Sunday, 1 November 2009

like a hobo from a broken home

here's a couple of things you might like to know:
i like storms, they make me feel safe in my house. and we've just got a new wood burner so it'll be funky and warm in the house. college tomorrow, how ridiculous, breaks are never long enough. today was the first time i have washed since thursday. my bed has more tea stains on it than a tea bag. i've never loved my room more. i still hate halloween. ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble ramble. what's the best part about your past?

Friday, 30 October 2009

bringing you down to my level

enjoy these people as much as i do please

Monday, 26 October 2009

idiotic ramblings

to hold such irrelevance is such a big part of my life it's harrowing. i carry a lot of different names, the scapegoat, the beaver, the arrogant, the skank, but the irrelevant - i just don't like that word.
i have sat here trying to think of something decent to write and i've come up with nothing. i looked at all my past scrambles and they're empty now. i fear that i have lost my talents because i can't put any meaning to any of it anymore. i've climbed my Everest's and what do i have to show for it? a smile? what do i have to seek attention from now? why is it that now i'm happy i feel boring? i feel lost now, i don't like this. i'm going to go tidy my room.

Sunday, 25 October 2009



or would everyone else simply stop being so fucking interesting

Tuesday, 20 October 2009


Headache. Hardy. Hat. Hiding. Hidden. Harry. H-rain.

H is a very useful letter, but I much prefer the letters c,u,n and t.

This has been a horrid day.

Sunday, 18 October 2009

Guess who's back?

i don't know whether it's because i've eaten way too much food or merely had a serious lack of cups of tea today, but for some insane reason i've decided to put some life back into this. my life's changing for the better and i couldn't be more happy as to where i am right now. this is probably all i'm going to write, but if you're reading this would you so kindly cross your fingers so maybe next time i venture on to this blog, my mind explodes in creativity. thank you and goodnight.

Tuesday, 7 July 2009

End of an era.

Either this has become tiresome or merely I have, either way they both result in this blogs almost Armageddon. I might return to it in the near future but for now please envision this as 'dormant'. I'll come back when my writing does.

But for now, like always, I'll leave you with someone elses words because mine will mean absolutely nothing to you, here's hoping these will.

Sunday, 14 June 2009

On a lighter note...

I've had the most incredible weekend. I've spent some time with someone who I thought I'd lost, spent a lot of time with someone I know I won't lose, and faced my fear of crowds and lifts and tubes and Waterloo Station all at once.

I just found this, a letter that was once written to me and I forgot how much I miss this girl! Vow for the summer: FIX MY WRITING (see post below) & FIX MY RELATIONSHIP WITH HER (see writing below).

"I know sometimes I don’t always show how much you mean to me or make out I care as much as i should,one of my many faults but you truly are my hero. You have been through so much and still manage to help me out when I need you and when I can’t think, you think for me. You make decisions for me when I’m not thinking straight and pull me out of the sand I sometimes get my head stuck in. I know you need me right now, and I’m going to be there for you as much as I can. I know i won’t be much help in the sense of making you learn to love yourself but ill try, because your beautiful and its a shame you cant see that."

If she reads this she will realise I fixed her spelling mistakes, I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP IT! I miss you terribly.


I have been looking through my old writing recently, and after leafing through every pointless stanza I've realised something; I do not have one single ounce of desire to be creative unless I am uncontrollably unhappy.

For example:
"so you're sat inside this empty house
and it's becoming almost as empty as you
who would've thought it would come to this
a reality tv show stuck on repeat.

we're just two broken records,
skipping over the best parts

all systems are not go
and you're shutting yourself down
blank faces, blank words and blank clothes
all becoming a permenant fixture
since when had your life become nothing but a machine?
who would've thought
that you're stuck on repeat
stuck on repeat
on repeat

First of all, this problem is one I'm most definately going to fix.
Second of all, I never want to be unhappy again if all that comes of it are pitiful peices of writing such as the one above. That is all.

Sunday, 7 June 2009

I'm going all intellectual on y'all...

This generation is a pile of balls, according to the last generation. All we do is wear hoodies, stab people, eat mcdonalds then scare old people just for funsies. Now that, frankly IS a pile of balls! My gosh everyone rants on about stereotypcial views and prejudice is such a bad thing when really all they do to our generation is exactly that! To be fair I am a judgemental tit, I (quite rightly) abuse anyone who has their whole wardrobe kitted out in Jack Wills or Abercrombie and Fitch simply because I don't like the cult that has derived from it. So I'm definately not a good example yet I'm not bothered about it really. I just saw this secret and thought "You stupid old git, get over it." If they really are worried about how our generation is going why don't they get off their arse and do something about it?! We can either sit here worrying about what we're doing to the world or make an effort.

Life is simply here to be lived.
"What's the point in living if there is no life in it?"

Monday, 18 May 2009


It shone down onto pasty backs drenched in white cream, with a sprinkling of sand dusted over as if it was a final layer. A systematic routine, up down, swim, spread and soar. Never will bread taste so crunchy and never will hydration seem so sweet. The quiet symphony of childrens laughter replace the music reaching your ears and for once dictate an almost tolerable sound. The azure sky was a painting, with the odd placed seagull illustrating the masterpiece further.

Even the wisest of eyes don't deserve this view.

As those same seagulls settle down for their lunch break worthless prose begins to fly between stranger's teeth, yet no one can help but feel intrigued. The distant hum from passing jet skis entice and thrill, and draw unsuspecting bodies to the oh so blatant fun one could spend on them. Challenging the sea's tantrums but inevitably failing to teach even an ounce of discipline.

The seaside it seemed had violently thrown-up infectious happiness.

It had provided the inhabitants with a taste of perfection; and alluring distraction if you will. They all lay down on rectangular shapes of material in a form of a thank you, each and every one willing for their prayers to be answered. On a day like today they will. On a day like today it's angel rays will hit everyone, like a thick cloud of a barbecue - attacking every soul with it's stench. Yet lost souls still scour the depths for a place to belong, or merely feel diving down to the Gods below would be just as effective as appealing to the above.

Small specks of humanity lost in their own sea of confusion. They'll be back soon. They'll be back.

Tuesday, 5 May 2009

This seems quite apt.

Let go and enjoy the ride, except I'm really not enjoying this. Let's all face the harsh reality that we're leaving something we've in a strange way fallen in love with. I, like many others, can't wait to get out of the place - but I think I'm scared. I'm good at being immature, and not really brilliant at being responsible. I know it's only nothing and you're still seen as a kid but seriously; we've all got plans and we're all going to leave eachother and that physically frightens me. So I remove myself. I remove myself from anyone and everyone that I've ever cared about there to make this easier.

For now, knowing I've got a plan is enough.

Mental Block

Words are failing me at the moment - hence the lack of posts. And yet after an hour of staring at this computer screen thinking of something sweet and poetic to write, I'm still stuck. So yes I may be having a long period of complete mental blocks but here's something I really like:

"Cause like you said, this is it. This is life. And I'm in love with you... I think that's the only thing I've ever really been sure of in my entire life. And I'm really messed up right now, and I got a whole lot of stuff I have to work out, but I don't want to waste any more of my life without you in it. And I think I can do this. I mean, I want to. I have to, right?"

God bless Garden State, for saying things I simply don't have the ability to right now. But to be honest I think I would write my whole life in quotes if I could, my words never seem good enough.

Sunday, 22 March 2009

Jade Goody.

This post is to all those pretentious twats who think they give two shits about that fat, racist cow. Do you REALLY care that this woman died of cancer, when there are plenty of other nice and lovely people who've had worse and more gruelling cases of cancer, and also died? I'm not saying she deserved it as I wouldn't wish it on anyone but at least these other people didn't have the nerve to milk their disease for all it's worth.

Why in gods name would you EVER want to lose your dignity like that? Yes she may of already got naked in front of the whole nation, and been a racist twat in front of the whole nation - but having no dignity in death?! Are you sure she didn't get a brain tumour that knocked out her fucking common sense?

Everyone who feels an apparently 'strong' amount of empathy for her, take a look in the fucking mirror and realise you're faking it because you want to look like a good person. You don't care about her, you've never met her and as of today you never will. How about caring about something else closer to home, sweet cheeks?

Tuesday, 17 March 2009


I've had a nasty couple of weeks/month and there's so much I could write about in my awfully bitter style but I think I'm going to refrain from doing that - I need to keep to last months promise.
I'm not even going to write anything stomach-turningly sweet or deep, meaningful and poetic either.

A few others and I have really just needed a few laughs, and if you need them too the following two videos will cheer you up instantly. I hope they make you feel as giggly as I did.

Oh and P.S, here's my life story:

Wednesday, 4 March 2009

My Secret, what's yours?

WELL! In Janurary/February time our drama class at my school were asked to devise a small performance to enter into the Arts Festival - a showcase of the schools musical/dramatic/dancing talents. Katie Hurrell, Izzy Staw and I came up with this idea of 'My Secret', and the video is very much self explainatory. A lot of people who wanted to didn't get to see it, and a lot of people I wanted to see it didn't either. So basically: here it is. Enjoy lads and ladies!

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Judge a cover by it's book.

This a narrative I have to write for my English c/w, and I sort of like it. I'm going to pretend I posted this in March so it doesn't mess up my '3 posts a month' pattern.
We had to base it on someone being stuck in a cuboid and couldn't get out - for my narrative I tried to make it so the authorial voice's imagination is the cuboid. Tell me what you think?

Look at him, sitting down, leafing through his tattered book, caressed more often than my own lips. He seemed so engrossed in his own world and unfazed by the low flying seagulls. This man, sitting peacefully opposite me in my local park could easily have been one of the most enticing and thrilling people I’d ever laid eyes on and he was merely reading a book. He reminded me of a pirate; big leather boots (I’d say he was just hitting a size 11), scruffy un-brushed hair, a sheepskin coat, plain white shirt, worn down jeans, and those eyes. Oh gosh, those eyes. He looked in his late twenties but along with the way he cupped his stubble ridden chin with his dirty hands and squinted his piercing blues, he portrayed a lifetimes of stories.
I wanted to sit there all day and study his body language and drink every ounce of him in. I sort of expected him to pull out a guitar from under the bench and start singing – it would be an explanation for his rough ended fingers. This sunny, cloudless day was so picturesque and I took immense pleasure in knowing I had the best view in this humdrum town. I took my eyes off of him for just a second to take a glance at the now terribly boring other inhabitants of the park and I couldn’t deny the fact that they were nothing. Compared to him they were the most dire, worthless and pointless people to grace my world.

Monday, 16 February 2009

St fucking Valentine.

This man, and I mean this when I say it, is a royal cunt. He actually has no fucking idea what 'love' is. For instance he thinks it should only be shown to your loved one ONCE a year?! If you bloody well love someone you should show it to them as much as possible, no questions asked. Why shower them with revolting flowers, chocolates that they probably don't even like, over-sized cards which lets face it, are the biggest embarrassment a woman could ever behold and ridiculous teddies that'll probably be given to the dog when you've gone home. If I'm entirely honest with you all I see no real point in a Hallmark induced holiday that quite frankly makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth.

This Valentines day I spent the day with my best friend and had a really, really nice time. This could've happened any other day, it just so happened we arranged it on the 14th and let me tell you, my god would I have preferred it to an awkward meal that you both would pay good money for just so it could end.

I don't like St Valentine/Cupid/Twat face, and I certainly don't like the idea of a grown man still in diapers being in control of my love life.

Fuck you very much my dear.

P.S All my posts next month will not be as bitter, I promise.

Thursday, 12 February 2009

You've made your decision, now please leave me alone.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder/weaker. You're far away but close to me/with someone else.


You think I'm weaker but I'm only getting stronger. Did you seriously think that your pathetic, empty words were ever going to affect me? They've been said before and they'll be said again, and just like yours they'll be as meaningless as a Valentines card. This isn't bitterness, you're the epiphany of bitterness my sweet.

You're having second thoughts? Think again.

Monday, 26 January 2009

Anytime at all.

3 in the morning drunken phone calls are not enough anymore.

Sunday, 18 January 2009

Another party, another realisation.

Left in the spare room like a spare part. Not wanted here and know it. Need a hug, need a friend, need some fucking sympathy. There's not much of that to go around for a spare part, though. The lyrics of 'Hand Me Down' play on loop in head. Mistake. Mistake. Mis-takes. And tears.

Cry YOUR fucking heart out. YOU'RE used goods now sweetheart.

Saturday, 10 January 2009

"Sometimes I don't mind not being able to go back to who I used to be."

Living through past memories, going over and over until I've bled them dry. Soon they'll be nothing. My words will hold no meaning and my experience will all be just what I've seen in films. I can define parts of myself from my past but where's the line between that and the past defining me? If I speak words of wisdom it's due to self obsession, If I offer gestures of kindness I don't expect it to be taken without something in return, and if I love you - don't expect it to be anything more than a need for you to love me back. I've grown tired of being lodged in a past where I'd become nothing but routine.

I am not my family nor friends.
I am not my successes nor failures.
I am not my regrets.

Hello 2009.