0001. About time I did A Proper One.
Yeeeeah, well. I was going to post a "Argh I fucking hate Valentines Day" thing but really, I can't lie. I don't hate it. I'm now quite comfortable with the fact that this year's thing will pass me by completely and I will spend Saturday night either in my living room or my trailer thing on-set, gorging myself with chocolate and watching whatever trashy shite I can find on the television. Besides, I didn't want the first entry in this glittering new journal to consist of me being a bitter old wretch of a man. Anyway, I'll still get chocolate. Only difference is I'll be buying it myself, and at the end of the day, chocolate is chocolate. Get it how and wherever you can. If I'm at home I may indulge in some wine, but I'm certainly not going to start wailing 'All by Myself' tunelessly into Singstar. I do have some semblance of dignity left, thank you very much.
It's weird, when you discover you've got a lot more time to yourself, you start noticing a whole cavalcade of things you've not really paid any attention to in months. One thing being junk mail. I have an unmitigated amount of shit coming through my door, and I find myself standing in my kitchen, drinking a coffee, reading the Bettaware catalogue and seriously considering purchasing that Spider-Be-Gone deterrent spray. See, once you're out of that fluffy haze of a relationship, the mundane becomes very much high-definition, I've noticed. It's all a bit dreary but as I think James May's T-Shirt said once, in a very british way, Keep Calm and Carry On. Because what else can you do? There's little point getting maudlin about these things. I was lucky, in a way. At least things came to a somewhat amicable conclusion. That'll make drunk dialling a lot less awkward in the future, I think. At least I'm out of London. Less chance of me going out on the piss and rolling up at his door with half a bottle of smuggled Beck's in my hand, serenading with drunken renditions of 'Our Songs' before inevietably falling into a bush and falling asleep.
That is another thing. Songs. Why do we do that to ourselves, people? I am dying to know. We take a song that we love, and somehow apply it to a relationship, and then once things have died their natural death, we can never listen to it again without a little bit of a cringe. Of course the sensible thing would be just to remember the good times and look on it fondly with a wry smile.. but that never fucking works, if we're honest. You just remember the things that failed. What you could've possibly done better to make the outcome different. Even if there was nobody at fault. The longing tug of What Could Have Been.
Still. It's not so bad. I was never a big fan of Swedish death metal, anyway.
Don't get me wrong. This isn't an overwrought plea for a cuddle (Well. I say that. I wouldn't be opposed to a cuddle.) or some woe is me epitaph to a relationship. It's just.. musings, I suppose. Because you always tend to gain the benefit of hindsight once these things are over, and after a while you sort of think there's little point getting invested in these things because at the end of the day, everything is temporary, whether you like it or not. That isn't me being bitter, that's me being realistic. But you carry on and do this over and over again because the notion of finding that one that's slightly less temporary than all of the others is far too tempting to pass up. I think for the time being I'm just going to concentrate on work... and catching up with everything I've been putting off.
Should be fun.
Have a non-valentines mixtape.
Spiritualized - Broken Heart - I warn you now, listening to this at the wrong time may induce uncontrollable weeping. A bottle of Pinot and I won't be held responsible for your actions.
Jamie Lidell - Where D'you Go?
Basia Bulat - Why Can't It Be Mine?
Robyn - With Every Heartbeat
The Cure - The Perfect Boy
Frou Frou - Hear Me Out
Portishead - Only You
Bloc Party - I Still Remember
Soulwax - The Truth Is So Boring
Sleeper - What Do I Do Now?"
Flight of the Conchords - I'm Not Crying
Go on, then. Gimme some sugar.
Also - yes, I know he's on the fringes of our wee community but - barrowmanj . You know you want to.
It's weird, when you discover you've got a lot more time to yourself, you start noticing a whole cavalcade of things you've not really paid any attention to in months. One thing being junk mail. I have an unmitigated amount of shit coming through my door, and I find myself standing in my kitchen, drinking a coffee, reading the Bettaware catalogue and seriously considering purchasing that Spider-Be-Gone deterrent spray. See, once you're out of that fluffy haze of a relationship, the mundane becomes very much high-definition, I've noticed. It's all a bit dreary but as I think James May's T-Shirt said once, in a very british way, Keep Calm and Carry On. Because what else can you do? There's little point getting maudlin about these things. I was lucky, in a way. At least things came to a somewhat amicable conclusion. That'll make drunk dialling a lot less awkward in the future, I think. At least I'm out of London. Less chance of me going out on the piss and rolling up at his door with half a bottle of smuggled Beck's in my hand, serenading with drunken renditions of 'Our Songs' before inevietably falling into a bush and falling asleep.
That is another thing. Songs. Why do we do that to ourselves, people? I am dying to know. We take a song that we love, and somehow apply it to a relationship, and then once things have died their natural death, we can never listen to it again without a little bit of a cringe. Of course the sensible thing would be just to remember the good times and look on it fondly with a wry smile.. but that never fucking works, if we're honest. You just remember the things that failed. What you could've possibly done better to make the outcome different. Even if there was nobody at fault. The longing tug of What Could Have Been.
Still. It's not so bad. I was never a big fan of Swedish death metal, anyway.
Don't get me wrong. This isn't an overwrought plea for a cuddle (Well. I say that. I wouldn't be opposed to a cuddle.) or some woe is me epitaph to a relationship. It's just.. musings, I suppose. Because you always tend to gain the benefit of hindsight once these things are over, and after a while you sort of think there's little point getting invested in these things because at the end of the day, everything is temporary, whether you like it or not. That isn't me being bitter, that's me being realistic. But you carry on and do this over and over again because the notion of finding that one that's slightly less temporary than all of the others is far too tempting to pass up. I think for the time being I'm just going to concentrate on work... and catching up with everything I've been putting off.
Should be fun.
Have a non-valentines mixtape.
Spiritualized - Broken Heart - I warn you now, listening to this at the wrong time may induce uncontrollable weeping. A bottle of Pinot and I won't be held responsible for your actions.
Jamie Lidell - Where D'you Go?
Basia Bulat - Why Can't It Be Mine?
Robyn - With Every Heartbeat
The Cure - The Perfect Boy
Frou Frou - Hear Me Out
Portishead - Only You
Bloc Party - I Still Remember
Soulwax - The Truth Is So Boring
Sleeper - What Do I Do Now?"
Flight of the Conchords - I'm Not Crying
Go on, then. Gimme some sugar.
Also - yes, I know he's on the fringes of our wee community but - barrowmanj . You know you want to.