeps turning. I don’t want to puke because I am scared of puking and because Polaka cleaned the flat today. It hurts.

I am playing Johnny Foreigner. It reminds me of Birmingham and I miss it.

I am still drunk now. I am going to post this and wake up thinking what the fuck did I post and then read this and think ah it’s K really. Then I’m going to watch India cane Australia in the 2nd Test for the WHOLE day on my SOFA whilst finishing my new A Load Of Bull article. And it’s going to rock.

I am very happy. But I miss you all. That is the main from all of this.

“I seen the girls at your shows…”

International Break 2a

Wolves have not played for nearly two weeks. I don't feel quite so scared.

There are ants in my computer. I am scared that one day I will try and squish one on my screen and it will be inside my screen. And then they will all run up from the start button and swarm my desktop and laugh as one at the inevitability of it all.

The sad thing has happened. It saddens me immensley. You will guess it soon, when news breaks out from The Sun on your front pages, when Cameron uses it in his next poll diverting speech and when the FTSE drops accordingly. Excuses will be made and apologies given. Some, integral to the process, will deny the event ever happened, plodding on with new plans and new ideas whilst ignoring the very poison that infected in the first place.

For me, it begs the eternal question, why can't people just fucking get along?

I do realise the hypocrisy of this statement, seeing as I hate everyone.

In other news, I got new headphones today which made me very happy. They are the ones that actually penetrate your ears. And are very, wonderfully loud. The first thing I listened to was "Exploding Head Syndrome" which is a remix by 65daysofstatic of the four most recent Cure singles. They've stuck them all together and it's 21:26 minutes long and probably the best piece of music I've heard in a very long time. This shouldn't be taken as anything, though, for I am no music hoarder or sprintman; i.e. it takes me a long time to finish one album. So listen to someone else about it.

If not, the second thing I listened to was "Global" by the quite wonderful "Feedle." It's off his free to download "Go and get your head fucked" live EP - here - http://www.eckerecords.co.uk/ . I first heard Feedle on Huw Stephen's show a few light years ago and listened to his myspace tracks a hundred times but 'never got round to' buying his album. I'm a wanker. He now has new album. I should buy it but if anyone wants to send it to India for my birthday that would be grand. The final track off the EP, "Dogs," (a mega version of "Song for Dogs") samples Vapour Trail. That'll mean something to one of you maybe and maybe make you download it. The sample isn't great but the rest of the song IS.

:pause:squish:notinside:yet:

This is what happened on the internet today:

Sally had a haircut. Joe fixed his bike. Sam hates work. Fred is in Thailand woo baby. Ariel is swimming. Icarus is falling. Rachel had the best night of her life ever thanx guyzzzzxxx. Rebecca wants to give me a running account of her life every five seconds. Rebecca just ate a sandwich. Rebecca just cut her right toenail. Rebecca just sucked her boyfriend off. Rachel is hungoverrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

None of these things is true. Just fuck off though, yeah?

Now i'm listening to The Sundays - Can't Be Sure. It's astonishingly pretty.

Now I'm listening to The Only Ones - Another Girl Another Planet. Can anyone guess what list I'm listening to?

Of course, of course, you can't talk. Ha!

Well. I found out yesterday, or actually the night before, as I was having a most enjoyable evening at Kavana's 12th birthday party, with whiskey and lemonade in hand, that the pretty girl of the last two posts has got a boyfriend back home. I think that is maybe why I am writing this post. (But it is not the sad thing that has happened. That is sadder). This shook me somewhat, as it was quite a refreshing crush I had got going.

The pain was lessened considerably because before this I was informed she had been wearing a necklace of butt**s that day!!!! Sweet lord!

But on the other hand she was pretty and not a nutcase and very sweet.

Back to square one. Hopefully they won't invade again.

"ఐ hఅటే ది వే వే ఎక్ష్పెక్త్ తో ఫెయిల్

అండ్ తెన్ వే ఫెయిల్

అండ్ తెన్ వే గెట్ బిత్తెర్ బెకాఉసే వే'వె ఫెల్డ్

...

maybe all of this has got nothing to do with anything

ఫర్ అ స్ప్రింగ్బోర్డు, అండ్ అ పైర్ అఫ్ షార్ట్స్, అండ్ అ ప్లైన్ వైట్ త షర్టు, అండ్ అ పెర్ఫెచ్త్ బక్ఫ్లిప్. ఐ'ద గివె ఇట్ అల్ ఫర్ తాత"

International Break # 2

Something sad is about to happen. I cannot do anything to stop it. Not this time. I don’t think it will be quite the same.



In other news, gentle reader, we visited the pilgrim town of Srisailam over the weekend and it was lovely. We hired out a minibus which was actually an elongated four by four, and a driver who was actually a driver. We left Hyderabad at about 12:30AM after some whiskey and rum as it was to take six hours plus.

By some stroke of luck, or whatever, I ended up on the front seat next to the aforementioned pretty girl. I got to know her a bit better and it turns out she is a very sweet as well as pretty girl. We laughed a bit and talked some more and she went to sleep at some point long before I (for, as I will mention later, I was listening to something special, but don’t fear, after she went to sleep). At some point she rested her head on my shoulder, involuntarily of course, but it was quite cute in a not meaning anything ever way.

I don’t think anything will ever happen.

After three hours maybe we suffered a puncture in a tyre in the middle of NOWHERE. We had to wait half an hour for the next car, who were thankfully very helpful with new tyre. Phew. It was that in the middle of nowhere that we saw its lights coming for fifteen minutes. We gazed at the stars (seriously, you have never seen so many) and drank more whiskey and rum. Bizarrely, five local looking people were just sitting in the road 50 yards previous, talking. I guess they are still there now.

On our way again, me listening to the 1996 Festive Fifty with guidance from the great man himself, as the others drifted off to sleep. With the lack of light I could not tell the tracks until he told me as they ended. As such, the 23:16 of Orbital’s Out There Somewhere (#47) spun me out a reasonable degree. I was out there, somewhere, indeed.

Then we reached a Checkpost. It turns out there’s a Tiger Reserve in between Hyderabad and Srisailam that one isn’t allowed to pass through between 21:00 and 6:00. We got there at about 4:30. Quite a few cars, trucks and lorries were all waiting with people everywhere, on this dusty road in the dark in the middle of Andhra Pradesh. There were about six cafes on the left which I imagine must ALWAYS be open, serving Chi (wonderful sugary Indian tea) and other assortments. Hindu music twisted and screeched away. It was great.

The clever people slept. A friend and I finished the rum and whiskey and thought we were very brave when we ventured 10 metres into the Tiger reserve in the dark. We drank two cups of chi and woke some people up. The sun rose. The barrier rose. We went on our way.

At Srisailam we saw many temples and a huge dam and gorgeous landscape and smuggled some alcohol into the holy town, which probably means we’re all going to some kind of Hindu hell.

She didn’t sit next to me on the way home.

Reading at home. Swansea away.

Two in one. That's right. But we fucking LOST them BOTH.

The wolves are losing, the wolves are losing. It’s all falling apart. They are not so invincible. I am not so invincible. The wolves are losing.

Today we painted a school and I created a universe and met a pretty girl.

Yesterday I watched Yuvraj Singh hit two sixes against Australia.

I can’t find my camera lead. I’m going to find a camera lead.




Are you still reading this?! Hahahahahahahahaha.

I must email my parents.

Sometimes I spend a long time in the shower thinking. I’m not saying other people don’t, like I’m somehow superior and intellectual because of this, because we all know these things are not true. But sometimes I catch myself, hot water running down my arse, perhaps nonchalantly scratching an orifice, just gazing into the corner panelling, and find it a bit strange. With the sudden snap out of mind-autopilot sometimes I forget if I’ve washed my hair or not, or washed at all, and walk out with soap everywhere. And worst of all I usually forget what I was thinking about. Some girl, I suppose.