Oh My Giddy Aunt!

I'm so very sorry that it has been a while since I have been on here. A lot has happened. As you may see from past bloggings I have bitched and moaned about my A Levels. And then I went to Lanzarote with my girlfriend. So pretty busy.
Well in two days time I find out whether or not I have got the grades to get in to Kent University. This would be all fine and good if I wasn't absoloutley SHITTING myself over the results. Because if I don't get in to Uni then there is one of two options:
1 - The Police



OR:
2- Fuck knows. This is even worse.

Anyway, Thursday 18th is merely round the corner and I won't be sleeping tomorrow night. Wish me luck.

P.S.

Kicking the dirt of the street looks so damn familiar
To undersoles and under your soul.
I chose the place to meet. You chose the way to eat
Floor to ceiling, door to door, as I spoke some more.

And blue smoke arises
As I speak from aside over and over again.
And the bottle keeps me singing as I
Piss and moan over the telephone.
Melodic telephone

An unfamiliar touch brings me back to the old ways.
A headboard rush keeps me going back to the old days.

And blue smoke arises
As I speak from aside over and over again.
And the bottle keeps me singing as I
Piss and moan over the telephone.
Melodic telephone.

They don't know what it feels like.
They don't know what it feels like to be lost in love (x4)

And blue smoke arises as I
speak from aside over and over again
And the bottle keeps me singing as I
Piss and moan over the telephone.

Borne On The FM Waves of The Heart

I have one of those feelings. I think it's jealousy. I always get this tight knot in my stomach when I'm jealous of something. Not someone. I'm not talking about someone who has the latest gadget that society tells us we should because of stupidly severe marketization.

But I guess it is also one of those stupid gut feelings. It's always when I hear a frigging great song by a band I love. Or watch a brilliant performance by actors who I just admire. I'm talking about this becasue I am watching 'Lynn Hirschberg's Screen Tests' on youtube. And I am just sitting here, admiring these people who I don't know, and probably will never know, just like 'Wow. Wow I want to be this.'

It's the same old thing, isn't it? Young kid. Wanting the public eye. Performing in front of millions. So people can watch interviews of you and think to themselves 'Wow. Wow I want to be this.' But the odd thing is, when it comes to playing music, I don't want my aim to be millions.I want to be in one of those bands who would have been around for ten years and still be playing modest places like Brixton and Shepereds Bush. Quite the difference eh?

And what set this up today was that the first screen test I watched was Jesse Eisenberg, who I am a huge fan of. I guess I am part of that recent circle of Jesse fans. I have a friend who is a real die hard Jesse fan. But the guy is like our generation's answer to Dustin Hoffman and Woody Allen. Not becasue they are jewish, even though with the examples I used I could probably see why people may think I think so, but because they were both great actors and director's and performers and writers. And Eisenberg is the kind of guy I love, who doesn't know what he can do and the gift he has got and what it does to people. I could watch 'Adventureland' over and over becasue it speaks to me. One guy. Doesn't think much of himself. Doesn't think he could ever get the girl. But he also has a fucking great circle of friends who are eccentric and do what the fuck they want because why should we give a shit what others think? And The Social Network is just sheer fucking brilliance. Eisenberg and Fincher should team up more often.

It's the same thing with any movie though, right? I love watching John Hughes films. I think those films are just fucking timeless. When I watch 'The Breakfast Club' I always get that tight feeling that started off this whole blog. And 'Pretty in Pink' is a great one as well. I want ducky to be my friend.

But then there is music. Music speaks to me as much as films do. I love acting. I'm currently an A2 college student doing Drama. And I love music and singing and writng music. Whenever I write a song that I think sounds half decent I always think to myself 'fuck, I wish I could show this to a fuckload of people. See what they think of it.' But I sometimes feel like I don't have anyone to show it too. Not because I am some self-pitying, 'one man against the world', rebel without a cause type of guy. It's becasue I feel like I am never going to get an opportunity to at least see where I could go with music or acting. I listen to an Alkaline Trio album (who, you should all know by now,I have a never-ending love for) And I watch Matt Skiba interviews and I get that same feeling as I do with Eisenberg. Two different role models but they are so similar too. Humble. Modest. Know they are lucky and just do what they love to do.

I honestly walk down the street sometimes, listening to my Ipod. And it doesnt matter if it is a Punk song, Elvis Presely, Musical Theatre (which anyone should love becasue it is pure fucking art!), or an irish song. I always find myself walking down the road, or on a bus, or a train, imagining myself with my guitar in my hand and I am blasting out a guitar riff and I am drowning myself in an audience. And it's the same with acting.

People might read this, and my earlier blogs, and think: 'If performing means so much to you, then why don't you really make it your whole life?' And the reason is I read too much in to the realism. I know I am going to love Univeristy and doing my chosen course, Sociology and Criminology. But I look at statistics of out of work actors and musicians and it scares the fuck out of me. I would love to be able to do both. Be in a punk rock band and be acting at the same time. I'd love to be able to hold a Grammy in one hand and an Oscar in the other. But I'm too scared to make it my whole life. And I'm too scared to put away the safety and throw myself in to the unknown. I over-analyse. What if I'm not good enough? What if I just get lost in the shadow of a statistic?

When I go to uni I'm going to try and start a band. I may also look for drama societies or local youth theatres. But I am scared. It would be fucking incredible to have people look at me, or watch an interview of me, and get the same tight knot in their gut that I got not ten minutes ago.

Don't Say Goodbye

This is the end my friend.
Don't be afraid of the light that hides in the beginning of your life.

Don't say goodbye my friend.
So long, farewell won't happen if you do so much with your time.

The tide don't wait for man.
You don't have to worry if you've got a plan.
So we'll say adieu for now.

Just hold tight.
And remember who you're with.
Just look around.
Keep your ear to the ground
And you'll be safe and sound.

When you go to the next stage
Don't worry about the words and the way's that'll all come in time.

The tide don't wait for man.
You don't have tp worry if you've got a plan.
So we'll say adieu for now.

Just hold tight.
And remember who you're with.
Just look around.
Keep your ear to the ground.
And you'll be safe and sound.

Celebrity Skin #2

LADIES! Seriously! Why is it that at ages 13+ you are already consdering plastic surgery? Why are you TAINTING yourself with all this crap and pumping stuff out and shoving stuff in?! It's worrying!

WAKE UP AND SMELL THE VOGUE (don't ask) WE HAVE PLUS SIZED MODELS NOW!

Women now have something to ASPIRE to! Every day women. I know I am a man. According to men, other men aren't supposed to feel the pressures of weight and looks because all they want is a good fuck, right? 'Get in, get off, get out'? WRONG! SO WRONG! I have days where I will consider my stomach slgihtly rotund. Or my face a bit lop-sided. But guess what. Newsflash: Models are airbrushed.

Consider the 'Dove Evolution' video clip. We were shown clear evidence that adverts for make up are airbrushed, primmed, cut, and sucked in to make eveything seem more 'perfect.' And then in the end the poor woman's final picture looked nothing like the shoot itself.

I know models like Moss Stone and a younger Nigel Barker are flat stomached and have pecs and abs and what not. But are they representative of real life? Real people? No. They aren't. And though they don't realise it, and it isn't their job, fashion magazines make people feel crap because they literally glamourise the life that these models are presented as having.

I love curvy girls! Bloody love them! I love something I can hold and feel. Boobs, bum and tum! That, to me, is what attractive is. Don't let yourself go, and eat unhealthily. Look after yourself, sure. But crash diets, lypo-suction, breast implants and bum implants and lip pumping. No. Let men want you for who you are. That's what you deserve. There are some things you can't get rid of. You can get rid of the fat, not the scars.

Love yourself for who you are. Make people want you for who are. Take it from a man. I may only be one man, but we aren't all shallow. You can have big boobs, bim bum, big tum, and be absoloutley stunning! I promise.

Love you all!

Dear Fear

A tonne of bricks are made for building on the crack of my back.

You said you could feel my heart beat,

But there there's something that lacks.

You told me not to wear that shirt it doesn't suit your taste.

Well fuck that I'll wear what I want,

I'm not going at your pace.

"Put that out and sink your drink you don't know what It's doing to you."

Well fuck this I'll steal the bar till I don't have a goddamn clue.

All bets were off when I couldn't win you.

This is goodbye my dear.

A bittersweet taste is all that's left.

That look on your lips

That's so good with tricks

Makes this the worse fear.

Inside the cover of smoke I'll pierce my nose and get a tattoo.

I'll do whatever it takes not to impress you.

All bets were off when I couldn't win you.

This is goodbye my dear.

A bittersweet taste is all that's left.

That look on your lips

That's so good with tricks

Makes this the worse fear. x2

Dear fear x3

Could Punk Really Be Dead?

They say that Punk Rock isn't dead, just sleeping.

Well if that is true, then it had better wake the hell up, because I don't think I could take any more of the dross that is being shown on the television I am watching. As I sit here and type, I am watching Kerrang's 'Top 50 Vein Pumpin' Punk Anthems!'. It started off ok. Bit of Green Day, a dash of The Offspring and, thankfully, a pinch of Alkaline Trio was even thrown in, playing 'Stupid Kid' from thier third full-length studio album 'From Here To Infirmary.' But then they started playing songs that didn't even SOUND Punk! Every member of some of the so called 'Punk' bands had fringes down to thier vaginas! Elliot Minor? Forever The Sicket Kids? Boys & Girls? The current artist playing, Cobra Starship, sounds like some Capital. FM bullshit!

I like a bit of new blood in the Punk Rock scene. For example, Broadway Calls are a band I would sincerely suggest. Their single 'Back to Oregon' is sligtly reminiscent of the good old 90's Chicago based Punk bands such as The Lawrence Arms and, again chucking in my biased fanatic fandom, Alklaine Trio.

However, these bands aren't Punk Rock. Well, not in my opinion anyway. Any band whose every member consists of a fringe swept over one eye or the other and wearing inches thick of make up don't scream fans of bands such as Bad Religion or The Casualties.

The only time I would excuse such hairstyles and make up in a Punk Rock labelled band would be in bands such as Aiden or AFI (the latter of whom I myself am not a personal fan of), whose influences at least came from bands like The Misfits and The Damned and other such horror-punk bands.

When I saw this 'Top 50 Vein Pumpin' Punk Anthems!', I obviously set my standards up too high. I may have got one Alkaline Trio song, but is it too much to ask for a couple songs from Against Me!? Hot Water Music? The Gaslight Anthem? Anti-Flag? Rancid? NOFX? Heck even some old skool stuff would be great. The Damned, The Misfits, The Ramones, maybe even The Sex Pistols. Is that too much to ask for, from a Punk Rock fan, to actually have a programme stick to it's title and deliver?

If bands like Elliot Minor are beginning to be called Punk Rock, then I will truly start to lose all hope of ever being in a band myself, because I'd need to color my hair about a thousand times, wear fourty inches of foundation and wear shirts and jeans that are too small and so skinny they may as well be skin! Don't get me wrong, I have a pair of skinny black jeans. I occasionlly don the black nail varnish and eye-liner. But some of these guys are practically Drag Queens!

Must dash. But I will leave you with this song, that explains what I feel has happened to Punk Rock, and what Punk Rock should be!

Celebrity Skin

So I have been talking to my friend K_ about perfection, because she is someone who I don't think deserves to ever be down on herself about any aspect of her personality. I am going to tell you, my beautiful strangers, something that I realised on my own about four years ago.

I want to ask you: What is perfect person? What defines a perfect person? I have always said that to be a perfect person means to be imperfect. People are not perfect. People have their imperfections, their temptations and their negatives. Perfection is PIPE DREAM: a dream or asipiration that will never occur nor materalise because it is unobtainable.

If you are someone with good morals and values and you basically know what it is to be a good person, then realise this right now; YOU HAVE NOTHING TO CHANGE ABOUT YOURSELF, FOR NO ONE. Honestly! Who do some people think they are, that they can make you feel that you are not good enough for them? Seriously, you should never...EVER...feel the need to change. Of course there are going to be aspects of yourself that may not be brilliant. Of course there are going to be reason's to hate on yourself. But that is human nature. That is who we are as people. But it does not make you an imperfect person. What people see as wierd or odd or out of sorts about you is just what gives you CHARACTER!

Please believe me, as a person who feels the same things as you and goes through the same shit, that you don't have to feel down on aspects of yourself because in the end it makes up what you are and it is that which makes you an individual.

If you know you are a good person and you have morals and values that makes you as such, then never ever feel crappy about yourself. You don't deserve it and you will never deserve it. You are who you are and in the end you should feel so happy about that.

Stay true to yourself. Stay true for yourself.

Xox

Someone Like You

Just a cover. Thought it was quite good so I'd display it for the whole world to see...fair enough.

What Is So Bad About Being Good?

So an un-named friend of mine's nan died today. This women had altzhiemers and has been rough for a couple of weeks. Her husband is probably one of the most kindest, generous, selfless and genuine men I have ever had the pleasure to meet! Have any of you seen 'The Notebook'? For those who haven't it is about a man whose wife of about 40-some years has altzhiemers. But does he give up on her? Dose he 'lump' her on to some nurses and make her 'their problem'? NO! He fucking stays with her. Every fucking day. Pretending to be a reader. Reading her diary.

You can say this is a 'girly' film. That I'm not 'masculine' (whatever the fuck that means) for watching this film. But you know what? I don't give a fuck.

My friend's grandad was just like this fella in 'The Notebook'. He cared for her. Always tried to make her smile. Stroked her hair, fed her marshmellows 'coz she LOVES em, and all this other small stuf that COUNTS as us as being fucking HUMAN!!!!

This leads me on to my next point. So in the news today I found out that a gang war today resulted in a shooting. And this shooting was probably caused by the insult 'knob' being thrown at another person, therefore feeling the need to involve guns. A 35 year old shop owner and FIVE YEAR OLD GIRL were caught in the cross fire.

I'll just repeat that.

A. FIVE. YEAR. OLD. GIRL!

I'm not a violent person. I'm 18 and have never been in a fist fight except a few blows thrown between myself and my quaralling brother. I'm against the death penalty. If you ask me it's the highest form of hypocrisy. 'You can't take a life. That ain't your right. So we are going to take yours.' But, in all honesty, when it comes to kids aged 14-21, and older, who carry guns and shoot at eachother, not caring about those that it might inflict OUTSIDE their pathetic issues, I couldn't give two good goddamn fucks if they turned the guns on themselves! Honestly these egotistical, monstrous, selfish, imbecilic idiots who think they are so 'hard' that they carry around guns and knives and all other kinds of pathetic stuff need to realise that it isn't 'masculine' or 'butch' or 'manly' but PATHETIC! And THAT'S IT!

Away

Windows for a face,
My blank starry gaze.
Fear fills my eyes, my mouth,
With it's bittersweet taste.

The picture frame starts to crack,
'Cos there's no turning back.
They all say we'll be happier you'll see,
But there's something that lacks.

You'll feel better in time,
But that's a goddamn line.
It came as quite a shock,
I didn't see the signs.
The tears came fierce and they came fast.
Wasted memories from the past.
All I can really say,
Is how can I get away.

January goes to march,
When does forgetfulness start?
I see that day when I close my eyes,
It's tugging at my heart.

Old Ghosts laugh and smile,
Memories come from miles.
But all soon leave before my eyes,
As I cry stay a while.

You'll feel better in time,
But that's a goddman line.
It came as quite a shock,
I didn't see the signs.
The tears came fierce and they came fast.
Wasted memories from the past.
All I can really say,
Is how can I get away?

You'll feel better in time,
But that's a goddman line.
It came as quite a shock,
I didn't see the signs

The tears came fierce and they came fast.

Wasted memories from the past.
All I can really say,
Is how can I get away?

How can I get away?

How can I get away?

My Ears Are Insulted!

Has anyone else heard the ATROCITY that is 'Friday' by Rebecca Black? This song has actually made me die just that little bit more inside!

I mean, seriously, are those bloody lrycis for real?

'Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday,

Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin)'

I mean COME ON:

a) Who told this girl who could sing?

b) Who even wrote those bloody lyrics? A five year old? But then again a five year could probabaly be a bit more creative than 'Gotta have my bowl, gotta have my cereal' or some shit like that! At this point in time I don't care if I've misquoted because it's a SHIT song.

This is, without a DOUBT, the worst Song I think I have EVER heard. EVER! She is like a female verison of Justin Bieber. But, Jesus Christ, even J.B himself aint that bad (though not far from).

On that note, I think I'm just going to go to the grave that is now music. Because if music can be a spirit, Rebecca Black is DEATH!

A Quick Blog

I may be absent for a while. I have more work than I can handle due to procrastination. I love you all. Do forgive my neglect.

X

'Hang Your Idols'

I have decided to take action for my musical passion. I have now started putting up my own music and covers via youtube.com. I shall be putting some of them on here under the lyrics I put here.

If you look down you will see I have now put 'siren call' up with a video.

I sincerely hope you like them. If not, then let's see you try to write a song ;-).

Until then here is a cover of Alkaline Trio's 'Emma'

Lotsa Love.

xxx

My Head In My Hands And A Sigh On My Lips

I've become far too complacent with my work at college at the moment. I should be doing work, being studious, preparing myself for the exam period ahead and psyching myself up for three years at university.

But instead I'm here blogging and listening to Alkaline Trio (as per usual), sitting in my college library doing borderline nout!

Why do I do this to myself?!? Seriously!?! I think I may have some condition that makes me obsessed with the drama of getting coursework in on time, and fitting in as much revision as possible. But I hate that feeling. I don't like panicking and worrying about the future and if I am going to get in to university. Only I can put in the right amount of work necessary to get into university.

So why aren't I?

Last night I was at home and thought to myself: 'I should do work. I should do work. I should REALLY do some work.'

What do I do? I play guitar.

And even that was dissapointing. I was sitting there for an hour just trying to find a good riff, listening out for something that might fit with something else. But to no avail lads and ladetts. I just found myself sitting there, frustrated at my lack of skill and knowledge of theory. I aspire to be a musician, but what is a musician without the skill necessary to be so? I have found myself feeling very loathsome at a lot as of late. This frustration at everything can't be at all healthy for myself and those around me. I find myself wanting to run to the nearest abandoned area and just scream and shout at the top of my lungs. I want to grab something breakable and throw it with all my strength. I'm acting out. I'm arguing with my friends and family. I'm crawling in to some sort of shell that I wasn't aware existed within me. But how can I expect people to listen if all I want to do is argue, fight, snap, bite, sneer, patronize and mock? All I am doing by letting out my frustration in such a negative way is hurting those who I could use to help. It's a cruel and vicious circle.

I need to find some sort of peace of mind. I need to stop this ridiculous and unproductive habit of procrastination and get my damn head in gear. Until then I am just going to let more and more build on top of me until I find myself drowing in the cold sea of academia, the deep bite of failure piercing my heart as I get results I know I'll regret, knowing I could have done more and didn't.

I apologise for this deeply depressing and apathetic post. However I fail to find anything positive in my current position. Take care and hope you, my beautiful strangers, are well.

Strange But Good.

Do forgive my absence over the last few days. My mind has been a whirlwind of thoughts and I haven't found the time to do a lot of recreational activities.

Anywhooo I got some strange news today. For those of you who are English, which I suspect most of you are, I have some odd but luvverly information about my UCAS University Application. My first choice Univeristy is The University of Kent. However, I was told I had to get 2 B's and 300 UCAS points to get into the Uni. I found this odd, asking myself how I could possibly get 300 UCAS points with only 2 B's. I discussed the matter with my college careers officer and it turns out that I would only need 2 B's and a D...OH YES...THAT'S RIGHT...A BLOODY D...to get into Kent. Now as you can imagine I was prrrrrrrrretty taken aback by this statement. Asking over and over and over again if that was correct, if my leg was being inappropiatley pulled. But no, my lovely readers, It turns out that a C grade I was given at A.S. is worth 40 UCAS points. A D grade at A.2 is 60 UCAS points, inevitably adding up to 100 UCAS points in total. THEREFORE, as long as I get those 2 B's, each worth 100 UCAS points also, fingers crossed, I am going to The University of Kent ladies and gentlemen! Of course I will be aiming to surpass this D grade...BUT STILL! WOOHOO.


Speak soon.


As Eric Forman once said: 'Yes Yes!'

I'm In...On My Own...On A Friday Night...Eating Burnt Pizza...

...

30 Day Song Challenge.

Day 6: A Song That Reminds You Of Somewhere

Reminds of every Carribean holiday I have been too. They always sung this...and I was always too young to really get it.

Kissing The Curve In Your Clavicle

So Saturday was Ali's and My 15th Month Anniversary.

Please, no applause.

And I have been meaning to write something about her for a while. So here it is. I met Alison Jane Rapley the beginning of college in September 2009. And we barely talked. Like, ever. My brother was more her friend than I was. Now, before I go on you must know Ali and I are the complete opposite of one another. We like different music. She doesn't have the same interest in films as I have. We can have extremely different opinions. Too be honest with you my sweet strangers most of our respective friends and acquaintances probably weren't expecting anything to come of this. Even I was suprised at my attraction to her. Physcially she is, obviously in my eyes, hotter than the fires of hell. But I was surprised at the truth that was the cliche 'opposites attract'. I found myself ferociously and, shamefully, unsublty flirting with her. Suffice to say I was struck dumb. Much like this fella...

...So one day, as the fates would have it, I decided to tap in to my deviant, rebellious streak and skip a Media Studies lesson. A lesson I found complete and utter dross anyhow (how I achived that C grade is beyond me). Ali, myself and a couple other people decide to go on a nice little drive in Alison's car. Whilst on this little turn I find myself, whilst sitting in the back, catching Ali's beautiful blue eyes. Again, sweet strangers, my belly did a little flop (I'm not normally soppy so savour this moment). I turn to a friend and whisper: "I think I like Alison." My earlier fears of my lack of subtelty were confirmed, as my friend replies: "Well that much was obvious."

So there we are. In a small, black Ford. The Foo Fighter's are blasting out 'Monkey Wrench'. We come to a stop. The atmosphere builds. I subtly hint for the other two people in the car to kindly exit. I move to the front. By this point you could cut the tension with a knife. Luckily for me the most romantic song ever written was playing on the radio in the background...Eminem's 'Without Me'. It's go time. I turn to Ali and, ever failing you my beautiful readers, I ask her in the most awkward manner one could muster:

"So. Uh. I was wandering if, uh, you might. Like. To. Go Out. Sometime..."

It was like Jesse Eisenberg in 'Zombieland' minus the hair-brushing obsession. So there we go. It's out there. No turning back now. I wait. And I wait...and I WAIT. And...she says yes.

Phew.

But just to add to the ridiculous-ness-ness that is me...I start to rap...yes...RAP...along to Eminem. Dear oh dear.

But that was that lad's and ladette's. 26th of November 2009 was the first day of a lovely experience of up's, down's, good times and bad times. But I wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

I can only sum up the last 15 months and 2 days with a quote from the great Mr Kipling: 'Exceedingly Good.'

"Grrr" (Spit)

Sorry about my absence over the last couple of days. Far to much has been surrounding my mind as of late.

So I've never been what you would call butch. Most of my best friends are girls and I normally avoid sporting activities at all costs, delving into more artsy forms of entertainment. But today I decided to partake in the viewing of a rugby game with the old man. England Vs. France, Six Nations. I've always quite enjoyed rugby and used to play it but the boys in my secondary school team weren't very supportive, criticizing instead of helping. Therefore I was put off. However I am of a certain disposion of never exorcising. So I have decided to play Rugby at the University I go to next year, hopefully being Kent. Here is hoping my slightly flimsy wrist can catch a rugby ball next year.

As Tigger once said: 'T.T.F.N'

HUZZUH!

Finally, after months of doing countless covers, The majestic man beast Lewis Killick and I have finally written our own, original piece of music. The song 'Siren Call', as seen below, has had both guitar and bass finally added to it.

The next two stages are:

1 - Find a drummer.

2 - FINALLY start to gig.

Will 'Hang Your Idols' finally start somewhere? One can only hope. Until then, let us hope.

Just to say I did it.

So, for those of you who know me well enough, I am an aspiring musician. I've never thought to make it my whole world. I'm curently studying and applying to do a Sociology and Criminology degree at univeristy. So I have some back up's. But I sometime's feel I won't even get the chance to say I have tried it. As is seen in a recent blog I did start a little something with a few friends. However, due to other commitments we barely ever get time to practice. With one we hardly get together, and with the other we never get together.

Many of my friends are in bands. But also most of my friends don't have the same interest in the music I listen to, obviously making it hard to get the right sound out of whatever it is we play due to different styles of playing, tone, etc. Most of my friends listen to Heavy Metal music: not a genre I discredit, but one that I have no real interest in listening to or playing. Lewis and Rachel, who I attempted at starting a project with, unfortunately, again, don't show as keen an interest as I do when it comes to song-writing and/or finding time to even practice. Don't get me wrong, I'm having a little bass/guitar session with Lewis tomorrow. However, it's gotten to the point where I don't feel this to be an attempt at a band anymore but just two friends jamming. This is just as fun but I get a sense of dread knowing there may be no chance of trying out my own lyrics infront of people besides those who attend my college going to the annual Xmas talent show. Of course, it's of no fault of Lewis or Rachel's by any standard. I guess it's all just a matter of interest.

I'm even considering using the year after I finsish University to try and find a career in music. Today I was walking down the road, going to meet my good friend Megan, and listening to Alkaline Trio's 'This Could Be Love' from their fourth studio album 'Good Mourning'. And as they blasted out that beautifully un-holy "This could be love. Love for fire", I couldn't help but get that tight feeling in my gut that I think we all do when listening to a bloody good classic. But what also sprung to mind was both times I have seen Alkaline Trio in thier own gig. And both times when that lyric was sung by the crooning Matt Skiba, a good couple thousand people would repeat. Over and over and over and over.

So there I am. Walking down the street. Listening to Alkaline Trio. Taking a detour down memory lane. And I can't help but imagine how amazing it would be to have a couple thousand people scream out your own lyrics that you probably wrote in your living-room. And I want that. That tight feeling was probabaly jealousy. I want to be in a Punk Rock band like all my favourite bands: Alkaline Trio, Placebo, Hot Water Music, The Lawrence Arms, The Damned, The Gaslight Anthem, NOFX, Rancid.

Even If it goes nowhere. If my lyrics and songs fall flat on thier face. If I'm pelted off stage with whatever people can get thier hands on. Just to say I did when I'm 40, 50, etc. That would be bloody brilliant.

P.S.

I promise to come back to this. I always forget how fun it is ;-).

Faith

Well is it plain as day,
I don't know what to say.
Your forked tongue keeps sticking me to the floor.
I'll keep on trying my dear
If it's what you wanna hear.
Will there be a point when you don't want no more.

Well it's easy you see
To get away from me.
You just turn your back and slowly walk away.
I'd say 'fuck off' my dear.'
If it's what you wanna hear,
Why can't you just get the hell straight out of here.

Face your fears they're prettier than they look.
Those fallen angel's won't give back what thy took.
So get down on your damn knees and pray.
Swear to God that you won't give a fuck one day.

Your so sick and tired
Of the things they do.
Your so sick and tired
Of what it does to you.
Don't hide inside the bottle.
Don't read that sad book.
Face your fears they're prettier than they look.

Face your fears they're prettier than they look.
Those fallen angel's won't give back what the took.
So get down on your damn knees and pray.
Swear to God that you won't give a good damn fuck one day.

Siren Call

Hello again beautiful strangers.

I know I said I'd stop with the poetry and I HAVE. Promise with cherry's on top. But as you would see from earlier blogs I am also aspiring to be a musician. And obviously with this comes song-writing. SOOO every now and then I will be posting my own songs. Hope you like them.

Until then, as Voldemort once said: 'Where is my bloody nose?'

Siren Call

Hush little baby

Don't you Cry.

Don't part those lips and ask me why.

I don't need another utter in my head.

Soon you'll drop heavier than this lead.

It takes just one bullet

Takes just one bullet

To fall.

It takes just one moment

Takes just one moment

To lose it all.

So give me five more seconds

Give me five more seconds

To walk out the door,

And hear the siren call.

Quiet now daddy

Don't let them hear.

Don't kick up a fuss

And bring them near.

I don't need another reason in my brain.

Promise you won't feel such fear again.

It takes just one bullet

Takes just one bullet

To fall.

It takes just one moment

Takes just one moment

To lose it all.

So give me five more sec

onds

Give me five more seconds

To walk out the door,

And hear the siren call.

I don't know how to say why I did it.

Sometimes I wonder why I even did it at all.

I don't know how to say why it happened.

I guess it only takes one

bullet to fall.

I don't know how to say why I did it.

Sometimes I wonder

why I even did it at all.

I don't know how to say why it happened.

I guess it only takes one fucking bullet to fall.