Louise Post feels my pain

Disconnected, it's the way that I want it to be,
The Cult Electric is my favorite record of the week
'cause I'm not feeling sweet.

But I can't say that when everyone is so judgmental.
And I can't play back all the times when you were gentle
'cause even you can't be true.

It's astounding what love can do to a city;
Laurel Canyon was the best place for you and me to be.
I closed the curtains and I dreamed a dream of domesticity:
what a freak you made of me.

Now I'm on Zoloft because you told me I was crazy;
and I won't jump cause now I know you'd never catch me;
and I can't leave you because you swore you'd never let me,
but even you talk shit too.

It's January, when I jumped the fence of your backyard;
finish the fairy tale that you weren't drunk enough to start.
It's kind of scary when your lover leaves you for a movie star -
But I'm still in the dark.

But you have trained to watch my back and drop my standards;
and you have shamed me since the first time you were with her;
and you cant make me love your band or buy your records,
'cause you have tainted my respect for your adventures.

And you will never have the chance to trace my features,
and you will never make me feel like such a loser,
and you can have the past 'cause I'm in love with the future,

I'm in love with the future.

lol

'Let us understand: North Vietnam cannot defeat or humiliate the United States. Only Americans can do that.'
Richard M. Nixon, 1969

Your city lies in dust

I don't deserve this.

I can't believe you're doing this to yourself.

Hold the wheel and drive

So: life, life, life, eh?

I'm going to Wolverhampton tomorrow for my college interview - please wish me luck! Luuuck luckluckluckluck....You don't know what a rotten borough is do you, George?

Aghem...

I cannot wait to see my sister tomorrow, my little knight Ewan and mini-me Benathon. If this change happens (I pray and pray that it does) I shall embrace it. I've been a bit worried about getting excited about the whole thing in case it doesn't happen. But I shall find a way. Even if it means having to travel to central Birmingham every day.

Pete is in Saudi Arabia for ages. He's so lucky to travel but I think his heart is torn between his lust for travel (which his job generously grants) and his family at home. We all understand though and he's really provided the best for his family this way.

I'm just rambling now because I'm not concentrating on writing: I'm singing along to old songs that I shouldn't know of at my age.

Tally ho!

Thank you for the music

And for other stuff.

I will do good. I will honour the universe and the people around me for all are wonderful.

Mr. Kerouac, I pressume?

'and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centrelight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'.'

Roll the Dice

If you’re going to try, go all the
way.
Otherwise, don’t even start.

If you’re going to try, go all the
way.
This could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.

Go all the way.
It could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
It could mean freezing on a
park bench.
It could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
Isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
And you’ll do it
despite rejection and the worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.

If you’re going to try,
go all the way.
There is no other feeling like
that.
You will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.

Do it, do it, do it.
Do it.

All the way
All the way.

You will ride life straight to
perfect laughter, it's
the only good fight
there is.

Charles Bukowski

I want to work in a bookshop

Edmund Blackadder: Now, listen, Frou Frou/Joanna ... Would you like to earn some money?

Frou Frou/Joanna: No, I wouldn't. I would like other people to earn it and then give it to me, just like in France/Kent in the good old days.

Getting up at six am to dress pensioners sucks.

'Life is a highway'

No more literary or political references in this post, I promise. Have a picture of the wonderful Chelley and me instead.

This sun is just delicious. I'm already sunburned and become loopy and excitable every morning I wake up and those majestic beams glare proudly into my window.

The Sweeps festival in Rochester was fantastic and now I want to do Morris dancing.

A* for my overall English coursework and got an A for the mock exam I did last week. I am worried now because I've set high standards for myself and if I get anything less than an A in my official exams I'm going to be so disappointed in myself. I'm worried the questions will be dull and uninspiring or that my imagination will switch itself off on the day! Oh well, we'll just have t wait and see, I suppose.

Time to go and enjoy the summer afternoon with Jo. I want to make the most of every glorious drop of day I'm gifted with before I leave this place.

The end of 'The Dead' from Joyce's 'Dubliners.'

'So she had had that romance in her life: a man had died for her sake. It hardly pained him now to think how poor a part he, her husband, had played in her life. He watched her while she slept, as though he and she had never lived together as man and wife. His curious eyes rested long upon her face and on her hair: and, as he thought of what she must have been then, in that time of her first girlish beauty, a strange, friendly pity for her entered his soul. He did not like to say even to himself that her face was no longer beautiful, but he knew that it was no longer the face for which Michael Furey had braved death.
Perhaps she had not told him all the story. His eyes moved to the chair over which she had thrown some of her clothes. A petticoat string dangled to the floor. One boot stood upright, its limp upper fallen down: the fellow if it lay upon its side. He wondered at his riot of emotions of an hour before. From what had it proceeded? From his aunt's supper, from his own foolish speech, from the wine and dancing, the merry-making when saying goodnight in the hall, the pleasure of the walk along the river in the snow. Poor Aunt Julia! She, too, would soon be a shade with the shade of Patrick Morkan and his horse. He had caught that haggard look upon her face for a moment when she was singing Arrayed for the Bridal. Soon, perhaps, he would be sitting in the same drawing-room, dressed in black, his silk hat on his knees. The blinds would be drawn down and Aunt Kate would be sitting beside him, crying and blowing her nose and telling him how Julia had died. He would cast about in his mind for some words that might console her and would find only lame and useless ones. Yes, yes: that would happen very soon.
The air of the room chilled his shoulders. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live.
Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.'

Egads and golly golly gosh!

Cripes! Boris wins the election to be Mayor of London!
1,043,761 first choice votes for the old mucker.

Okay, okay I know what you're saying: why is this a good thing? Well, let's put my obscure tendency for crushes on middle-aged toffs aside for a second and look at why I really do think that he's the best of a bad bunch, or best of a bad two really, as there were only really two parties fighting it out (Labour and Conservative) as we knew would happen.

So with all that aside, I think it will be good to have someone to represent London who has a bloody sense-of-humour! Boris is very ENGLISH. Not your run o'the mill BRI'ISH BULLDOG
but a well-spoken, bright, interesting character. He manages to faff around and talk twaddle all he likes and still convince me he can do his job. Something I wish I could convince people of sometimes!

That said, if I lived in London I may feel entirely different. Not having studied each parties policies and aims very closely I am going almost entirely on face value and what I feel would be a good image for London. Boris, I hope, will bring the face of the real spirit of London to the capital. Seriousness, English spirit, and a bit of well-needed fun and relief all rolled into one.

As a side note I am pleased to see the Green Party in 4th place with 77,374 first choice votes (better than nothing and I think better results than they've had for a long time) although not too pleased to see the BNP in 5th place with 69,710 first choice votes. So it seems that the majority of London loves ol' Borisson, a third of them are ecologically-aware and a fourth of them are racists.

Go figure.