Don't take me this way

It's sometimes when I wonder why exactly I'm a misanthrope - or rather, try to be.
People, however. As a collective, as an entity are stupid.

Example: Someone who is insecure about themselves and their family life and decides to pin everything on their friends thus making their parents hate said friends. Or rather, make it seem apparent that they do. It's frankly ridiculous.

Of course, their are some exceptions and they know who they are. But still, people are dicks.

Isn't humanity wonderful? Nah. I'll tell you what is wonderful.

Coffee and a certain person who seems to surpass humanity in her existance.

Headlights on the hillside...

Some call it a gift - the ability to read another. There are somedays when I see this apparent trait as one. But, in reality. It's just guesswork and paranoia. Just thought I'd throw that out there.

I admit my flaws more readily then others, in fact - I hardly have anything but flaws to say about myself at all. Negativity and pessimism are second nature to me. If you're reading this and expecting some blog post about how I'm going to change this, jog on. My pessimism is my shield and my negativity is my armour. I can't possibly change these, they define and control me to the point where they are second nature.

Perhaps I'm just too comfortable in my whirlpool of despair and self loathing. Perhaps my strange undefinable complex is just...who am I and that others who constantly ask me to be optimistic should just go away.

'Always look on the bright side of life' is a good song, sure, but the only time I'd look at the bright side is if it was a fire burning my home to pitiful cinders.

What a happy post.

Back to Joy Division!

Anything Goes?

As many an old timer goes - “this modern music these days is just noise”. Of course, not all of us lived in that wonderful era of music we call the 20s - 50s, a time of Cole Porter, Buddy Holly, Bobby Darin, Muddy Waters and many more amazing musicians. Most of us who read this would have grown up in the Nineties, a decade ravaged by bad Euro-pop and Geri Halliwell wearing the Union Flag. But the nineties are also known for Radiohead. Blur and thus Damon Albarn, the resurgence of British icons such as Paul Weller and Morrissey oh and Oasis, for those imaginative souls out there…

But the ‘Noughties’ as those with no brain call this era is a time where literally, anything goes. Good song writers who once knew better lines now only four letter words when writing songs. Music has become an industry of faux advertisement and cross platform promotion for media. The most obvious example - Justin Bieber, is a young pop icon who probably does not write his own material, sing using his own voice or play any instrument. But no one takes him seriously as an artist. As a product, he sells like wildfire. His record label know this and he has hit the target market massively and there are many more of this gone and buried and even more to come. But this decade has spawned some utter genius. Bands such as Mastodon, an American progressive metal group continue to prove that uniqueness and talent are very much alive - their album Crack The Skye is a musical masterpiece. It also saw the resurgence of folk in the brilliant band Mumford & Sons, the Britpop scene coming back (did it even die?) with Kasabian, Muse and the utterly unique and unquestionably awesome Gorrilaz.

The music industry may be a corporate machine akin to a man pushing people through a sausage machine and feeding it into the minds of more meat filled talent less souls, but a lot of the bands around are utterly genius. All one needs to do is look beyond the mainstream charts.
Looking at a song on you tube?
Go click that random band on the related videos and listen. If you don’t like it, click again. You might find something you’ll enjoy. And they might turn out to be your next favourite band. Music is not about the same old band over and over again, it is about experimentation. Stick with the old yet learn from the new.

"The World is your oyster."

Above is a cliched statement. Many were probably told this, but I surely wasn't. People are told by their parents that they can do great things, that they are special. That they have the power to do amazing things. (I wasn't, but eh is not being disillusioned a problem now?) The key to this is simple. You are born, you go to school, you go to college, you go to university. You get a job. People try and escape the system but ultimately they can't.

You can't just leave university and do something amazing. Well, not strictly speaking, you could do but the majority of the time, no you're a generic student who drinks lots and has a degree and no idea what to do with it. Maybe you'll attempt to fulfil your dreams.

When I was growing up, I wanted to be many things. A dinosaur, for instance. A spaceman. A soldier, a Space Marine, an officer, a lawyer, a detective. Indeed I'm still rather childish about the whole thing. No idea where I'm going.

But at the end of the day, regardless of the endless institutions and drawn out paths. The world is your oyster. Work hard and you can do amazing things. I don't get those with no motivation, the lazy ones with no attempt to make a future who believe they are doomed to work retail. Work against it, study, do projects, anything.

Spend hours designing that subspace laser cannon. Then you'll get noticed.

"We're going to do this forever, aren't we?"

History and fiction are all full of stories of great men and great enemies. Conflicts between two men or women of such greatness that they sound only true in works of fiction - and in some cases - they are works of fiction. Holmes and Moriarity, Batman and the Joker, Superman and Lex Luthor, Barney the Dinosaur and Adolf Hitler (okay this one isn't true but eh, somewhere on the internet there probably is a picture of Barney battling Hitler).

But history has produced some fantastic match ups, ones produced which creates such fantastic conflicts and match ups. Wellington and Napoleon, Scipio Africanus and Hannibal Barca, Montgomery and Rommel and many more. All of this epicness regarding people and arch enemies makes me want a nemesis. A comical one whom I battle on the back of speeding trains or on the wings of biplanes. Man that would be awesome.

It was just a thought, though....

Hurr.

So, this is not my usual post. I am in a pleasant mood, listening to pleasant music while thinking of pleasant things.



So come and join me feeling pleasant.

A Manic Day Out.

Wake up, alarm didn’t go off. Or you didn’t hear it. Roll out of bed, leaving that awful mess of a room behind. Walk dazedly into the bathroom, clean teeth, fall asleep in shower. You didn’t sleep properly again. Train leaves in fifty minutes, get ready or you’ll miss it. Grab money, bag and get dressed. Don’t shave again, too tired. Leave house, not saying a word to the parents who sit awkwardly in the kitchen talking politics and drinking weak coffee. Walk towards the bus top and stand next to a few old people. They smell a bit like pine trees. Get on the bus and pay, the old people didn’t get on. Sit on the bus.

Journey is dull, past the same old buildings, architecture trying to remind you of places long past and childhood memories but you are used to that wooden cabin and the steel fences. Go past an abandoned and fenced off train yard, covered in day old snow and brown mush. More like it, you think. Get off the bus and hurry through the town centre. The same old people walk past, carrying the same old things (Thatcoupleonthebenchisn’tactuallylookingandtalkingaboutyoustopthinkingtheyare). You swear you just walked past the same group of people but then you remember they all look the same. Walk past old girlfriends’ sister. Greet them awkwardly and hurry off towards the train station. Cross roads, don’t look, don’t care. No traffic anyway. The train station is in front. Reminds you of some awful block of flats and a mess of glass and dull grey stone. Walk inside. You’re not actually catching a train or going anywhere, you just liked to feel like you’re going somewhere. Stand around, walk off. Check phone, creepy girl text you again. Ignore it and carry on. Start remembering just how creepy the girl can be and hurry off feeling that you’re being watched. You are, there’s a CCTV camera tracking you but they always do that. The guard probably isn’t watching, he’s probably reading some poorly written rag while sipping coffee out of a plastic coffee. You now want coffee and then the tiredness hits in. That week of little sleep kicks in and you feel like everything is really slow. It is, the homeless man in front is walking really slowly. Ease past him and notice he’s listening to an iPod. Carry on, hear sirens. They aren’t after you why would they be, but then again you are crazy. That planes a bit low you think, duck instinctively. You’re insane.

Walk through the same muddle of faces and obese creatures. Shops are surprisingly full, tons of teenage girls trying to look twenty and buying cheap clothes which won’t last a week, like their relationships.
Head home, get on the bus and show the driver that day rider ticket you bought. He smiles and you sit down and smell coffee again. Put headphones in, Pink Floyd makes it all better. You stop thinking and start day dreaming of the songs, their colours beating through your mind. Then listen to Radiohead and start noticing the things around you. Go into bag, take out rubix cube and try to solve it. Man looks across and smiles. Looks like he’s having trouble at home, tired eyes and constantly fiddling with his ring finger. He goes into a wallet and looks at a picture. Maybe he lost his wife. Look down when he looks across. Didn’t see you, good. Don’t want people thinking you’re nosey. Not nosey, just bored. Solve rubix cube again. Get off bus, wrong stop. Walk anyway. Need the exercise. Go home, walk in. Parents have swapped places and don’t notice you. They are like an old painting and you can see the cracks in the oil. You want to paint again.

Paint again, don’t know what you’re painting. Ends up being this mess of gears and abstract shapes. Hide it under your bed, don’t like parents seeing your work and commenting. Know they look anyway. It’s five o’clock, dinner soon. Eat dinner, don’t say a word as your parents sit awkwardly. Ask yourself if they actually exist outside the kitchen. They watch that awful Australian soap while you poke at the mess of mince and potato on your plate. You hate Shepherds Pie but you get it every week. Turn on computer, go on the same old social network sites and sit staring for a few minutes at what people have said. You don’t care, see some of your friends have posted amusing things. Laugh to yourself and leave the computer again, bored again. Pick up that week old copy of Times to do the puzzles, you’ve done them all. You have college work to do, so you start it. Then look at your saved history, you’ve done it all. Just haven’t handed it in. You say to yourself, ‘must hand it in’ but you’ll forget.

It’s later now and you can’t remember the last two hours. Step into bed and lie there. You won’t sleep again but you try anyway. Dad walks in and asks you to walk the dog, You already have, he doesn’t believe you. Ignore him and try to sleep. Fall asleep, it’s five o’clock. Gotta be up at six.

Wake up, alarm didn’t go off. Or you didn’t hear it.