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Sunday, 21 November 2010

Oh Dears From An Idea

'kick off is neigh' I shouted out a loud in the middle of Broadmead, the shopping centre of Bristol. Decked out in a horribly musty old school shirt, black jeans and black and white face paint. Basically I looked like the deranged extra from Insane Clown Posse.

I shouted out 'We are all damned' whilst holding aloft a bottle of Ketchup. Now I probably know what you are thinking, what the hell was I doing in Broadmead with a bottle of tomato ketchup looking like black and white battered reprobate.

This was my attempt at performing a publicity stunt, to get the press to come and see my paranoid rap split personality Manic F.

I named him that because I swear I suffered with a type of depression called Manic Frustration Syndrome. So I was a manically frustrated rapper who used to get into peoples faces wearing black and white face paint and cover myself in tomato ketchup.

Basically I had decided it would be a good idea to try and do something top raise some publicity for an up coming gig. I had heard of bands like Manic Street Preachers who had chained themselves to a buildings and kind of cool things likem that, which I guess had been completely pre meditated so they could get the media there.

Mine was premeditated on the train into Bristol, I mean I managed to send out a few scratty delusional e-mails out to both ITV and BBC locally thinking ha, I can get the TV cameras out and about, with a big yeah boy style

You see my plan was to do something I don't think anyone had done, I had decided to try and impersonate one of those street preachers, you know the kind of people who are mentally estranged enough to think that mouthing off in public will convert people to christ.

My plan was pretty much full proof, or at least so I thought. I would get to the galleries in Broadmead and change in the toilets and get changed in the toilets, dont worry dear readers this is not the first times I have made an idoit of myself in such a way, there have been so many occasions in the past.

I walked through the shopping centre with sed clobber on, its fair to say that I had quite a few interesting stares come my direction, and even a few sniggers.

I waited quietly for the cameras to show up, you see I had quite clearly stated that I was doing this from 3pm, i know that the emails may have been misguided, but at very least they could have allowed me to make a class A twat out of myself in front of the TV watching nation. So after a while of waiting around I thought what the hell and just went for it! in my true sense of failing style, I mean what's the worst that could happen.

'The only way you can save yourself is if you come to my cathedral of noise' I said shoving photo copied fliers into peoples faces, most of whom looked a little startled which is not really surprising is it. how would you react to a big guy in black and white mottled face paint.

After a while things started to get a bit stale because I had started to get bored of scaring old dears nearly to death and playing up to chavy teenagers whilst running around.

So I looked about and saw a H & M store, brilliant I thought to myself as entered the shop. 'your shirts are made of pure vile' I screamed whilst chucking my hand made fliers, 'you are all scum' I shouted, which I know is not entirely true, as I was ushered towards the door.

I was then physically pretty much hauled outside because I had also doused myself in the tomato ketchup. You see kids after a while Ketchup does start to smell a bit funny and also itches. I mean I had it on a while and mixed with the face paint it kind of smelt of molten vinegar or fermenting vegetables.

After a while of not really getting anywhere and drawing the wrong kind of attention, I mean getting the eyes from the police as they passed on by was a little dis concerting. I mean I know I looked more then a little out of place, all you can do is ignore me.

so I trudged off to the train station, still covered in my mottled black and white face paint and itching tomato ketchup. My heart was slightly full of disappointment, as the day had not really met my expectations. I mean I really did expect to make some real headway in national media.

That and I had to wait because the train home was late, so it meant I had an entire platform of people piss themselves laughing at me "Oi Mickey Mouse' they all shouted. Ha Ha very funny I thought to myself with my head shrunk facing the ground. It was just another one of those Oh dears from and Idea

Monday, 15 November 2010

Gig going adiction, new fits and anxieties!!!

Sometimes I question myself, What is it like to confidently promote yourself as being good at myself, I mean I have some pretty good attributes, like my ability to make up poems on the spot and do crazy surrealistic drawings.

I guess one of my problems is that I am just too damn cynical when it comes to judging myself, I have an amazing way of turning away peoples complements. I f I get complemented at all about my looks then I just blush and kind of turn away, its not an arrogance or an ignorance thing. It all comes down to me having a fear of success, I know your probably thinking why do I fear success!.

Those of you who know me, know that I am one of the most self depreciating people around. If someone asked me to list all the things I am good at, I would probably spend most of my time listing off all the things I am not good at, I mean I am generally pretty bad at approaching people, making contact with others or asking for things!

I went down to the Foals gig the other night in the Academy in Bristol, I have personally seen this band a good 8 or 9 times. I even ended up having a lock-in with them after one of their gigs in Bristol a couple of years ago.

Well anyway I turned up at geek o'clock ie about 3 in the afternoon. I call it geek o'clock because it is the time when the only people about would be nerdy autograph collectors and blaggers like myself.

We would all loiter around praying that x y z a person would show their heads, because around at that time there would not be screaming hordes blaring in their faces, just sadly depraved people like myself.

I must admit I do wait around a lot, its like as if band stalking is my full time profession. I mean it doesn't earn me any money, but it has been known to get me into places because I am extremely skint.

If I was too pay for everything I went to then I would probably be spending in excess of £20,000 a year, that's the equivalent wage of a decent office job.

You probably all think that's all a bit too excessive but I do have a relationship with live music, which is a bit like a moth too the flame, you know when you see something you just have to be down the front to be a part of it. ~its probably also one of the main reasons why I have never had a girlfriend.

You see I have the patience of a saint, or even more patience. Its just that having patience of a saint doesn't really impress people, this is partly because I tend to social alienate myself a bit to much, I have never found it easy to fit in with people, which may surprise some but not others.

So that's where you will see me is down the front of the show bouncing like a deranged lunatic, or spasticated daddy Long Legs, with shoddily cut hair lolloping in peoples faces.

It has also earned me a certain amount of publicity, some of which is not really heeded. it can get quite surreal because there are situations where I am starstruck by the artist or band and then there will be kids who are starstruck of me!

It feels like as if at times I am stuck in a weird perpetual circle where I often feel like as if I am being an inconvenience to the artist and then being idolised by screaming kids, I do ask myself what am I being idolised for? for being the music fan equivalent of a train spotter and rattling off an in audible amount of bands?

Right today kids here's the 151,000 or so bands I am going talk about today. Pay close attention because I will be drooling about their musical importance for hours on end. I mean you could probably imagine me outside the venues lecturing the kids, actually you dint have to imagine that just turn up to any gig early and chances are that you will see me mouthing off and probably both annoying the ass off people.

here's another thing I don't really have much confidence in my appearance, So the other day I did the nouvel thing of going clothes shopping with my mum and my sister. Is it me or do other men find clothes shopping scary?

Well for me its pretty horrifying as I usually feel like an Over dressed hippo, plodding around, 'you've got to have more variety of colour' my sister said when I tried to explain to her that Black is pretty much the only colour I look good in. 'nonsense' she said flinging various coloured things my direction

'This makes my stomach feel like a pot bellied potato' I said as my bulge lolloped out into to a tight fitting hoodie. If you ever are going to make a big fat couch of a guy like myself feel good about themselves then don't give them tight fitting clothes because it will make them feel like a bloated wale.

I think that clothes shopping is generally one of the most uncomfortable experiences for me, I don't know if others feel the same way. but to me it feels like some form of overly devised torture.

I know that people arnt deliberately mean, its just that I cant help but feel persecuted by the changing room attendants because I don't have the skinny fit look of all the other wafer thin trendies that are lining up to try things out.

everyone in those shops makes me feel very nauseous, as I can see the Changing room attendants thinking 'He's going to look like an over sized toffee apple in that combination' as I try on various jeans and stuff.

The level of my self conscience shoots through the roof when my sister and my mum say I look cute in something. This lead to me saying that I looked like a stuffed pig.

You see I have the special ability to be able to put myself down even if I am in a really positive mood. And so every clothes shopping trip just usually descends into me hurling insults at myself.

I look like an Orang-utan posted in a chimp zoo whilst wearing and snug fit shirt, that I actually thought looked quite good on me. You see that's the nearest I come to complementing myself.

I have noticed recently that I have started to develop a bit of a stammer when talking to some people, its like as if my anxiety kicks in to overload.

So recently I have lost a lot of confidence with my speech, that's one of the many reasons why I have never been able to ask anyone out! or never really done house parties because of feeling really uncomfortable. The last house party I went to I wanted to hang myself, because I felt like I was being burden, even though there were lots of my friends there.

I guess the reasons why I am like this is because live music is the only thing that really makes me feel socially acceptable and I don't have to ruin their perceptions of me as I fumble with speech!

Oh well!

Saturday, 6 November 2010

pollitics and prosthetics

I tell you one thing wearing a tuxedo does do for me is that it gives me a sense of self belief!, I mean i might whilst wearing it be able to bring up some very powerful things, like break down the doors and rules.

Well maybe only a bit, but it could possibly give me a voice to be proud of and speak out for what I believe in.

I mean I am someone who traditionally fears power, though i don't know if there is actually anything traditional about it. its like as if the sort of thing that over hangs me like my worst nightmares.

I guess the reasons why I fear power is simple really, because I think it is natural for us all to fear change. I mean look at the Torrie party their still the same liars with too many fingers in so many back handed pies.

I mean I may well at times be stating the obvious, as if in most of the major main stream politicians cant really truthfully reflect upon entire constituents voices. that would be Nye on impossible, could you imagine what that could do to a politicians psychiatric state?

It would be interesting to see if they could battle all the voices, if not be a bit like asking a mentally deranged schizophrenic, who's voice is more powerful. I know not all politicians are mentally deranged, its just that there seems to this eticate of almost anti socialistic class ism going on.

For me there is no such thing as clean politics and I don't think there ever was. OK I don't know too much about our political history, that's because I am only 28 years old and there is plenty more for me to learn about things like politics.

Wouldn't it be great if we could all live in the world where we could all see the truth. It would be great wouldn't it!, I mean you cols have an honest Torrie party, instead of being lead by the cheating selfish bullying scavs that they are.

T o me they seem to have a school yard behaviour where they seem to all bitch slap each other, about who is more Eton then the other, do you remember that joke Gordon Brown, back fired a bit on you didn't it considering you went to somewhere similar didn't you.

Forgive if I come across being a bit biased with my views, but i feel that the Animal farm style of politics leading this country has got to change, and not just in the way that the mainstream governments seem to think.

I am not quite sure who to go about shaking up a revolution, because not one person can really speak for other people in expressing their views.

To me this were the big problem lies. its not so much the little men in the parties that ought to be feeling our Roth but those who are the greedy pigs at the helm. I mean you can just seem them all smarmerly battering back questions whilst selling us false things. Its like Mc Donalds trying to sell themselves as an ethical family company or that their food was good or healthy.

I mean I think we are being forced fed into being a state where there will be no questioned asked. I know that's a difficult thing to express but I feel as one person a voice can easily over washed by not being listened too.

So many industries are being pushed to the brim and education costs are soaring, so that present or future generations can not afford to, all this just seems to conspire a huge wedge in the class line dividing society.

All sense of invention is being destroyed, its like as if they are teaching us to be embarrassed to be individual. very body is being judged as a statistic, i would probably be placed in the pile marked unusable, because

This may come across as being all big words and gob shite coming from someone who could not hold down a job for more then a few days. I admit it and hold my hands up that I am a hopeless dreamer, maybe dreaming of things far beyond my reach, like the reformation of the Monster Raving Loony Party.

Well at least we could have the possibility of having a good circus act running the show, instead of the moronic humourless clowns we have running the country now. i mean how much more interesting would it make politics, to have much missed Screaming Lord Such Character exposing some opponents for not practising what they preach.

I use the word some in there with a bit of caution, because we don't want brainless renegades like the BNP spouting their mouths. for those of you who had the misfortune of seeing their flyer for the last campaign, it was possibly one of the scariest things I had ever seen. It basically consisted of lots nazi photos of white German people, basically trying to portray the BNP as a family friendly party.

That was quite frankly horrible in its look, but wouldt it be funny to see them try an apply their policies. I mean their whole thing is really fatally floored, because if you did not read their manifesto then they believed all people who are related to immigrants should deported.

well that would mean that we would be evicted, because it only takes a brief glance at our history books to realise we are all illegal immigrants in some way or another! I mean we have been invaded by pretty much every country.

I mean if I ran the country in the perfect world, I would teach people love each other and create a beautiful world, with beautiful creatures.

In my opinion there would be no Torrie, BNP or EDL parties preaching their pornographically perverted power hungry and senseless idiotdomes.

I mean any party that preaches on the destruction of industries or racial in-equalities consist of people who should be confined to the loony bins. where they could get treated by so called special people in a very special way!

I think that something like the treatment would be using a straight jacket.

In the end you could probably just say that I have been frustrated by the belittling feelings I get from this country's leaders, also wouldn't it be great to have an atheist leader.

a leader that could question things about religion, you know like ask the pope about some of his friendly Nazi like, oppressionistic rules, i mean I am not condemning people for believing in various faiths, its just why do we have to pander various personalities to be political leader?

I love the bible stories, i think they are great literature but they are nothing more then good fiction stories, at least we have the freedom of choice weather to believe them or not. if people believed the stories of god creating the world in 7 days, then we can at least write them off as being complete nut Jobs. I mean we already have one Christine O'Donnel, do we really need another one?

If you don't know Christina O'Donnel is then i would advise you to go on Youtube, she is the ultimate god squad clown and leader of the Tea Party movement in tha states. She is quite frankly terrifying, I mean the video where she protests against masturbating is hilarious. Her claims that Aids meds are getting too much money to develop worthwhile treatments, is just really shamefullly bad. I bet god is up there somewhere hanging his head.

My one question for her existence is who the hell gave birth to that nut job, i sure hope they had a lot of things to loosen then up, because I bet she was a tight one

Hell maybe I really should give it a go, you never know it might be a popularised thing and maybe challenge peoples perceptions.
Well at least I would look good in my tux!

Monday, 1 November 2010

Thoughtlesness, work and adulation

What can I write? it’s not a question a writer should put into words. But I think like all thoughts are congested like a great pile up of life. My mind flickers over the broken memories, as a sleep depraved state holds up these eyes, a bit like my confidence being blocked.

All emotion is dead after burning one too many candles at both ends. I notice this because what was fun just becomes a bit stale. Even though you know good things may prevail out of you, you just don’t always know how to acknowledge them. It’s a bit like meeting amazing

This is at large due to my poor addled brain! After a certain amount of excess ion my poorly addled brain just turns into a deranged goldfish, spinning in a boiling bowl of water, not sure which direction to take. This summer was Heavy with a capitol H

I had managed to comatose myself after a succession of festivals which had left me calling on 2nd 3rd or 4th winds, which included a 43 hour stay awake stint at Standon calling festival. This lead to me sprinting around the festival like a bug-eyed loon, whilst wearing my Tuxedo.
Now you’re probably wondering why I would wear such a thing! All I can say is that if the festival says fancy dress then I like to do it properly, you know dress in a higher standard an all that.

This very tuxedo that I was wearing was originally brought by my mum from a charity shop, so that I could have something to wear at job interviews. Job interviews! Screw that, not that I personally like to be unemployed for my life’s entirety, but it’s just that I am so bad at applying for things.

It’s all heightened by my overwhelming fear of rejection. I had a job interview some years ago, in a Somerfield’s super market in nailsworth, which is in the middle of nowhere, right out in the countryside.

Anyway the interview went spectacularly badly, I mean how easy can it be to fail at such an easy interview but somehow I completely failed. And somehow the sense of failure has managed to overhang me for pretty much the entirety of my life. I mean I would like a job but I haven’t found anything which has been suited to my needs as a person, I know that probably sounds a bit pathetic but it is the truth no less.
I always have the tendencies to say slightly odd, if not completely wrong things. Like when the woman asking me why I wanted the job at Somerfield’s, to which I replied a typical teenagerish reply. ‘I don’t know’ I said with about as much enthusiasm as I would have if I was watching paint dry. I was a bit clueless at that age when it came to how to show enthusiasm for work, the word work in my mind came across like some sort of torture device.

I was young I didn’t want to work, working to me was a bit like slave labour, you know being forced to do torrid tasks that you don’t like. I mean like getting me to work was like trying to be a slave master over me, cracking my back with a harderned whip, or someone harassing me with a golden carrot being dangled in front of my nose.

To most people a decent, or just any wage is their golden carrot where as with me a golden carrot would be seeing the reactions on someone’s face, especially if I had done something to make them feel good about themselves. My golden carrot would be totally emotive reactions of other people, I guess I don’t just like to work for a simple pay check.

Most people think I am just being lazy but it’s just that I want to work in places and with people that inspire me, I have tried to do factory work and I could not hack more than a couple of days of it. The most socially repressing work I have ever done.

People walk around like emotionally repressed Zombies, this just isn’t me. I ended up hospitalising myself after one shift at the Royal Mail Sorting Office. Here lies a note to one’s self when you are in control of a conveyor belt don’t start to pretend you are a dj and scratch the moving belt, because you will just look like a class A twat. Secondly don’t start practising Jackie Chan Style manoeuvres on the Conveyor belt because as I found out to my pain that machines can scratch back viciously.

I don’t think my Mum was too pleased when she heard the phone call from me saying that after one day’s work. You see I lasted one day at that place, eight hours of being with emotionally repressed Zombies had clearly got to me.
You see getting my hand caught in the conveyor belt was probably my get out of jail early card, because in my head I may as well have been put in a prison, as I could feel myself talking to blank faces that had been emotionally worn down by the lack of natural light, or emotional insight.

I mean I was bored and when I get bored I have tendencies to daydream, it’s like as if my mind just caries me off into other worlds. If someone opened up my head they would probably find the entire cast of Lord of the Rings locked up inside, or that my brain is really nothing more than a bloated goldfish.

So the Tuxedo got dragged around to a myriad of festivals, Bestivals, Weddings and Hells Bells. Dragging it through sun, sea, mud and sound, like as if it was homeward bound. There was something about it that made me feel proud about myself, with its sleek black outline that hid my plump couch potato exterior pretty well.
It often fitted in with any murder mystery theme, not that I actually cared about fitting with the right costume or not. For instance the festival could say dress up as alien or fictional characters like comic book heroes, but I would always turn up in my tuxedo. whereas most of the people would spend one day in their costumes I would spend all weekend in my tux. As you can imagine 3 days solidly of wearing the same thing for 3 days, it itches pretty badly and you smell like cesspit, not a great way to impress people really.

I must admit to being a bit excessive whilst at Standon Calling Festival, it was one of the most stunning festies I have ever been to. With so much attention to detail on the look of the festival, the decor was so beautifully done; it had a real charming effect with a Murder Mystery feel.
There shops who were decked out in Victorian styled fronts that were made out of wood, but looked really realistic with mountains of paint covering the woods surfaces.

The music line up is always essential to every festival and the line up for this one was no exception. The highlights included Canadian Punk rockers Fucked Up, whose singer spent most of the time in the audience bare chested and flabby stomached, giving people big sweaty hugs whilst bellowing out lyrics.
Kate Tempest and the Sound of Rum, for those who are not familiar with Kate Tempest then I would loosely sum her up by saying she is in my opinion pretty much the best rapper in England at the moment, she has a jaw dropping ability to reduce me to tears with her knack of natural flare and almost fearless precision. I mean she at times says things which some people are too scared to say.

It took me ages to be able to say hello to her because she has become like this figure that I idolise, I know that this probably sounds a bit geeky sycophantic, I always find myself getting embarrassed in front of various female performers.
There have been a number of times I have managed to embarrass myself in front of various people, I don’t know whether it’s me or does there seem to be a whole male libido thing with females who are either in or front bands, I don’t know if it is something about them having been onstage which instantly increases the attractiveness.

There have been several occasions where I have really embarrassed myself, there was one case where I pretty much fainted on top of Natasha Khan (Bat For Lashes) because I got a little too over excited because she came up an gave me a massive hug. She also told me that she wished that she could pack me away in her suitcase. When she said that, it all got a bit too much for my poor heart and I proceeded to collapse on top of her.

It was quite a sight seeing as she was battling with this big fat oafish guy collapsing on top of her. I have to say she is quite strong as the hug she gave me was more than a bit bracing. To be honest I think any other guy would have probably reacted in the same way, just probably without the same level of hysterics as me.
There was also the case of Charlotte Hatherly, for those of you who are old enough to remember she was the female guitarist from Ash. Ash were one of the poster bands of brit pop punk 90’s era, so I used to have photos of her strewn on my walls.
And the first time I met her I didn’t half make a fool out of myself, I can remember going up to her whilst she was sat at her march desk. She was signing lots of stuff; I got so nervous that when I got to her, I mean I ended up spitting out a hundred words at almost a hundred miles an hour.

Her face had something of a perplexed look on it, as she tried to interprate what I was saying. It hadn’t helped in my case that I had been up the previous night partying with the Brisfest crew.

Her eyes looked nervously at me as I leared across at her from the other side of the Merch desk, almost dribbling onto her, I probably know what you are thinking! This is a beautiful picture I am painting a wonderful picture of myself, there's charlotte Hatherly on one side of the table looking scared at, this hairy weirdo who had been bouncing like as if they had been possessed whilst she was playing.
As you can see from this there seem to be a continuing trend, which I doubt will ever stop!