Dear Mark, the reason why you can't get through to me is simple.

You've got the wrong number in your phone book.

D'OH!

Luv G x

Sometimes I have difficulty connecting with people. making an emotional connection, I mean. A lot of the time, I'm a bit distant, keep people at arms length. Like My head doctor said the other day. I seem to be to be a very black or white, all or nothing kind of person. There's people I let in, and these are my friends; and everyone else i keep outside the wall, whilst i sit behind in perfect isolation.

Sometiems I don't let people in. I can't. I withdraw. I like my own space, and don't like people. Don;t like havign to deal with them. Would rather be left alone a lot of the time. (This is of course, a recipe for loneliness. I know this, but I can't get over or around the protective self defense mechanism of it, because I find it difficult to trust).

There's an old Bill hicks adage about the people who don't like people party getting together, but discovering no one turns up.it's kind of true. i find it very difficult to trust anyone i don't alreayd know, and often keep people at a distance, to shield myself from beign hurt. it doesn't matter if they are no threat to me or not, what matter is the fact that last time I got close to anyone, i got fucked, and I'm not going to let that happen again. Sure, i miss being with people, and being socialable, and interacting, btu i hate the falisty of it after a little while. They don't stimulate my brain, the false friends and deciet and bullshit. So why bother? I just retreat away. From everyone. From my own family. There's a reason why I don't keep in touch with my dad, and its not just because I feel I have nothing in common with me. If it wasn't for the biology, he'd be a stranger to me. In fact, in many way,s he already is. But he's still my dad.

In many way, I'm a stranger to all but my closest friends. i don't like it that way, and it doesn;t have to be this way, but I find it difficult to break out of the pattern of protecting myself from others not to get hurt, to keep people at a distance. i can;t change overnight, I don't know if i can change that much, But I don't like it much, sat here in perfect isolation, here behind my wall....

THE BRAVERY OF BEING ON THE BUS



I'm on the bus. There's a man behind me. He's talking to himself. Constantly.
'just go. just go. cmon cmon' he grumbles.The bus is sadly, subject to the vagaries of traffic. other people. Not what he wants. He wants his own personal taxi service.
'ain't got time for this' he mutters as The bus slows down to avoid crashing into the back of a car ahead of us.
'This is fucked up, you cunt' he says as the bus slows down to let passengers on.He swears, because he's the only passenger on this bus in a hurry.
'go go go' he says, when a car ahead of us reverses into a car parking spot.
'don't you dare' he says as the light turns red.
don't need the red light' he complains as the bus slows down for said red light.
'I'm runnign late as it is , MOVE ' he says at the traffic islands.
'Thank God,' i say when he finally gets up and gets off the bus.

And officials wonder why people don't use public transport more often.I wonder if he went to the university of life and the school of hard knocks eh?

As blatantly stolen (without permission, sorry!) from Porl, here's one of my favourite pieces of art. A genuine Banksy, at Westminster Square. Last time I saw this one was last month, walking back to Victoria Station from seeing David Gilmour playing somewhere in london.

I may have come across as a little angry in my last post. Sorry about that. I really, really hate football and all its meatheaded devotees. Baaa.

Its been an interesting week. i've had some letters, completely cocked up when Chigs Party is (its next week, not this! dammit), and erm.. been licked by a donkey. It might have been a pony though, but it was horse shaped, whilst not actually being a horse, and by virtue of definitely not being a dog, might have been one vaguely equine.

I got off the bus in the day, and decided to visit somewhere I had never been before, which was a country park somewhere in Birmingham.Walked along into it, far away from buildings and then I leant on a fence, next to the pony. He stopped eating and walked over to me, and licked an outstretched hand, though I might have been mistaken for food though. And then he turned away and I stroked his nose and pelt. Kinda sweet really.

Yesterday involved buying food and paying bills, getting electric, etc. All very expensive really. And then I did some tidying. As you do.And with it being a bank holiday, I wont blog on monday. Sorry.

According to the Mighty Skrufff, Mixmag have branded Brazil 'the new Ibiza.. Never mind the fact that its a bit more difficult to get to, more expensive in airfare, and subject to horrendous gang warfare, its best summed up as this 'Sao Paulo has the best music scene but is Brazil's most expensive city. Think Birmingham in the sun." . Mmmm.

*shudders*

I hate football. I hate its empty headed, vacuous, sheep like herd mentality. Where people gather aroudn TV sets, wearing logoed shirts bought in sports shops, drink beer, and the only sport they ever participate in is couch drinking. Where the empty causal racism of supporting Britain means we are better than everyone else, where we substitute our pride for the sporting performances of complete strangers, where we fill our lives with empty, meaningless bullshit.

Instead millions of people this summer will hanker around a flag, worship TV sets, and get passionate about something they can neither control or influence, but care about passionately. intensely. Deeply. Much more than they care about the price of oil, the rising oceans, the impending credit collapse of our society, and certainly much much more than a human life. Or at least the human life of an iraqi, because we certainly don't care so much about the 100,000 of those killed in the past five years at the blunt end of our munitions as much as they do about fucking football. And hide behind the casual xenophobia of being 'better than zee germans', of the '40 years of hurt' since 1966 when we last won (ha ha fucking ha - it's not hurt, its a meaningless distraction, a trivia, a shell game, that we distract ourselves whilst the world burns around us. Who cares about hospitals closing when you'be got football?)

Xenophobia is the logical extension of excessive pride in your nation. Therefore, xenophobia, that is "fear of aliens" (or the different) comes from Nationalism. England is NOT superior to anywhere else, its just different; by virtue of not being anywhere else. Wanting England to win is as meaningless as wanting to wear a particular colour. A nation means NOTHING, it is just artificial division of people by meaningless, arbitrary barriers to breed conflict. England? its just the lump of rock in the ocean where I was born. I don't see any colour, I don't see any reason to hate people just because they were born on a different lump of rock. Why Should I? Why should I go around with a t-shirt with slogans in english on the front, and GERMAN on the back, simply because we are competeting with germany? Oh, Well, if I wanted to, i could just go to asda.Take your narrow minded english xenophobia, and your stupid bloody game, and shove it up your fucking arse.

Why is that bunch of people on that rock over there so worthy of our hatred and dismissal ?

I don't care who wins.... because there's more important things in life than a bunch of millionaires kicking a ball around. A nation is just a rock. Claiming that you want England to win because you were born there is as idiotic as claiming you like people with blue eyes because you also have blue eyes. I'd personally be quite glad to have England get chucked out in the first round, if only so it would all be bloody over, and life can get back to normal.

Prior to WWII, the word Propaganda was used quite freely referring to the control of the public mind, especially in social sciences in the 30's, until it got bad connotations. To quote the work 'On propaganda' by Edward Brunei, which is regarded as the standard manual of Public Relations Industry and written back in the 1920's..."the conscious manipulation of the habits and feelings of the masses is the central feature of democratic society. We have the means to regiment peoples minds as efficiently as armies regiment their bodies, its the way the cement power structures".

An idea still echoed today by Chomsky.

"It's goal was to control the public mind,the public mind was seen as the greatest threat. They needed to control the peopel by other means, what they feel, what they think, their attitudes, their attitudes towards one another....".(Noam Chomsky's speech from cambridge, Mass on Feb 7, 1997 - That can be found on Various Artists CD "Less Rock , More Talk", on AK press Records).

What could thse millions of people do if they cared more about their fellow human being than a football game?

Take in a trip in the time machine back to something I wrote a while ago here , and I still stand by it.

I tell you, when the oceans rise, when we are fighting for food, when oil is £250 dollars a barrel, won't you be glad we won the world cup back in 2006 eh? Won't it make all that worthwhile? Will it hell.

I fucking hate football. I really do.

Not so much two jags as two slags , yet another minister is found mired in sleaze. So much for labour being the government to take us away from the sleaze of the John major years eh? Already we've had ministers shagging secretaries, fertilizing other mens wives like Tony Ferrino, and thats just on sexual issues. Less said about the fact that we went to war on bullshit and lies, the better.

Anyway, Saw becca yesterday, went to the library, walked home, cooked, saw giles, saw the rather odd but very interesting Silent hill (the film it most reminded me of was Constantine), which has is visually stunning and has some incredibly surreal imagery and monsters. Its eerie, unsettling, and undoubtbly very good. But it falls down a bit on the plot, which is overall unsatisfying; the resolution leaves many threads unfinished, and the whole raison d'etre a bit bloody far fetched. Modern day witch trials in a small town I can understand, but the whole supernatural revenge of the undead by the mental powers is another, such as when they spawn a perfect child out of their uncorrupted, untwisted part of their brains; and the power of that mind is enough to influence the real world, a la the Medusa Touch. Especially when people are burned at the stake for being a witch, but there's no proof she's a witch. But then she acts like a witch. Wierd. So much so was the whole sort of 'she's a witch / burn her!' schtick I kept expecting these guys to turn up



But it is bloody dark, violently gory, bloody and full of monsters. But not the usual horror movie monsters - its as much a unique style of monsters as Giger, courtesy of the wierd visual style of patrick Tatopaulos. Ok, the films plot is a bit threadbare, but the film is eerie, unsettling, and yes, very very gory. Especially for a 15. Mind you, it is utterly visually inventive and striking, as anyone who saw the directors previous movies - the french werewolf/catholic religious conspiracy/Swordfighting epic Brotherhood Of the Wolf - will know. Both of which are reccommended.

Anyway, then we went to Asda, and thanks Giles for the cinema, then came home. And today I didnt reorganise the kitchen (Well, the thing is, I had a couple of boxes of cereal on the windowsill, but instead cupboardised them), but went to see the head doctor, saw a friend, walked a lot, and then went to the library on the way home.

Move along, nothing to see. Oh, and I didn't get the job. Nor mind you, did I not get it. Instead I've been invited to apply for a waiting list where they MAY offer me a job at some undetermind point in the next twelve months. How bizarre.

Local elections next week. I won't be voting. This is because the electors register is supposed to list who is 'normally' resident on October 7th. On that date, I was normally resident nowhere. I was homeless. So I can't really go on the register. However, this has soemthign to do with the fact I don't want my embittered ex-wife looking me up and stalking me.



Anyway, toodlepip.Nothing else to report. A pretty dull day, really, but i will be very busy the next few days. Oh, and the birthday party of the mighty Chig to go to too! Don't tell anyone though, he doesn't look a day over 39....

Just got back from seeing Becca. yes, she is very sweet and very chilled, and smiley and happy. She particularly likes saying two letter words like 'ba' and 'da da' a lot, and grabbing hold of my fingers with her hands and then she gets excited about seeing her feet and takes steps. I really think she is very sweet and great, except when she is sick on me. I just wish I could talk to her but I don't get very far in conversation, which mainly seems to consist of smiles and giggles.

I had a letter about the job. They were late getting in touch with me, and as I suspected, it did not include a start date. more news as I get it, though.

Pretty tired, having only slept about 4 or so hours, and last night I reorganised the kitchen so that food is in the cupboards now, not on the kitchen windowsill. However, the freezer is empty, and that needs rectifying.

Oh, off to see the shrink tomorrow, by the way. And todays random words is teledildonics . not sure why. That new K-9 by the way? i don;t mind the design, but they've fucked up the ears big time.

I noticed a letter about how Chernobyl proves nuclear power is a bad idea in todays metro. Thats like saying that 9/11 is a good example about why not to ever fly or go to big cities ; or using the titanic as an example of why peoples shouldn;t float on water with their iron deathtraps. Anyone interested in chernobyl (wormwood, for your conspiracy theoirsts), might want to read 'Ablaze' by Piers Antony Read , a fascinating study of the disaster that explains an awful lot of wht happened and why. I don;t think we quite have the same to worry aboutas the russians, but thats because at Chernoybl all the safety protocols were ignored and normally, there's about 17 layers of safety procedures at western stations. (Also, Chernobyl was built using seriously outdated technology, unbelievably so.).

i'm no fan of nuclear power, but I think it's a sensible alternative compared to say, the oil a holocaust and power wars of the coming decades. In true Daily mail style, i can predict however that this will affect house prices, mainly because its difficult to sell a house when it's two metres underwater. Just wait for the oceans to rise, global warming style, and then we'll see parliament relocate to ben nevis won;t we?

Mind you, I far prefer renewable resources such as wind turbines, tidal generating stations and solar photovoltaic optionbns. They'll only run out when the small yellow sun goes into heat death in a few billion years. After all, when did the sun stop burning in the sky? Or the last time the wind just stopped blowing? Or the seas just lay flat as a millpond, an unmoving static mass of saltwater?

But We all know what will happen when the oil wells will run dry. Just look at the effect of the small squeeze in october 2000 in england, where we were 48 hours from food shortages. And that'll be nothing.

Did you know that over 50% of vehicles in the US are 'classified as 'Light trucks', (ie SUVs), which have an average useage of 20.7 Miles per gallon? And when it hits $100 for a 13 gallon barrel of oil, well...it sure will be expensive to go down the shops to pick up a soda. Even the US stopping purchases for the strategic oil reserve recently (which currently stands at some 670 million barrels) won't help much. I found that out by listening to the world service, which can be very fascinating a lot of the time.

nd for those of you who do like Chris Morris, you might wan to check out the revelation that he is in fact just a tool of the illuminati dedicated to sexual depravity, as identified here , in one of the most paranoid masonic conspiraciey pages ever. its a vigil in a wilderness of smoke and mirrors, and makes David Icke look positively sane.

Mind you, I thought David Icke's book 'Alice In wonderland - the 9/11 story is a monumental lie') was doing ok until the chapter on shapeshifiting lizards being in control ofthe entire world. I think he's been watching V too much.



This, According to Icke, is the face of our secret masters, who control us via the media, who rule usa like a servant class, mere raw meat, whilst hailing from the stars.

One thing is for certain: there is no stopping them; the lizards will soon be here. And I for one welcome our new reptilian overlords. I'd like to remind them that as a trusted blogging personality, I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves.....

*ahem*

Dr Who not so much jumping the shark as bouncing on it with a trampolene and a motorbike whistling the star spangled banner...

Please make it go away. Now. Whats next - "Muffy The Daggit" gets a TV show? Galactica 80?



*makes robotic pow pow barking noises*

Blah Blah Blah Moan Whinge Moan Blah Blah Blah Chris Morris is God Blah Blah Blah I love Star Trek Blah Blah Blah I went to the library and all you got was this stupid blog post blah Blah Blah Slef Pity and Loathing in various spellings Blah Blah Blah Look how stupid tony blair is Blah Blah Blah hate myself and want a pie Blah Blah Blah hello I am SINGLE blah blah blah nobody loves me thats fine I don't love me either Blah Blah Blah [Insert unfunny jpg here] etc. etc. etc.

I think I get a bit repetitve and tedious sometimes, don't you?

I don't think I make much of a secret that I don't find life as it is particularly easy. I know I have a lot of erm...psychological and adjustment issues, really. I don't mean that in a clinically diagnosable way (though I do have an appointment with the psychologist on thursday), but I mean sometimes I get very bleak, feel paralysed by indecision, get badtempered and lazy, and feel swamped by the smallest of things, followed by fixating on certain things beyond all sense of logic and get lost in the minutae of my hobbies.

I'm beginning to think I'm turning into my dad, and I don't like it. Things need to change, but its a slow process to begin that takes times and they wont happen overnight.

I still havent heard about the job. I have no expectation of getting it now.

I am pretty bloody annoyed today.

. According to the estimated bill i had from British Gas, I got through 200 units of electricity in four days with an capped, isolated meter. How the hell did i do that? i don;t know, but Iwill be making a telephone call about it. Especially as when I did have the electric switched on it would take me fourteen days to get throught that with a working meter, rather than 4 days with a capped isolated meter that didn't work.

So yes, I'm bloody angry. The last post could be accused by some of being nothign more than mere braggadicio. Which it's not.

My point was instead this - I got damned for what I didn;t do, and it caused the breakdown of my marriage and some emotional scars I'll be paying off for the rets of my life. I can;t deny that my relationship with my ex-wife has changed me, made me feel al little embittered, find it difficult to trust and connect emotionally. But the worst thign is that altar on which she sacrificed our marriage was so expiendiently thrown away as soon as it had served its purpose, when she turned her back on the church like she had turned her back on her friends, and started again.

In hindsight, she used the church as soemthign to lose herself in to substitute what she though was missing from the relationship she and I had. In the same way that spending hundreds of pounds on fluffy blue stitch toys from ebay was a substitute for externally projecting her desire for a child. Thats is why once she no longer needed the church, it was dispensed with like a dead junkie in a crackhouse. Swiftly and heartlessly.

Either way, the point was, Its made it hard for me to trust anyone. I expect to be let down, to be hurt, to be fucked over by the next person. Its not them thats at fault though, its the fact that thats my experience of relationships. And Yes, I'm single, probably will be for a long time, and its probably for the best.

After all, like many people, after it broke down, I hid away for a long time. Went hermetic. Still am. Still have difficulty reaching out and connecting with people. Its just the way I am now. Yes, I can hold down a conversation, but most days I just don;t communicate with people. Except via this blog, really, and its rare I can get out the stuff thats in my head most of the time. I'm just not eloquent enough at the library to do it.

I wish I'd never met her. She'd never had the chance to fuck me up. That I'd never needed a place to live and had to turn to her for a roof over my head. I really do.

I'm so much better a place now I'm not with her, and not with anyone. I do get lonely, but who doesn't? On the othe rhand, there's no one to annoy me, and that I do like. A lot.I can play music as loud as i want, or as quietly, cook when i want, be messy, and walk around the house naked, and no one tells me off. yes, i know its selfish, but it makes me happy. I don't need to approval of stuck up ninnying people, or anyone.

I miss being with someone, but I don;t miss the bad stuff like that. I just miss being loved. Who doesn't? Who doesn't want that heartache to go away?

It doesn't matter that much really. I'll be with someone someday, when its right for me, and not until.

Anyway, heres the links:

Wandering Scribe hits the BBC.

total reboot for star trek
trek jumps the shark

he much dreaded concept of starfleet academy comes to life; its a guaranteed screw up in a film tin. I fully expect it to be bloody dreadful; you can't rewrite history nomatter how hard you try. (I've my own idea on how to reboot trek and this idea thats been sat in the trashcan for 20 years isn't it...)and talking of a total reboot

its 007 time.

Here's a script review for casino royale.Forget everything you think you know, this is bond on his first mission. In a post 9/11 world. Wipe the slate clean, and its only way to make it parry with anythign in the past is as having 007 as a mere codename for a string of agents assumign the identity and name of bond. Well, this is so bloody contradictory its untrue, mind you, bond is fiction and I suppose in a way they can;t even pretend its still the same guy 40 years on. (After all, according to the official history, bond is now in his 80's, and doesn;t oil of ulay do wonders eh?)


Aliens Vs Predator 2

Sounds fuckign appalling. There's no other way to describe it. Taking Aliens into the realms of Freddy vs Jason vs. generic teenage horror movies with schoolkids and aliens, this makes the likes of Critters and Tremors look like Spartacus.Quite frankly, it sounds like Fox decided to make a low budget generic teenspolitation sequel to their two biggest franchises in a straight to video market.


Anyway, thats the meejah roundup.

As inspired by a telephone call the other night...



How it should have been:

Sometime in 1997, just as the job at the reocrd shop was comign to an end, the band I'm in after having spent a few years learning some hstory and playing select gigs, finally breakthrough with an indie single on fierce panda, and get signed up by a major label. Following a few whirlwind gigs and a spot on an NME tour in early 98, not to mention a main stage appearance at haigh castle with the verve and reading, the debut album hits huge. We are the biggest selling UK rock band sicne 3 colours red, the wildhearts, and everyone of that ilk.

A minor spat with kerrang develops, and as I give good press,We tour the US successfully. The last single off the album is massive in the US. Work on the second album, and again it all goes well, spawning a huge tour, and a live DVD, which pioneers the format. By album number three, which is still huge but not quite as successful as the other two, we manage to headline various UK festivals and release a double live album in 2002, whilst we go quiet. Just for column inches, we hire the drummer, and then get in a better one.

A short tiny exclusive tour of small venues ensues rather than our normal leisure centre jaunts in the UK, and I meet and marry a nice but talented ex-rock star girl(see Caitlin moran, Louise wiener, marianne vAn De Flugt, Pip Dann, etc ie not quite as famous as me but still desirable), but not before courtney love comes out of the woodwork as a stalker, ensuring my legend.

Signing a second huge deal with EMI, our first greatest hits comes out and then I start work on a string of low key solo albums whilst the band becoems inactive, retiring to a reclusive country estate in a quiet place somewhere in England but as far away from London as bloody possible, able to go around my usual business away from the hustle and bustle of paparazzi and parties. Seeing the NME changing its (white) stripes away from britrock to bands from new york who sound like MC5 and the Stooges and with the word 'the' in the name, we announce a temporary hiatus, releasing a string of archive releases once every couple of years in order to let the money roll right in.I get mark to write the official biogrpahy of the band, which makes his name as a great writer andsubsequently he sells an awful lot of books he's done on his own.(No one really knows we are brothers though, because of my rock star stage name).

I disappear from the scene, revered as a van morrison/syd barret-esque kind of figure who later on resurfaces as a novelist / legend and with a weekly column in the guardian, rather like will self but a damn sight more attractive.


And...how it really was:

I didn't have a band in place when I got fired from the record shop, so I got a day job doing telesales. I now live in a council flat, on my own, single and on the dole.

Oh, Bollocks.

In lieu of a big blog post, I did the list down below.

I was reading last night. (yeah, big deal. Read a lot don't i? kinda). I was reading a letter I wrote, well - an email - to an ex, and it reminded me of so much I had forgotten. And so much I was damned for that I didn't even bloody do.Accusations made by someone who shall we say, damned me for what I didn't do, and never even knew half of the chances I passed up when i was with her.

I wish I'd never met my bloody wife. She's caused so much pain and heartache and changed me in so many ways, I wish I could go back to the way it was once. When i was with her, i didn't feel alive, i felt controlled. Don't watch these movies with bad language, ooh, its violent, do we have to watch a 15 or 18 rated movie? (shit, i don't live in a disneyfied existence, where the genitals are smoothed out like barbie dolls and all we say is 'sugar' or ' cottonsticks'.) And why did you put so much filtering on the internet provider we used (courtesy of her brother) that Anything which even so much hinted at a rude word was blocked. No porn for me. Hmmm. I got around that by manually searching around in windows for the blocklist of urls as a .txt file in Norton and deleting it so I could get around the list of blocked urls.

I feel so much better now without her. I wish I'd never met her, so I could never have had to go through those years and that bullshit. I really do.I loved her, in my own way, but i wouldn't want love at the price i paid for that. I'd rather be without. (Which it looks like i am right now, boo hoo).

She doesn't know about the time I turned down a work colleague the week before I got married who was making it blatant she was up for something If I was - I've never been told at work by a woman 'God, I'm wet right now', especially not a woman who I'm alone in the office with, being the only people in the building and everyone else has gone home - but Nothing happened with her. She just told me to stay in touch, and two years kater when my wife found her business card in an address book she accused me of fucking her, just on the basis of a business card I was given by someone i once worked with, nothing more. Nor does my wife know about someones 25 year old blond female cousin on a night out in the pub who told me " in the pub who told me "You know, If I was wearing a skirt, We'd be fucking by now" less than 4 months after we married, and what i did that night was leave long before closing time and come home; because I missed her, and even having goen home having turned down a blatant offer of sex, I still didn;t get laid even by the person i was married too. (She sent me off to deal with it myself instead). Nor does she doesn't think about the time about a month after we married that we were invited back to a hotel room for a foursome session with an irish girl and her bloke who were friends of friends, but instead I clocked it for what it was about 5 minutes before and told her I wanted to leave because i felt uncomfortable. Again, I turned it down and walked away from it on a plate, pretty much. (This isn;t trying to come across as arrogant, because I'm no gene simmons

Shit, if I'd known she and I were going to split, it would have made no difference If I had gone ahead and done all of those things would I? No, what matters is the accusations, the insidious paranoia about things that didn;t happen, which in her mind, were as real as could be.

And people wonder why I say I wish I'd never met her. I wish she hadn't had the chance to fuck me up just little bit more.

I'm not being maudlin about it, but she'll always be a part of of my life. By that I mean, she'll always have once been part of my lie, part of my history, part of my past. Which is where it's best to leave her. Behind me.

I'm glad I'm not with her anymore. I really am.

This took bloody ages