Post story telling #1 (We must catch up)

I'm batman.
The world is a far, far rosier and brighter place compared to last week; it's true to say that my predicament is practically identical, time is a great healer though, don't you think? I felt so riled and hurt that I had to internally chew and digest on my brains patterned thoughts in an attempt to reach a state where I could actually talk to people about the painful goings on of the last week. I acknowledge the fact that my behaviour is an antithesis to the more standard reaction to affliction and anguish whereby a person can only feel better by getting things off their chest by making use of varying states such as tearfullness, anger and also disbelief. They will unload these emotions onto their nearest and dearest -Rightfully so in my opinion- until they have cried, talked and screamed all the negativity out in a short term purge. I tend to suppress the emotion which means not thinking about it, definitely not talking about an incident until a few days have passed. A cooling off, containment period as it were. Why fight the enemy head on when they're freshest and at their most strong?
Enough

The Rave
No less than 2 Saturdays ago was the day I had been looking forward to all week. Rave day! As standard nobody really had a clue as to the location of the rave, having a mobile voice mail box number to ring at 21:00 on the night. I felt tense in the hours leading up during the day, mainly due to the situation I knew I was going to find myself in later. You see, on this night I was the lynchpin of the main group of people that was made up of 3 separate groups of people whose only connection to all the other groups was my good self. Add this to the fact that one of these groups was made up of friends I knew at college and hadn't really spoken to in over a year or two and another group was made up of the girl I met at the bus stop and her mates. (See "Whacky Wednesday" entry for full details of this tale) Nobody was punctual to the arranged meeting stop and so I found myself underneath the railway arch opposite the Thirsty scholar drinking a 70cl bottle of Sainsbury's white rum that I had lifted earlier in the day. The first character that approached me was a late twenties scally type individual. He had the haggard face of someone who did too many drugs, a bit like that guy from Heartbeat with the acne scars. A light was what he wanted and was something I could not provide. However, I enjoyed eyeing up the rollie in his hand and decided to walk alongside him, striking up enough chat to give me legitimate access to his bind. As we walked in search of a light, without even pausing in his stride he bent down and grabbed a half empty lager bottle off the steps near revolution and started to unashamedly swig from it. That could have been a Tramps Pissing pot mate! We exchanged alcohol for cigarettes. He kept going on about how long a cheque would take to clear. Oh, and about how great crack and smack were............
I went back to my standing place under the bridge, still no one had arrived. I'd been making conversation on and off with the bouncer for the scholar. He was stony faced but wasn't entirely brain dead and catatonic and so remnants of a conversation transpired in which he almost smiled. I foolishly viewed him as an ally against the world until he started acting all big and hard when his bouncer friend arrived.
"Does your mother know you're out dressed like that?"
'Er, no.... She's in Bury'
"Good, 'cause you look like a right cunt"
Tee hee hee.
I was wearing a white shirt with vertical stripey lines, some sawn off jean shorts with a rancid patch. (not my pants or patch) Ok, so I was wearing coloured, stripey, odd socks but it was till uncalled for. The DJ inside the pub was the Manc from ritz who doesn't have long hair. It was a fuckin' rock night anyway. How dare I be abused! Fuckin' bouncers. Talk about the sex divide on display to the max.
'oh, you're a girl in a short skirt that I have no fucking chance with anyway but because i'm a big hard bouncer I think women love me. They're not being all huggy and friendly because I have power that I can, and often do, abuse. They love me, not because I get free entry. They'd talk to me if I was in civilian clothes'
Wake up you fat, empty headed, drug peddling, conversation starved Gimpanzees. You get your kicks out of treating all other non-boucner men like shit because you can twat "everyone." Oh except when a gang decides to have a pop and you shit your pants. Someone take an uzi to Jilly's and mow down the short, mouthy one with jet black hair. He barred me for opening a door. Yep, opening a door. The main entrance to the club where everyone walks through. You figure it out.
Anyhoo, I went back to my spot across from that nasty little bouncer man and i'm still tucking into my delicious rum. A middle aged, rough looking guy approaches from the left carrying lots of shopping bags, placing himself down on the raised platform. I think he was Scottish.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts at me whilst making the 'drinky drinky' motion.
I pretend to ignore as I find this to be an extremely rude way of requesting something that isn't yours off someone you've neevr even met before or even greeted with a courteous hello.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts, repeating the same action.
'what? what do you want?'
"drink"
'Oh, you mean you want some of this drink?'
"yes"
'Now, what do you say' said in a patronising, teacher-esque tone
"please, thank you, oh please"
I moved towards him, deciding to grant him the priviledge. He chatted some bollocks abotu his wife which I mainly ignored. The man was sort of half collapsed on this ledge. Suddenly, he leaps up, bends his back over with his head facing my mid rif and charges me in the stomach! I immediately dodge causing him to fall to the floor spilling his shopping everywhere. The pathetic creature then starts whining and calling me over
"come help me, come help me"
er, no. I'm quite charitable but you took the piss there mate.

Ah, the lirbary is shutting. more on this story next time.

"Bouncebackability"

A term that is going to make it into the brand spanking new dictionary according to my friend who I hate. I'd like to pretend that I'd obtained two V.I.P tour passes for the Eastlands to which I'd invite her along for the day. When we were on the pitch I'd let her enjoy a moment or two, maybe even a lap of honour or a kissing of the turf. Sooner or later I'd pounce, handcuffing her to one of the goal posts after which I'd force feed her Joey Barton's sweaty, stinking socks until she choked and suffocated. I'd then invite a pack of Un*ted shirt wearing southerners to defile and rape the fresh corpse.


Thursday:
I'd agreed to attend Nil by Mouth, a night in its infancy that dwells in the room above Zumebaa* ("trendy" and "cool" refurbished Zumbar.....) First I visited the much more commendable establishment that is the temple and met my friend Molio. J. My condition was manic, enthusiastic and we met two Israeli guys from Fallowfield who were pretty safe. Their hatred of muslims was a tad shocking if not to be expected; we tried to avoid any further conversations regarding religion and/or Palestine as I would have had to kick off with some gob action.

When Fergatron and Dan English donned the decks the night really started to take off at Nil by Mouth as is normally the case. Ending the night on "4" by Aphex was a good call and needed to happen. As soon as Jezanne appeared on the scene it became obvious that she was feeling, well, let's say a little bit randy! Hugging each other is fine, I think people should hug each other more often; this time there was a bit more of an over friendliness that made me think "Ah, hang on a minute." I was feeling fruity and enjoyed dancing with her. Because I was practically sober my endurance dance levels were at a low. As I took one of my multiple rests Jezanne came and sat near me..... practically on me.
"Can I have a kiss?" came the question I was expecting to here.
My initial reaction was, 'Agh, don't really want to do this.' Not because I don't like the girl or think she is attractive. Indeed, earlier in the year I had contemplated moulding her into a fuck buddy type role but had decided against it.
The problem is I don't really view kissing as no big thing. It's intimate and special to me and should be shared between people who care about each other or who have only recently met but find themselves INCREDIBLY turned on by one another. I care about jezanne as a friend, no more, and we'd known each other for over a year so any initial spark had extinguisghed. It was mates kissing mates because they are mates kind of thing. I could think of no negative antiphon, instead deciding I would allow the kiss knowing that I would not enjoy it. Hey prezto, I didn't! It felt forced and awkward, I didn't know what to do with myself afterwards. Jezanne invited me back to her place at the end of the night & I found myself in a veritable pickle. A drunken girl always thinks that with enough cajoling and enough kissing us weak minded men would crumble to their evil whims. The bus journey home containing only the two of us - Thanks to ViceMolRoy and co buggering off in a taxi - turned into a 20 minute justification of why I wanted to go home alone and not indulge my quill in her ink well. Yes I have been thinking about sowing my seeds but with random people that I may never have to see again. Not familiar faces and characters in the saga of my life. It made me feel very uncomfortable. Flattery was felt because someone actually liked me and displayed an interest. Complications would have obviously arisen. One party may have wanted it to continue in whatever way shape or form after the act for instance. I've seen the volatileness of women, I like to keep it at bay.


I've not even got onto Saturday or the horrors of Monday and Tuesday.

I don't really want my friend dead, this separation of our two beings is turning out quite rancorous. We keep lashing out in an attempt to hurt the other.
I've crashed after earlier in the week, piecing myself back together, I'm the only one who is able too and I can't rely on anyone else. Even if I want them close to me.

I stroke the sun, I comb the sea floor.

Well, well, well.
Wellity, wellity, wellity.
Over a week has passed; a week in which I should have updated numerous times over various days instead of giving one weekly post that will be diluted in emotion, content, and volume. I'm quite reluctant to undertake the seemingly mammoth effort of revealing all here as it's been an emotional Big Dipper of a week.
Up and down, side to side, round and round then back again.

Screw it. It all seems too painful to divulge at this juncture.
Instead?
A group of professionals asked children aged 4-8 the question, "what is love?"

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over
and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all
the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is
different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on
shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of
your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy -age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she
takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired
of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy
and
Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop
opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with
a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he
wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are
still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.
I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and
smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody . You don't see anyone
else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still
says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left
him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her
old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and
little stars come out of you." (what an imagination)
Karen - age 7

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't
think it's gross."
Mark - age 6


"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it.
But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8

And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once
talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest
was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the
man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard,
climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked
what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just
helped him cry"

Football + beer + wine = Ejection & Smashing

Sunday saw the much anticipated clash between Chelsea and Manchester City; as usual myself and ArtBlu were sat on our very own sofa at Robinskis. There was more excitement in store than usual, City being the only team to have beaten the premiership leaders this season in their previous encounter at the Eastlands. We played valiantly, together as a unit and with some expert saves form James we held the leaders to an impressive, hard fought and well deserved 0-0 draw. I'd already been bought 3 pints and when ArtBlu declared that we were going to carry on drinking as a celebration I was more than happy. A trip to fuzion noodle bar was also declared where we ordered a bottle of wine, ordered our food and ate it accordingly. Twas a lovely meal and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable day so far. I sparked up a cig and was instantly asked to extinguish in the Non-smoking restaurant environment. My friend engaged herself in negotiations with the staff enquiring whether we could go outside for a legal smoke, then come back and finish our wine. From my standpoint the request was asked in a friendly and altogether polite manner. This shaved haired manc who was eating alone, covered in ridiculous sovereign rings, (one of which was a dollar ring!) starts having a go claiming she had been "mouthy" and "rude" to the staff! A little row ensued. We ended our cigs and went back for the wine. ArtBlu tried to make peace with this guy but he was being a twat, claiming he could run to town and back without being tired. Town from Fallowfield isn't that far anyway, hardly an impressive boast anyways. "I'll throw both of you threw that window." Hmm.

Everything starts getting a little hazy. I remember throwing onions across the table at my friend (she detests onions) along with noodles that had spilled onto the table. Pretty low behaviour towards someone who has paid for your food and drinks. She then decides to throw my glass of wine over me at which point I get up, go round to her side finding myself engaged in some type of wrestle which in turn knocks her glas of wine over the table. A member of staff comes over, "Right, that's it, on your way." Ejected from a restaurant! In our inebriated dispositions we both found this amusing and merrily headed to One-stop to get some cash for bruins. I started being a bit of an annoying twat inside the shop, trying to wind up my friend for shits and giggles. For some reason we were both legging it towards Bruins, ArtBlu slipped and took a tumble, injuring both of her knees and forehead in the incident. A demand for more beer was made and granted. How it all happened I don't know but we got involved in a drunken row, both of us saying some really nasty, hurtful things to try and upset the other one. She picked up my phone and threw it across the room where it landed on the floor in tact. I immediately grabbed her phone off the table and launched it against the wall where it smashed into what seemed like a million pieces. Everyone in the bar (about six people) turn to see what's going on and an upset ArtBlu trying to find all the pieces of her phone. I was still so angry that I didn't bother to help and chose to remain in my seat. My hair was pulled and I was hit. Barlady approaches me telling me I'd better leave because I'd seriously pissed her off. I make my way to Macetrix's house to collect my computer, destroying some car wingmirrors along the way. As the night progressed I sobered up, recalling more and more about the night and feeling extremely guilty and shitty. I had no phone credit so I sent a SMS online making my apologies, receiving a similar one back in the morning. I went to uni, we met and made up, both apologising. Her phone is back together although a little battle scarred. Turns out the manager has barred me from Bruins. Boots and Bruins, when will we meet again. I'm not the type of person who you'd expect to get ejected and barred from places, keeps happening though.

Jobnificent(!), Jobray(!), Jobtastic(!)

This morning I successfully fought and subsequently beat my atrocious sleep self. All he wants is sleep, sleep and more sleep and he will never rest until he gets what he wants, rest. You
KNOW you need to be awake at a certain time for a very important appointment, convincing yourself before you nod off that it will be upheld. When morning comes you're paralysed, constantly hitting snooze, waiting until the very last moment when you either decide to get up or go back to sleep. If you get up you've left yourself so little time that you find yourself in a mad dash rush against impossible odds. If you go to sleep you wake up hours later feeling guilty, shitty and even more tired. Well today I found myself outside Westminster house a full half hour before my scheduled job interview so two fingers to you, nefarious sleep self. We'll meet again, the same way we do every morning. I knew that arriving ten minutes before the interview was in good form, thirty minutes beforehand though seemed a tad sad and desperate. Would I employ someone who arrived that early?
No is the answer.
To a genuine prospective emplyer though the person who has got up nice and early, had their breakfast, planned their outfit the night before and found the place within good time shows numerous qualities that a tight job ship needs. I'd feel dirty though and I guess I just don't want to be tarred with the non-tardy brush. After assessing all my options I decided that my best bet was to go down to the diddy HMV on Market street and treat myself to a few Dvds. I deserved it after all having managed to get out of bed on time. The elephant man, final destination 2 and Ferris Bueller will sit nicely on the other 3 Dvds I treated myself to from yesterday. I don't even have one penny to my name and am operating on my own economic system of Dvds. Each dvd is worth between £2-3. I'm quite tempted to go into gaffs later and make a request to swap a pouch of baccy for a dvd. When I think of having my hair cut next week in my head it costs 2 dvds instead of £5. I felt nothing this time as I stole except a feeling of disguts towards the staff at HMV for letting me get away with it.

I arrived at the halifax ten minutes early as plannned and was seated amongst the other applicants. Some engaged in small talk chat with one another to keep the nerves at bay, others seemed trapped in their own personal hell, the more that time passed the more of their cool they lost. I was also sat there thinking to myself. I knew that I should probably have been thinking about the upcoming interview, preparing model answers to the questions that i knew would be asked but I couldn't be bothered. Instead I was mulling over going back to HMV for another run, deciding against it as my blue coat is very conspicious but promised myself a saturday visit where I may want as much as upto 10 dvds. There was a part of me that knew I had got the job before I met my interviewer and went in to the interview room, before I'd even woken up that day even. An informal chat followed where I warmed to my interviewer and vice versa. Job in pocket I left, knowing that out of 15 vacancies one would surely be mine. Ok, I lied in the interview, telling them what they wanted to hear. Hey, that's life. A few hours later I received the confirmation call, I start on the 14th, that so very special of special days.............
When I had received full confirmation I felt empty inside, a bit disappointed and low. Did I really want a job which had been so easy to obtain. The interview put me under no pressure at all, comparable to a friendly chat in a boozer with a nice chap. I'd offered nothing in way of skills and abilities, in other words I'd got a job that anyone with an iota of a brain could have got. Thanks for making me feel so special halifax. God, I hate them.

Being kicked out of the library now, bye.

I am the sandwich provider

I forgot to mention on Tuesday that I visited the whitworth art gallery on Sunday afternoon. I wasn't aware that it was actually a part of Manchester University's campus and although it is an inferior gallery compared to the main Manchester art gallery with a lot of the galleries being refurbished it was well worth it. The phoenix brass quintet from the Royal Northern College of Music played a free concert, performing one of the hardest quintet pieces known to man. Good show boys. The tuba player was especially impressive, I'd never seen such complex playing from what is normally an instrument with a relatively boring, simple, back seat part.
Has anyone else heard this phrase before, "Gay dress, empty belly?" It was written on one of the plaques inside the textile exhibition relating to the fact that certain medieval folk chose to buy ornamental, colourful, fancy pants clothes rather than feeding themselves. Also, I wasn't impressed with the work of Ben Nicholson but am told he was one of the most influential 20th century artists blah blah usual arty bollocks talk.

Today I was sat in the God awful food court on Market Street eating my munch from Marks and Spencers. I had a mozzarella and pesto baguette type sandwich left, after my in depth chat with T the day before I decided to find a big issue seller and give to them said sandwich. Delivering it to a man in St. Annes square, he was grateful and it made me feel wholesome, as if it made up for some of my sins. I then made a pact with myself that for every sandwich I pilfer, one will be given to the homeless cause. My stomach was still full yet I wanted to give more so back I went and collected 3 more breaded treats and delivered them. One was hoisin duck and another a sweet potato and 3 bean mexican wrap. I wondered if they were used to such high quality food but decided not to enquire. I simply greeted them, asked if they were hungry and then left. It's a better idea than simply giving money for socially unacceptable drugs, you know which I mean. I made sure that at least one of the sandwiches was vegetarian and it made me think, are there any vegetarian homeless people? Obviously some would have been before their misfortunes but is it viable to uphold such values when food is a scarcity? Possibly they eat whatever they can get their hands on, vowing to return to the non-meat world if they get back on their feet.
Food for thought I'm sure.......

oh dear

Fuzzy kind of weekend / / Banished from Boots

It's been a while since I posted here. Not through lack of trying but due to the laziness of the Manchester Metropolitan university library staff who insist on closing at 16:30 and 13:00 on Fridays and the weekend. Tut. That doesn't fit in with my sleeping schedule at all.
Six by seven haven't sent me the promised e-mail containing their reaction to Made in China's 5 track demo. My belief in them is still as rigid as it was when i knew that they would attend big hands, despite certain members of the group losing faith.

Fuzzy logic at the music box on Friday was a brilliant night, best one of 2005 so far plus the last few months of last year. Dan English set is noteworthy as well as his predcessor who i think might have been Sam? Quality Breaks and DNB electro. A shout out must also go to Mickey Mouse and Mr. Smiley for their contribution.

Watched Citizen Kane for the first time on Sunday. It made the section in Family guy make a lot more sense, annoyed me as well. For those who aren't familiar there is a point in FG when it is mentioned that Peter got into trouble for renting out videos, then taping over them with his own ending. The start of CK shows Charles Foster Kane on his death bed, dropping one of those glass ball snow shaker things and uttering his last words, "Rosebud." For the rest of the film reporters interview everyone they can to try and find out the identity of this mystery Rosebud. You see this first sequence in FG, then Peter cuts in, "It was his childhood sled when eh was a boy. There, I just saved you an hour and a half of crap." Ok, that quote wasn't exact, you get the gist. The film shows that even when you have amassed one of the largest fortunes in the world you can still feel lonely, unhappy and unfulfilled. Yes, he was powerful but he had no true friends, nobody he was close to and both of his marriages were a sham. I neither liked nor hated him though. Good film.

On Monday after collecting my lunch from Marks and Sparks I made my way to the big Boots on Market street in order to collect some hair sculpting product. I made a schoolboy error of making eye contact with the security guard and I could tell that he was watching me. A big part of me told me to put it down and hit one of the other Boots stores but anothe part of me was getting excited at the challenge of getting away with it even though staff in the shop KNEW that I was taking it. I decided to lure him in and see what would happen, pretending to peruse some other items in the hair section before making my way to the food section to collect myself a cream egg. I made my way out of the Cross Street entrance and instantly forgot that I had committed an apparent "crime" and stated unwrapping my cream egg, dropping it on the floor in the process. This pissed me off no end and so I carried on, turned right back onto Market Street racking my brain trying to think of another place to get a cream egg from. I see the guard from Boots about 5 feet away from me on a direct course for me. Contemplate legging it, no point over a pot of gel and so remained where I was intent on playing the dumb fucker.
"What did you just nick from there?"
'nothing'
Starts going through my pockets and finds the trevor sorbie moulding mud in my pocket.
"where'd you get this from?"
'boots earlier today.'
"I just sin you take this innit, come with me"
Grabs me by my coat and starts pulling me through the store
"I'll slap you, I'll fucking slap you" were his words to me, overreaction if you ask me.
Anyways, i'm taken in a lift to the loss prevention room where there was quite a sound guy. Security guy goes back to his job and i'm left in the office. Ask if I can see the CCTV footage of myself, pretty cool actually. I admit my guilt over the cream egg and we both laugh at how petty and pointless this whole affair sees. I'm given a signed letter banning me from the store for "unacceptable behaviour" and we both laugh at the stupidity of the guard who had been told i'd gone out the cross street entrance and was walking up and down Market Street looking for me like a lost little shephard.

Dear .......,

I am writing to inform you that you are no longer permitted to enter this store because of your unacceptable behaviour.
Please note that if you disregard this letter we shall not hesitate to take legal action against you without further warning.

Yours faithfully,
.......



A few words to say mate, I lured you into my little game, you didn't outsmart me in any way. If I had actually given a shit about stealing stuff I would have taken a left and scarpered. Ok, I got distracted by my cream egg. It was my own nonchalance that lead to my capture, you contributed nothing you fucking GIMPANZEE. Would have liked to have seen you slap me you A grade cunt. Who do you think would have been in jail? A guy who stole a £6 tub of moulding wax or the have a go security guard who lays someone else. You cock jockey. I'll be back, right under your fucking nose you sack of pigs' swill. MUNCHER