It's been a while ...

... so long in fact, that I thought the LJ blog was the current one? Oopsie.

Anyways, another thing written that I don't want to lose, so I have to post it here. I suppose after writing I now have a sense of what I wanted to say ... something mixed up between having wanted to be a music journalist, but now realising it's not as special, privileged or creative as actually being a musician, and the beauty and badness inherent in that statement. Especially seeing as I want to write about art now, but I'll be up against exactly the same argument. Perhaps being a curator is the ultimate step between the two? Who knows...

Brighton Concorde 2 review in The Independent

As much as I love Simon Price - he's never swayed from his constant desire to bring exciting new "pop" movements to the masses - I really do feel that he is the one missing out when reading his critique of The Horrors' Brighton show. More to say shortly, but here's the article ...

The Independent

OK, here goes ...

I too love a band that have a sense of style as well as musicality. Even more so, I love individuals that have an ethos or manifesto of types to sum up their passions and desires. But most of all, I love it when people evolve and transcend all these things to become something more organic and "real"; a truer depiction of a whole. Such things take time though, and when an artist adapts and incorporates their varied experiences and influences as collected over the course of touring, promotion or everyday life, their art will invariably change.

I think it's probably easier for a journalist, for Price, to assume that he is staying true to his manifesto and beliefs, yet all the while denying artists are staying true to theirs. After all, his "look" hasn't changed in all the years he's been writing, as far as I know? Price's work will always be the same though; his writing can be affecting, but it will never transcend being a bunch of words that serve perhaps only to inspire someone to pick up an old record, read a great novel or check out an incredible director. His words are important, don't get me wrong, they're just not as important as the art he is critiquing. His perceptions are incisive, but probably not life-changing. Not that Price has ever claimed they should be, just that in critiquing something that can change lives, by writing about art, his words assume a powerful position, which can sometimes be misconstrued as more-than-just opinion.

But then, I suppose all I'm saying is that I disagree with Price's opinion, really? I think the fact that The Horrors have evolved - and from what they've publicly said, it's been a very natural evolution for them - is a great thing for music and those who believe in the power of music to inspire and touch and affect people's lives. And that their visual transformation is a natural part of that progression, and not a loss at all. That their performance has changed, it apparently (for I haven't seen the band play live at any point of their career thus far) has no less impact upon the people witnessing the spectacle than before. Yes, it's different, and the affect may have moved more from the visual to the sonic, but isn't that the point of music, to inspire and affect more so aurally than visually?

Just my two bobs worth, however, and welcome all such comment ...

New year, new dramas, new me?

Aaahhh, could it be possible ...

So, it's been quite a while since I last wrote. The excitement of exams and finishing Uni, followed with the inevitable comedown. A trip East pretendingly based around work but actually unfolded as a sojourn of solitude and recovery. Yet a seductive prick at the tail end however, which, I discovered the following week upon my return home, turned into a bit of a throbbing pain and has now turned into a wound that I know not how to heal. And then Christmas followed by NYE all mixed in with more visitations from afar, and I ended up spent, broken and spat out by the holidays.

Such fun, I hear you ask? Well, naturlich (how the hell can I add an umlaut?), nein, but a lesson to be learned nonetheless.

I proclaimed that this 34th year of my life was to be the year of saying yes, yet I am still as cautious as ever. Obviously, this only ever really has anything to do with matters of the heart, and I let another possibility just s-l-i-p away on a plane into the skies once more.

I don't know how to figure out what is worth expending energy on, and what isn't anymore? I'm sure my Mother would encourage me to do one of her fabulous SWOT analyses, but I don't really think that's going to give an accurate reading of one's emotional tendencies in such situations. Maybe I'll try a brief a rundown here, and see if typing it out helps any?

Potential suitor numero uno: has the geographical benefit, as well as the fairly well-established friendship. Yet the potential of ruining said lovely (and extremely necessary friendship) and the difference in years and experience counts against #1. Plus, we've only discussed our separate desire for mates, rather than a mutual desire for each other.

Potential suitor numero dos: has requited feelings most definitely of something more than friendship, yet the huge geographical distance makes it pretty impossible - in the short term - for these to develop in any other way than virtually. And knowing my track record with email flirtations/relationships/explorations, they invariably never live up to the hype in real life. However, the coincidence meter is off the scale regarding #2, could that be a secret weapon, perhaps?

Potential suitor numero tres: has had the benefit of already seeing one naked so there ain't so much in the way or embarrassment to be spared in that regard, (yet, I can always dig up self-consciousness in spades as and when necessary.) He also has far more important personal issues on his plate right now, and doesn't score too hot on the geographical divide either. Do I have feelings because I feel like I should, or because I actually do? When he's not around or in mind, I'm not sure how highly #3 features on the love-o-meter?

and that leaves Potential suitor numero quatro: whom I adore spending time with, but I just don't know if I feel anything other than friendship, when I know his feelings run far deeper than that. Is that beacuse we've never been able to spend terribly much time together over the years, again a rather large geographical as well as age gap? I have been in a couple of potentially very romantic situations with #4, but I always felt more awkward than enamoured.

If I could have anything I wanted in the world right now, I think it's fairly obvious which suitor could Sharpie my heart all over his dance card. Is it right to wait for that to happen, knowing full-well the possibility may never arise? In that case then, do I push for it, batter the poor gentleman around the ears with my incesant desires to make something happen? Or do I pursue the closer to home option, in some sort of 'we both know we want someone else, but this'll do until then' solution?

Anyone get a crystal ball for Chrimbo? Care to let me take a look, please?

My YES year?

Wonderful Celeste has suggested that my thirty-third year, be the year of YES! So, I am to document everything I say yes to, and if I can associate a song with it, I'll come up with a super playlist too...

So that's the idea. Starting Saturday. Am I putting it off? Umm, no, not really. I don't think?

Anyway, a song to start with. The Rapture's "Olio" off the Yes New York compilation, perhaps? Same version as on 'Echoes', I cannae remember which I heard first though, everything back then is such a blur ...

Yes to NYC for next year as well, too! Hurrah!

art & music is on my mind ....

Today's inspiration: Jonathan Jones' Art blog on the Guardian website.

All of his ideals about artists are pretty amazing, lofty and inspiring. But when he mixes up music - and one of my favourite bands, no less - with talk of art, I'm always particularly interested and intrigued.

Not to mention, the talk of late 70's/early 80's Britain is pretty much the most melancholy time I can imagine, what with Thatcherism at it's height and all the degradation it produced.

His other recent posts on Rothko and religion are pretty great too.

Enjoy.

birthday?

how do i get through the night now?
the next day?
week?
month?
year?
lifetime?

i lied
i told the truth
i parcelled it in lies
i apologised
a lot
i was gracious
i think
i hope things won't change
but i can't imagine them staying the same

i hurt
i'll get over it
i'm sad
empty?
free?

That's good, right?
no
we'll see
never say never
so embarrassing

nervously

apologising
profusely
and promising hope that nothing would be different

i feel i've betrayed him
betrayed his confidence
betrayed his need for an impartial sounding board

i did it to unburden myself
but instead i've burdened him with it

i hope so?
i said we could
i said i could

but not right now, no

i feel lonely
and empty
and sore
and despondent
and hopeless

it's my birthday on saturday
unhappy birthday to me
again
unhappy lonely birthday to me

Groups?

I think I'd really like to try some group therapy. Maybe it's time to speak to my friend about the Grow group she goes to? Maybe not right now, but just to find out more.

It's not often you ever see anything written about dysthmia, so I was pleased to come across this today, hence the post ...

"The symptoms you describe are accurate for dysthymic depression - mild constant depression interrupted by occasional serious episodes."

After that first session, I take a walk. It has become stunningly obvious that my noticeable traits of character - things I had put down to personal idiosyncrasies - are actually symptoms of depression: isolation, difficulty having relationships, feeling sad, rejecting affection.

I'm scared to read on though, in case she worries - like I do - that what you feel is inherent to your very personality and being, is described as bad or wrong by the medical professionals. Needing to be changed.

But changed into what? God only knows I'd love to have the answers to that and other such questions. I could have slayed **** yesterday when they were carrying on about knowing where their life and career were going. I'm just starting on that journey, trying to figure out where I want things to go, it's only just beginning for me. So, I don't think it's wrong that I don't have any answers just now. Or is it? Oh, I don't know, it's all horribly boring anyway, really.

So I'm nearly 33 and just beginning. At least I'm beginning again, and not still heading towards the end ...

WIll this ever get easier?

Having to talk to new people about my illnesses and then fill in fricking forms to analyse my depression/anxiety/suicide/general mentalness levels really dampens my mood. Is that surprising? Probably not. But the past two Friday's have been ruined by said occurences, of course, other good things have come out of them - not everything is all doom and gloom - but I just hate the absolute low that I hit and then I have to rely on someone else to drag me out of the doldrums. It's ever so boring. Well, at least Manoj thinks the DBT will only take 16 months instead of four years, how's that for hope? Do you note my sarcasm? If you dom't, I have no idea why you're even readin this, I obviously don't know you ... Anyway, here's to Friday being the new Sunday, any of my ex's can tell you quite what that involves, nightmare.