The sea filled in this silence, before you sank those words. And now even in the darkness, I can see how happy you are.

Not only does he get tongue-tied, but he also worries about you shooting him down in flames, no matter what he says to you.
He very much wants you to see the right shapes, but in the past when he's shown you a circle, you've seen a square.
So, does he poke the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and really concentrate, or does he stick to his word and just give the bare minimum, believing that the small talk was just a means to an end.

He's been sitting on this for days now, and it's very unfair of him to do such a thing. You deserve so much better, and it's apparent that you have and are achieving exactly that, regardless of the circles or squares.

When he only gives you the 'answers', he really hopes that you understand that not only is that all he could muster without getting tugged in the wrong direction again, but also, that you all made it pretty clear what your collective thoughts were.

Time serves its purpose in larger doses.
It hasn't done its job yet.

Just take what you need, and be on your way, and stop crying your heart out.

The best place you can ever be, is at peace and within finger touch of being completely happy with yourself and your life.
That's exactly where I am tonight.
There is usually an influence or catalyst involved, but tonight there's no influence from simple alcohol or drugs. But an influence, all the same, from some higher or possibly deeper spiritual thing. And I love that. That there are things at work in this world, this life, this universe, that we can't understand. But if we could only realise that understanding isn't the important thing here. It's acceptance. Acceptance....an open armed welcome....a true embrace.
I don't know the ins and outs of the human brain, but I have acceptance and confidence in it's power and workings.

Earlier today, a client of mine came back for a brief visit to give me a home made chocolate cake (as a thank you) and we shared a kiss on the cheek. And it's things like that, that rekindle my faith in people. Ok, so not everybody....but some people have good, pure good in their hearts.

Some people are just complete and utter shit-bags. But it's wrong to tarnish the entire population with the same bleak brush. Ok, so maybe the good people always come last in the race of life, but I'd much rather pace myself, in tandem with similar thinking people, and cross that finish line in my own good time.

There's no room for elbows in the chest, sneaky trippings, pushing, shoving or the likes.
Winning and coming out on top isn't the be all and end all.
And for all the people who are stood there waiting at the tape, grinning and smirking at the others way behind them....just think how lonely you are up there. Not only that, but also think about how isolated and cold you feel. In reflection, was it all worth it?

Don't judge.
Don't think for other people.
Don't fill in the blanks.
If you do any of the above, then you might as well isolate yourself from the rest of the human race and live your life in a cocoon of second guesses.

The other night, I went out for a family meal.
The couple to the right of our table were mostly sat in silence. The few times they spoke, it was from the girl, who questioned the guy's motives, his dedication to the relationship and his apparent flippant behaviour.
"You haven't told me that you love me for over a year", she said.
He sat there in silence.
I felt like slapping him on the face and telling him to wise up or fuck off. Whatever his decision, it had to be a deep and heartfelt honest one.

The couple behind us were talking about a third party who had caused a rift in their relationship. The guy was brushing it all off with a roll of his eyes and toss of his hand. The girl was obviously deeply hurt. Not only by the cause, but also by his reaction.
As an outsider, I can see exactly what was wrong.
As an outsider, I wish I could have banged their heads together and helped them sort things out.
What the fuck is all this second guessing shit?!?!?!
They left soon afterwards. She was walking a few steps behind him all the way to the exit.

Why is it so easy to see the shit and problems with other people and yet when it comes down to your own life....well....you just can't see it the same. It's like a blinker, or handcuffs, or some kind of transformation into Disney's Goofy; the dumb fucker.
Ego, maybe? Or perhaps the reaction of close friends? Worry and concern what other may thing of you?
Well, fuck all that shit! They don't live your life!
Is this life worth living, if you live it abiding to other people's rules and regulations, judgements and opinions?
The simple answer....
Nope.

This life is your life.
Live it!

You can throw away all those letters, I don't care about what they say. All those sorrys, there's a million reasons why you can't mend me....

Leona....She goes fucking Mahoosive on her latest album.
It's quite brilliant.

She goes mahoosive:
Stop crying your heart out

And then she takes mahoosive and pisses all over it with this:
Broken

I don't know who she uses as song-writers, but they've done a fantastic job of growing Leona into a whole different level of play. It's an album worthy of any challenge to say; Mariah Carey, Alanis Morissette, Whitney, Evanescence, Avril Lavine, Rhianna, Christina, Britney and the likes.

The album's now over, but something is nagging at me. So, I think back. An earworm is forming already. Four more clicks on the mouse and I find it again....

The slow burning gem:
Can't breathe


Last night I bet my brother twenty quid over 'something'. And although last night I may have been over-brimming with confidence, today I can't even begin to think what the bloody bet was over?!
And this morning, I was late for work. That'll teach me to have a good time when it's slightly inconvenient to my life.

Lots more to say, just not right now. Not a good evening for me.
I should be in bed!


....don't even try.

Don't call it a comeback, we'll hold an event in here. This space is beautiful, I'll decide when it is over.

So, don't call it a comeback.

A message to the guy who invented woofers and tweaters.
"You have no idea how much you changed my life. Thank you!"

The best part about being at a gig? Feeling the air being pushed by sound alone. It's amazing. Deep, deep in the stomach amazing!

How about some:

Meck - Windmills (sundan remix)

or

John O'callaghan feat Sarah Howells - Find Yourself (original mix)

or maybe

Robbie Williams - Morning Sun

I'm going round my brother's tonight. We're having a kind of chilled out post birthday kinda thing. Staying over, work tomorrow and I'm almost certainly going to get very, very stoned. I'm planning on introducing him to 'Handbag House' and taking the piss out of him because he text me last night with a "LOL". How many times do I have to tell him; omfg I don't do internat chat shit ffs, roflmao.

Laters x

Water is my eye. Most faithful mirror. Fearless on my breath. Teardrop on the fire of a confession. Fearless on my breath.

It's absolute fucking genius.

The hook, the riff.

You really need to love this.

You shower me with lullabies, as you're walking away. Reminds me that it's killing time, on this fateful day.

The clue is in the song.

I've had two books, some Terry's Orange segments in a big tub, a bottle of Cava and lots of cards. It seems I've been tracked down again. I must up my roots sometime soon-ish.

Only one of my Manager's knew about today. And she kindly mouthed it to me at the beginning of the morning meeting. Sweet! The cakes and doughnuts might have given something away though, but I blamed another sales guy; who's birthday it was two days ago, saying he was on delayed timing. I think it might have worked.

I love my job, but I'm only earning enough money for my own bills and little else. This pisses me off big time. I have debts to pay back, dammit!
I want to earn enough money....to show them all.

My life has changed in such a huge way.
Maybe people change when it's their time to grow up?
Get eaten by the worms, and weird fishes.
Picked over by the worms, and weird fishes.

The keyboards are meandering....swaying....blurring and warping.
Then the piano comes in.
Up and down, up and down, up and down.
Then the voice.
His pitch perfect voice.
"Snot nosed little punk".
How could you not love it, or even just like it enough to give it a few more chances?

I have a sting in my tail, as far as the stars are concerned.
And that's all you need to remember.

And that I'm frustrated that I can't spread my wings on FaceFuck.

Brother of mine, don't run with those fuckers. When will my friend start singing again?

What sort of idiot wears a white top knowing that he's gonna be drinking red wine during the evening?!
Me.
C'est moi!

The chicken wasn't as nice as the duck, but then again, the dog was nowhere near as good as the pussy.
Meow!

You know....sometimes....sometimes a song just comes on, randomly, and it fits perfectly.

And as I listen to this, the plinky piano merges into cello and violin.

And suddenly, the smiles turn to tears.
Just like a loaded gun.

Today didn't end up how I expected....how I wanted.

*update*
I posted this 20 minutes ago, and I can't stop re-reading it and crying.
I
Feel
Pathetic.

Vulnerable.

What's so great about the great depression? Was it blast for you, cos’ it's blasphemy.

I'm not quite sure if Robbie has hit the nail on the head with that lyric, or if it's corny as fuck.
The jury....my jury is out.
But I do so love Robbie. I can't help it.

Still loving "Bodies".
Currently on my first listen of the album, but so far, it sounds really good. It's good to have the cheeky chap back, even though I loved Rudebox!

And I wonder....is "Blasphemy" about the Gallagher brothers?

And in other news; I think my Business Manager hates me, most of the Service team think I'm gay, the cleaner has, since the incident in the cupboard, been overly flirty with me, Cherry Bakewells are the best (except the cherry part, of course!), Tesco have a '2 bags of various filling doughnuts' for 99p!, a woman ahead of me in the queue at the tobacco kiosk in Tesco was giving us all a blow by blow account of when she won £450 on a scratch card, listening to Morrissey makes me feel good, my Nero burning program seems to have failed me tonight, there are dark chocolate Digestives that are calling my name and begging to be dunked in a coffee, I'm wondering about getting an iPhone and The Very Reverend has visited me tonight. Can you tell?

It's...The....Weekend.
It will be good.

This could be the saddest dusk I've ever seen. Turn to a miracle, high alive. My mind is racing, as it always will.

I have no idea where I'll be in five years' time.
Even in one years' time.
I just don't know.

But I do know that I wont be here anymore, living under my parent's roof, eating their Weetabix and sitting on their cushions.

I do look forward to the future, but I don't measure myself against what could or might be. The future is unknown, and in a way, the not knowing is the most exciting part about it. I guess that's why I've always found myself feeling more comfortable being bed-fellows with spontaneity than planning things out. And I know some people don't like that about me, but that's more their problem than mine.
I really, truly don't have a problem with myself.

I have three tattoos, my navel is pierced, I smoke grass occasionally, I live for music, my kids are my life, and....well, that's about it.
It doesn't matter at all where I live, what I do for a job, what car I drive, what my garden looks like, what state my bank account is in or how much sleep I get.
I think when you've experienced a certain amount of what life has to offer, you find yourself more at peace with yourself. And you can forgive your mistakes, misguidance's and stupid decisions.
Everything about life is a learning curve.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with being scared. You just have to grow beyond it.
Grow beyond it.

" My hands tired, my heart aches. I'm half a world away and go."

Would you tell me I was wrong? Would you help understand? Are you looking down upon me? Are you proud of who I am?

My childhood was shit.
A lot of my younger years were filled with beatings, angry voices and very strict discipline. This, in turn led to lots of feelings of guilt, inadequacy and disappointment on my behalf. And I always measured myself against my older brother, who even now shines in my parents eyes when compared to me.
But in no way do I hold anything against him. In fact, I admire him. Envy him, his wife, his life.
The two of us couldn't have lived anymore different lives. We came from the same parents, we share the same blood, we endured the same upbringing....but we have completely different lives.
I'm sat here now wondering if he loves his life as much as I love mine.

I can't remember anytime when either of my parents told me that they love me. It's not an issue. It's not something I dwell upon. It's just something I accept. My mum and dad are not the sort of people who openly express their feelings. They get more passionate about the latest episodes of Eastenders or Holby. It doesn't bother me.

The three people in my family that I feel closest to is my Nan (my Dad's mum), my Grandad (my Dad's dad) and my Aunt (my Dad's sister). My Nan and Grandad have passed on to a better life now. My Aunt is still....as Simple Minds once sang...."Alive and kicking". She's an absolute gem.
My Nan used to get pissed at Christmas times, dress in crazy clothes, play the piano like Les Dawson and make the most amazing Ready Brek in the world. My Grandad used to dress up in my Nan's clothes at Christmas times, do really crap magic tricks in the style of Tommy Cooper, chain smoke, play chess with me and make the most amazing pickled onions. He stood six foot four, was a damned handsome devil as a young 'un and told the most amazing stories about his childhood.
At my Grandad's funeral, I felt naked....alone....lost....abandoned....
I've never cried so much in my life.

I always felt like the 'favourite', if that's the appropriate way to say it, of their grandchildren, maybe because I was the youngest. I don't know. I just know I felt....special in their eyes.

I can't wait to see them again.

My aunt spoilt me rotten. I used to stay with her over the school summer holidays and she would teach me how to perfect cake baking. And let me eat what I wanted, instead of what was good for me. And let me watch anything I wanted. And let me build a sleeping den out of blankets thrown over the chairs and tables in the dining room. And let me go to bed at whatever time I wanted, especially because it was the school summer holidays. And go for walks with me and their dogs to interesting places.
And she makes a wicked chocolate cake too!

I'm closer to my Aunt than I am to my own Mother. How awful is that to admit?! But, it's true. And I felt closer to my beloved Grandad than my own Father. Again, how awful is that?!

My parents....My own Mum and Dad....I don't think we ever connected properly when I was younger. It's much, much better now. They have really helped me out through thick and thin over the last few years, when I've really needed it. And I've never had to run back to them with my tail between my legs to ask or beg for help, they've just offered it.
My relationship with them now is the best it's ever been.
But again....they don't open up about their feelings or emotional perspective on me and my life. They've just....been there.
I just hope that despite everything else....everything that's happened in my life....despite the fact that my brother gives the two of them the perfect Son's Life....that they feel even just a little proud of me.

We think you're a joke, shove your hope where it don't shine.

A brief moment of silence passed between us; the cleaning lady and I.
A split second later, my facial expression changed to one of disbelief and I actually blurted out a "What The Fuck?" to her, this lady who has sixty years or so of life worn into the wrinkles on her face. This lady who comes into our place of work every weekday at five thirty, on the dot. This completely lovable lady who reminds me so much of a character who's been edited out of a Catherine Tate sketch.

As lovely as she is; imagine the warmest and friendliest Grandmother who looks like she would never say "Boo" to a goose.
As thorough at her cleaning job she might be, (and trust me, she's bloody good), there's something very strange, slightly 'wrong' and worryingly sinister about being told by her that last night her son showed her a film clip on his mobile phone, showing a naked man 'bearing down' on a jam-jar. And if that's not enough information to make your jaw drop, she ended her 'blow-by-blow' description by telling us this guy then clenched his cheeks, resulting in the jar (and subsequent jam) making a rather big, and presumably painful mess.

So, yeah. There was a brief moment of silence.
Once I'd realized that she did just actually tell us that story; delivered in much the same manner and matter-of-fact way as if she were telling us that last night she'd had her hair 'done', made supper for her husband and fallen asleep in front of the tv, I had to break the silence....

bedshaped, "I'm not sure which is more worrying, (insert lovely cleaning lady's name here)....the fact that you've just told us about watching a movie clip of a naked guy inserting a jar of jam in his arse and making it 'explode' in such a matter of fact, yet descriptive way....or that your son actually wanted to show you such a thing on his mobile phone, and let's not forget that you agreed to watch it."

She shrugged her shoulders and carried on polishing the desk.

So, yeah.
That's our cleaning lady.
Lovely woman, she is.
Just be warned that asking, "what did you get up to last night then?" may result in something completely unexpected.
I'm not sure I can look her in the eye anymore. And I'm also not sure if it's giggling material or quite disturbing.
One thing's for sure, I won't be asking her that question again anytime soon.

As far as what 'activity' people get up to behind closed doors, each to their own, I say. Even though I fail to understand certain, let's say, sexual practices. How a guy can get any kind of enjoyment or thrill out of 'jam-jar exploding' is beyond me, but hey, doesn't harm anybody else, does it!