Barb

Embers of, twinges of, sparks of sorting it out. A sudden retreat, checking out...

HEY KIDS, WHY NOT GROW UP AND DEAL WITH IT?

"I gave up sex... but then so did Cliff Richard..."

Laudanum: it makes water taste really, really... interesting...

The tabloids were outraged? The tabloids are always outraged.

Peter Stringfellow turns T.V. Psychic.

"His timing is perfect, as ever." Claims Kylie, game amateure...

"We don't care." Claim British Public.

Dying in sin this week... former Oasis front-man Paul Mcartney described British homeless as "Not much use other than firewood."

"Best band in the world, we were," mumbles Macca, shuffling crayons.

So I'm at this party...

I see myself repeating mistakes - I'm losing friends. I take people for granted. I never make the effort just to be social, and when I do, my timing could not be worse. But at least now I can see what I've been doing.

I miss drinking in the lodge with Danby and Lisa - even though they were both really bad people. I miss Chico's with Andy and Rachel and Monkey Lee. I miss Stray Dog City. I miss arguing pointlessly with Chris, pointlessly. I miss working from 7 am until 7 am. I miss getting up at 5 in the morning. I miss pizza. I miss that feeling of sweet exhaustion as your head finally hits the pillow. I miss Cobridge and getting beaten up and abused and having bricks thrown at me four times a week. I miss the buzz and fear of newness. I want to be healthy but I'm just not helping myself. I want summer. I'm sick of seeing the way I looked and got laughed at being sold in high street stores three years later. You fucking bastarts.

I seldom get passionate about things - about media, culture, music, art, films, people, books, whatever - I thrive on the stuff but I'm never as vocal as other people are. My closest friends can be talking about something I've really enjoyed in the past and I don't give a response. I've 'observed' myself doing it. This isn't intentional - I can't say why I do it. It certainly isn't any kind of misplaced attempt at appearing distant.

Her party piece... fucking a friend's handbag. "You haven't lived," she says, "until you've cum into a close friend's family photo album on at least one occassion.

Leo Sayer was there, a boyhood hero of mine. What a great bloke. I sold him some e's.

A couple of times this week I almost understood what they mean when they say 'all of life is potentially ecstatic'. Even the bits that hurt - the bits that push you - there's still something good going on inside, an experience.

So I'm at this party and I'm looking for a warm place to sleep...

You remember the bad things more because they leave a lasting impression.

They wake you up.

You want to talk about it but you want to keep it a secret. They say secrets are bad, but they also say that some things are impossible to talk about.

It doesn't matter that it's over, or that it hasn't happened yet, or might never happen. It doesn't matter. Sometimes it feels like it's over, sometimes it feels like anything could happen. But it feels good. I can't predict it, and I love that.

"Things have been so predictable round here [life] lately [the last 28 years]."
"You can't predict a thing - you simply choose what you want to see, ignore the rest. That's very clever."


I can tell myself that I understand, but something inside of me is twisting in the snare, struggles free to exclaim and pace. Nothing else holds my attention.

I've been kidding myself - and for a time it worked, because it made me look like I was OK. But now the truth is out, I don't know what's normal behaviour anymore. What am I supposed to wear? What do I do with myself?

We all say too much. We all talk about things that we don't know enough about, or even really have an opinion on. But we feel compelled to speak. I'm great at keeping quiet when things need to be said, and shooting my mouth off when it's most risky. Now I just try to keep it shut.

I don't take anything for granted. I'm feeling the urge to disappear for a time once again. Might do me good. Time to move on again.

We're missing out on the good stuff. We know what is good for us but we don't get enough of it. We know what we need, but we don't do it. We don't experience enough of the good stuff.

I was fine with the whole 'just friends thing' until it turned out that it wasn't just me that felt like it was more than that.

Only LISTENING TO KATE BUSH can save me now.

Rollo Kim.