flux remix

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Enough

Ok, so thats it. It's time for a rethink

Facial hair

Ever since I was I was about 13 and went to a party dressed as Ian Broudie from the Lightening Seeds with a draw on beard, I have always desired facial hair but whenever I tried I always felt it was too patchy.

However, For some months now I adopted a lip beard effort. Not too bad, could be better.

te next satge following near a weeks non shaving at greenbelt I have now shaved leaving a moustache and chin beard.

At best it is questionable. At worst it is just really shit annd makes me look like a gypsy theif...

My question, is there miracle grow for facial hair?

Church

Most Sunday mornings I sit at the front of church and wonder what I'm doing there.

At the moment church for me as it is, is a waste of time. It is moribund. It is dead. Lacking relevance and without passion. Regularly unorganised. Lost. Conflicted. Regimented yet poorly thought out.

The people there are generally quite nice though.

I dont think any Church is perfect and all will have their good points and bad points. I beleive that my particular chuch serves a purpose, it has been praised for the childrens work it does and as a result half of our congregation are children from around the estate who come with or are sent by their parents. Which is great! The church is in a poor area and many of the people who attend the chuch have complex home lives and emotional problems and so the church also employs a counsellor who people can visit. Our pastor also does a lot of home visits to keep up with peoples problems and to help where she can. Which again, is a great social service and brilliant for those those who get something from it especially as the church lacks money and resources that others have. Perhaps more churches should be more pastoral in this way.

However, I often feel that this is a Sunday social service club which is trying to be forced into a God shaped box.

Each Sunday I struggle to keep focussed. My mind wanders, mainly as I wonder if anyone else is following. Leading worship at church puts me in a unique position where I can see people. People obviously do church differently. For Pentecostals it's all about closed eyes, raised hands, speaking in tongues and falling over, for Anglicans it's all about the liturgy, communion, hymns and nice cups of tea, for Baptists, it's all about getting wet and finding a middle ground. For Nazarene's it's about people looking bored as the unorganised leaders attempts to glue the service together with filler and tenuous links, and then waiting until the service is over so they can nip out for a fag before collecting the kids from Sunday school.

From my experience of church it is almost impossible to make everybody happy although most will try and cater for all groups and tastes. No one is perfect after all.

But I feel I am uncatered for. Which is why I go to another church in the evening and meet mid-week with friends from church and discuss the Bible and God and try to get to grips with everything as well as a regular bitch about church also. For a while I was telling myself that I wasn't awake enough in the morning to fully get into church properly in the morning which is why I got more out of there alternative, but really it's just because it is because it is an effort and an inconvenience.

Church has become Chore-ch (see what I did there)

And so this is my predicament.

I have just been appointed the task of being worship leader at the church, which would be a great honour apart from the fact there wasn't anyone else to do it and no-one really listens to me. It is certainly a challenge as it will be my responsibility to lead the nice and well meaning but apathetic people of a church I'm increasingly getting sucked into and becoming reluctant to be a part of, in praising God.

Am I wasting my time or will this be a fantastic learning experience?

Recognition

Following the recognition for my excellent driving skills I have just found out that some of the poetry I send to a magazine has been deemed publishable. It is my first piece of published works and so I am very pleased. It is exciting that possibly tens of people accross this fine land will be able to enjoy/sit in judgement of one of my 'art'. I was going to list it on the poetry page but I thought I will leave it to you all to decide whether you wish to buy the mazagine. I believe it is available at all good book shops, not the shit ones like wh smiths and waterstones though.... sell outs!

Those at Libertine Magazine are to be thanked. Why not visit their myspace at www.myspace.com/libertinemagazine.

You will be pleased to know...

I have passed my driving test.

let the mayhem commence!

Filler

So,

I must confess that I approach this post with some reluctance and realise that I have missed a few days. However, I have had a few things happen in the last couple of days which I thought I might write about including a run in with MP Ruth Kelly, my thoughts on on the poorly thought out Council tax, an amusing competition I found on the side of a bottle of Pepsi , my forthcoming practical driving test and fear of impending failure hanging above me and an ironic rant on apathy.

But I figured i'd just keep it simple and current.

Sometimes I think I try too hard maybe.....

I was looking back at my previous posts and it makes me feel kind of bad. It seems that my previous posts have been mainly about me trying to find something interesting to fill my life with. Which may well be what my life is about these days. I don't think I feel particularly depressed but it's rather like I've adopted this sense of dull acceptance. Not even complaicancy.

Whats going on?

In short I think I need to get a pair of balls....

New

Once again, it’s been a little while. I blame this partly on my moving house and also because we have only just got the internet installed but I’m good to go now, so that’s nice.

So my flat is nice. All coming together. I have a little space where my instruments are set up so it’s a proper little studio area. Once my old house mate Woody (who is currently sleeping on an old duvet in the spare room because he couldn’t be bothered to find anywhere to live) has gone to do his photography job on the gay cruise and the smell of camel hair has left the room, I will either look for a proper housemate again or have the room as a music room/studio/office.

I am also currently looking to invest in an electronic drum kit. Frankly it’s now doing my head in not being able to record stuff without drums and although I am ashamed to admit it, after all my years of anti drummer ill feeling, I concede that sequenced drums and drum machined really don’t cut it. I guess that you can’t beat the human touch, even if it is an electric kit. At least it’s quieter and the drums can be turned up and down, which is perhaps the problem I’ve had with drummers all along. Also, in my Jim Moray-ness I will be playing all the instruments including the drums so can only blame myself if I don’t like what I’m doing. This will ultimately drive my into a cycle of self hatred which in turn will fuel my creativity or something.

Anyway, I promise that I will now list regularly. I know that I say this every time but there is no excuse, even if it is only Mike and Urky who read.

Goodbye my loves.

Thaumatrope

I am pleased to announce that finally I have some of my new songs up un the inter-web-net. These are the first new songs since Red Sun Scene and the failed band which followed on from that. You can expect something in the same vein as RSS although this time it is generally a solo effort. It is also likely that some of the future songs will be purely instrumental and some will feature some of my poetry which will be set/or not set against music. There may also be some collaborations with others and also with the poetry side of things, some visual work. Thaumatrope is basically all the little bits I'm doing at the moment brought together in what I hope is an interesting little project.

The demos that I have thus far recorded can be heard at the following links:

http://www.myspace.com/thaumatropeuk and www.purevolume.com/thaumatrope

Hope you enjoy and be sure to pop back although I am sure that info will also be posted here on this blog.

Byefornow!

The best website this month...

Do you have to give away for free to a stranger?

Do you want a free bed, TV, Sowing machine, Shoes?

Do you want to do something comunity spirited?

Then visit and sign up at

www.uk.freecycle.org.uk

So far I am listing a micro scooter, rollerblades and a broken guitar amp. I am also enquiring about a double bed which has been scratched by a dog

Letter to cheese

Dear Sirs

I would just like to congratulate you on your Anchor Mature Cheese product. I do not know is this is a recent product of if I only recently noticed it on the super market shelf, but I can honestly say that it was and is a pleasure to the taste buds.

Thank you and congratulations!!!

I was more than pleasantly surprised when I bought the product, especially as it was on offer. I merely wanted some cheddar to enjoy with a glass of wine or port in the evening after a strenuous day at work. But as I say the cheese was well beyond my (and my friend Steve's) expectations and can't seem to stop eating it. Even though I'm trying to diet at the moment (I hope it's not fattening). Words literally fail me when I try to think about how great it is. I thank God that cheese can taste so good. So often we are tempted by more exotic cheeses like, the French brie for example or Dutch edam, both of which are utterly bland. Recently I have also notice newcomers to the cheese market, Bowland or bizarre cheese with caramelized onions, but I applaud you in the art of creating a simple and beautiful British cheese. A cheese without pretension, but a gutsy cheese. Man cheese.

I trust you will not follow suit with the fancy cheese fad although I am interested as to whether you have any plans for the production of other traditional cheeses in the pipeline, a red Leicester perhaps?

I wonder also if you have any corporate information available with regards to cheese tasting or indeed any tips with which you could furnish me?

I thank you for taking the time to read my letter and look forward to your response!


Kindest thanks


Daniel Gilbert

Babies

I come to notice babies as I am sat on the bus. I become slowly surrounded. The first one I can only describe as a scally baby dressed up like a Christmas tree by her scally mum. Decorated with rolled gold chains, and earrings and a finger ring so small that it can an ear cuff because no one seriously makes rings for children with barely a years growth of hair. Right? However, she is plucky and plays to the bus audience and blows kisses to a lad in a tracksuit, his ear bruised and knuckles scabbed from last weeks drunken ruck, no doubt. He returns the gesture. I think “this is the most surreal thing I have seen all week” but then dismiss it, for surely they are kindred spirits. There is an understanding that they will share the same destiny.

A few stops down another young mum alights and parks her child in front of me. Her baby, is just a baby. Without pretension. A baby dressed as a baby. But given the right opportunity, if they were sat next to each other I imagine that they would be friends, without prejudice. This imagine this sentiment is extended when the young mum shares a look with scally mum and her babe and smiles. It is a smile dripping in shared pride, a pride only known by mothers. Or maybe I misjudge it as comparative pride, a “my baby is better than yours” look.

Whilst I notice all this, the child in front of me stares big blues at me. I do my usual raised eyebrow and smile slight and then try to avert my eyes. The baby looks on, unaware of the etiquette regarding staring at strangers on public transport. I wonder why that is? Why is it so uncomfortable to hold eye contact with a stranger for more than a few seconds. What is that? Is every gaze loaded with judgement? If I stare at this baby for too long what will happen? What will be judged? Because we all do it. Staring in judgement on the bling baby, the battered lad, the scally mum, the mouthy drunk, the ogre like security guard, the promiscuous divorced administrator, the uptight business man ashamed to take the bus, the bespectacled nutter eyeballing babies and making notes in a pukka pad like some kind of twisted trainspotter.

Faithless

Went to see faithless last night in Manchester with Stino, Phil and Duncan which was a pleasure. They played some banging choons, good athmosphere. I've not listened to them for a while but it was cool because I was reminded of how brilliant they are. They offer so much, diversity, emotion, passion, poetry.... nice.

During the evening Phil suggested that I should investigate facebook as everyone was on it. This morning I after watching some Curb Your Enthusiasm I decided that I should investigate. I have to say I was impressed by the amount of people on it which I knew. It was great to see people who I've not spoken to in a good while. Having only two friends to start with I thought I would exploit their friends lists and in some cases there were some real finds. Whilst I was scanning through folowing links and leads I was suprised at the amount of people emerging who had at some stage in my life had been the subject of an unrequited romantic conquest, well I say conquest, more like I secretly fancied them and never did anything about it. So that was a bit depressing but exciting because I can retrospectivley comment on how we met and I fancied them all and laugh about it.....

It's bloody addictive though. So far I have spent 3 hours of my day whoring away on facebook.

Where will it all end?

Batchelor boy

First, News - Nothing really I have been ill with a cold for the past few days so have been spending plenty of time watching Lost and other shows on internet television.... oh the delicious joy! Have also spent some time producing some remixes. The first one is of a red sun scene song and can be accessed via the side menu or at the folowing link www.myspace.com/redsunscene. The other is a cover of Deliriou5?'s Obsession after listening to live in the can for the first time in like 7 years (do you remember, from when they spelt the name with a 5 and were good) The following link will lead you to a poorly thought out youtube vid I made -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGTGtA_1Pg8.

Secondly, as some of you may know I will be moving out from my current home to a hopefully much more pleasing abode in the next few months and the past week or so have been a taster of what that may be like, living on my own and that.

Over the first few days I quickly learned two important things, 1) that I have to get out of the habit of talking to myself out loud and then laughing, again, out loud at the realisation that I have caught myself talking to myself and 2) that I have to stop this from spilling out onto the street, supermarket. I don't think I'm loosing it mentally as I was in a jovial mood but had no-one to share it with (also may have been pre illness delerium). Either way, cursing and laughing at the ready meal in the Asda is not a great plan, not for a sober person anyway. Moving on is a bit scary but despite the madness I feel prepared and I think I have a life that can keep my occupied when needed and Bolton is a home for me. On thinking about my situation though I began to think about what I was actually doing and it dawned on me. I've been talking about having my own space to do what I want without for example, having to chech with housemates if it was ok to have people round for say a meal or dinner party and that I could live somewhere nice where I can make a nice little homely pad, which I want to keep clean and be responsible for. This I realised was wrong, what I really wanted in many ways, rather pathetically, was to be married. It would certainly help with paying the rent anyway. Many of my friends at work have nice little one bed flats which they share with their girlfriends and they've got it made. Cheap accommodation and you know.... nice. Now if I had a girlfriend then maybe I would move in with her and have a nice non sex pre marital relationship! It would be brilliant, plus I'd get cheaper rent and could live somewhere real nice and have someone to nurse me.

I was mulling all this information over and I came to the conclusion that society (and the man) is against the Batchelor Boy which Cliff Richard so wisely sang about and lived his life by. This in turn reminded me of a conspiracy which I heard from somewhere confirming this. Everything in this world is designed and marketted towards couples. It is impossible to buy the amount of lettuce needed for exactly one person, jars come with far too much sauce in for one person, cakes at the supermarkets are cheaper in multipacks, one bedroom apartments are more of a rip off that 2 bed hgosue suitable for a young family, Orange wednesday only offers discount on ticket pairs being brought, you never see a table for one at a resteraunt, a wedding invitation suggests you bring a guest or partner, the list goes on. The only thing specific to single people are ready meals. However, the irony is that one ready meal does not fulfil the needs of a single loner and so he has to have two, which is exactly too much. It is is as if the designers of the ready meal mock our tiny lonely fat faces as we tuck into the second tray of mirco macaroni cheese and whilst they mock become ever so slightly aroused at the thought of the single idiots who are forced to eat their ridiculious food.

Well, let me say this you you, my single brothers and sisters, let us not succumb to the evil powers of the ready meal, let us cook meals with full jars of sauce and too much potato, but let us freeze what we do not want and use it for a meal later in the week of for when we are ill. We will not be defeated!!!!

Ciao

Farts or Wee?

Nearly true to my promise, I have been partially been following the Lenton tasks set out for me (and other people) by the Church of England. See below.

There is however a problem with some of them:

Turn off the tap when you clean your teeth - I brush my teeth in the shower, killing two birds with one stone

Go for a walk in your neighbourhood with a friend - No-one was free for a walk that day

Feed the birds - I live in Bolton where the only birds are vermin pigeon. Here, to feed them is a finable offence.

It is quite difficult to carry out some of these tasks and also unfulfilling. Some for me are just plain manners. I did however chat to someone new at church, an old man named Ron/Bill depending where he was. I also said something nice to someone behind their back and had a tv free day where I did something I wanted to do for ages, however after I finished I had some time free so watched prison break.

There is one task which I took issue with. Phone or text someone to say goodnight. Now I did do this but not at night. I had already text the boys at home that night questioning whether they thought a chimp had ever attempted to milk a wolf and so my goodnight wishes may have seen a little out of place but maybe I should have. Scrolling through my phone I couldn't find anyone to text where this may be appropriate. Also part of the problem was that to me this seemed like a potential come on to the innocent lady. Now there were friends who were approprately not married who I am in regular contact with who I could have text or rung to say Goodnight but I wasn't sure if I should push those friendships to the next level unless it was understood in the correct context and indeed reciprocated. I could imagine nothing worse than sending a goodnight message and not receiving one back (especially from whose who might, you know.... be on the list). In the end I sent a text message and tagged it on the end but it was a cop out because I sent it at 4 pm.

So, there are now three face saving choices.

1. I can send a text to everyone in my phone wishing them a goodnight followed by a web link to the below website excusing me of my madness but sacrificing the nature of goodwill intended by this gesture.

2. Do as above without the explaination and except that people will now view me as some kind of nutter, thus negating all the previous good work I have done to build up these friendships.

3. Just... not bother.

In other news today I spend 15 minutes contemplating which is funnier- Wee or Farts.

To summarise, farts are funny as we know because it is some sh*t smelling gas coming out of an anus. However, some would say that it is often a hackneyed and worn out tradition of humour, funny only because society expects us to find it funny in the same way that people consider Billy Connelly to be the funniest man in the world ever, with his Scotch face and beard.

Or is it wee which is funnier, wee which is yellow and smells of wee coming out of a body in liquid form. Simple yet effective?

Lent 2

News on the Lent adventure, last night I lit a candle and prayed. Todays, task was to give an apple to someone. This is quite tricky as the apple is not the fruit favourite these days. However, compromise was met when I gave a banana to Woody. Not sure what the thinking behind this particular task really. I also wrote a letter thanking someone. Outstanding tasks are now to have a meat free day, I did already do this but not with intent so my day of non meat is set for tommorow. I must also let someone who is in a rush have your place in a queue.

Laters!

Lent

For lent I decided that I would give up being negative and that I would read some books instead of sitting on my bum. I soon realised that these were crap things to do for lent and so I have also decided to sign up to the Church of England's primary coloured, smiley faced, Danny Wallace-alike, Love Life Live Lent scheme and to report on this here blog, whereby I am accountable to those who read. See following link: http://www.livelent.net/

The basic premise of this is that each day over Lent you are encouraged to do a random act of kindness for yourself, someone else or for the planet.

I am behind so far but here are the first 7:

1. Make someone laugh. In response to this challenge I sent the following joke to a friend:

Why did Graham Norton cross the road? To buy a car from a shop, a car however which he could not operate, being a gay man. Before leaving he made a cock joke to break the obvious tension given the mistake he had made.

At other times in the week I did make people laugh but I couldn't think of a specific example. I appreciate that obscure jokes about a gay Graham Norton are not really in the spirit of Lent, but I panicked.

2. Go to a party. See below post!

3. Spend some time in silence. I did do this on Thursday whilst walking to work and I had some actually God time yesterday evening before I even looked at this list. Brilliant.

I still have 4 from last week to do this week. One of them I can do today.

Strange things happen... a follow up...

Since my last post I have been thinking a bit more about the issue of identity and masks that we wear.

The idea of havin a blog is strange to me and probably to others also. For me it has always been a kind of safe haven, a place where I can voice my private thoughts and opinions for the whole world to read and judge. For some reason we will say things in blog that we won't even say in the company of friends or family. This is something I am used to in that most of the songs I write are quite personal yet are encrypted in such a way that it may be slightly ambiguous, as in the case of many art forms. But the blog is bold and brash and blatant, written without thought or concern, the deepest of feelings poured out so shamelessly that we don't give the consequences a second thought. Only once have I been burnt by the blog.

When I was at university, one week I received a particularly harsh critique of a short story I had written from a tutor. I was annoyed and vented this via my blog, critiquing her work and teaching style against a colleague of hers who was my personal tutor who I greatly respect. Now, the problem with having tutors who are published, award winning writers is that people they know find interest in googling their names to see what fun things have been written about them. And on one occasion my 'article' was found and forwarded to said personal tutor who, at my next one to one, advised that this article had been found and asked if I would kindly remove it just to make sure that ite didn't find it's way into the hand of the nasty tutor. Needles to say I was horrified and deeply embarrased, although once I had graduated my personal tutor confessed that he agreed with me that the other tutor was indeed shit as I had pointed out.

I digress, the point is that I still kept blogging despite causing the trouble, all be it a little more discreetly. But why? I don't know. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Again, I don't know. Its 2:15 am and I can't fully think anymore.

Discuss though and I shall respond shortly! x

Strange things happen when you step out of your comfort zone

Having just written a letter to Mr Stinson and carrying on from the revalations promised in my last post, I thought I would talk about some of my deepest insecurities, for your amusements only.

The truth is that occasionallt I really miss you, all you lovely people from home who know me for what I am and love me for it. Indeed you are my home, and at the moment I'm just wandering a little.

The problem seems to be with lack of confidence or safety. When I'm with the boys I'm quite happy to accost random strangers with yelps of yes mate, of to hollow out so many loaves of bread. Few people round these parts fully understand that of me, and i get the feeling that everone just points and stares. It's not endearing, it's just weird. I played a friend some of And My Eccentric Face and it was met with a horror blank face followed by a suggestion that I was some kind of pervert. But this is me, this is what I do but somehow I feel ashamed of my whole self.

On a serious note though I sometimes find it a real struggle, shifting between different identities for different social occasions. I feel that I often censor myself in the fear that I provoke an unexpected response of offend someone. I know that we all do this kind of thing to an extent, that we all have a work face etc, but it bothers me sometimes. I don't know which version of me to be to be the most socially acceptable.

Yesterday I spent the whole day arguing with myself about whether I should go to a pancake party I had been invited to, simply because I had over analysed the text message too much and I was scared that I would be awkward and say something stupid. I decided that I would reply to the invite saying that I may not be able to make it as I wasn't sure where the location was and I had to rise for work at 6 am the next day. I decided that it was it was better to feign apathy than to admit the fear burning in my stomach. I knew that that was the best thing to do. I thought that eventually with some practice I would master the art of shifting my personality according to social context.

But somewhere in the back of my head I heard the voice of Danny Wallace, whose book on the subject I can highly recommend, urging me to embrace yes. And so I went to the party! I got lost on the way and wandered the streets for nearly an hour, I stood there awkwardly sipping my Coke and sweating over my pancake next to a bloke whose dreams I had shattered in conversation after stating that I didn't really follow football and then who ignored me for the rest of the night. And yes I said stupid things, namely that the hosts dog looked strangely kickable, demonstrated that you could get away with lying to people on the basis that most people can't remember what thet were doing 10 years ago and that Mikhail Gorbachev when losing his hair must have been given the shock of his life when he noticed his birthmark. But it was OK.

I learnt an important lesson in this, that you should be able to just be yourself and if people don't understand you and that means that you have to stand awkwardly in silence with them, then so be it! It's a hard challenge to live up to but maybe there is something to it.

Strange things happen when you step out of your comfort zone. But I guess it's just what happens when you step out on your own.

(just realised that ryhmes and is a little cheeesy... nevermind though)

From your friend, the chronic worrier,

Goodnight

Start... again

Ok so I've really got to get this blogging thing sorted. I'll be honest, I did write some new posts on sly when I was at work but it seems that I couldn't get round to posting anything.

Anyway, I will endeavor to make this work.

So, what news? Since my last post I have started my driving lessons again and have written some more poetry. However, I have not yet passed my practical test or had any poetry sent out to be published. The band I was doing seems to have stopped so it's back to the drawing board. I am keen to do some open mic spots or solo slots. Whether or not this will manifest into anything is another question.

I've been thinking recently. So many thoughts, so little space and time. I feel odd coming back into the blogging arena. This will no longer be the blog of a bored student, or of a graduate on the cuspe of a world with money and taxes and mundanity. I'm not quite sure of my voice here anymore... and it feels weird. Where to start?

Not here tonight that is for certain. So, on that ominous note I shall now go.

Start

As part of my new years resolution I have decided to start my blog up again having missed months of entries. Hopefully this will help me keep in touch with my friends and fans all over the world once again and connect with the general web community, I'm not a nerd though…..

I think that part of the problem I had before was that I couldn't really think of anything interesting to write, whether it be a funny letter to baked beans, a poem, news about my creative efforts or my quest for praise in my trivial pursuits.

This year instead of resolutions I have set out some aims that I would like to achieve. They are as follows:

To get my driving licence. Having now passed my theory test (a doddle, I'm sure you will agree) one of my aims is to pass the practical theory test and become the owner of one of the most dangerous weapons known to man… a car…..

To get some of my poetry published in some magazines and possible get some pocket money for my troubles. I think if I get some stuff published then I can gain some of the self respect I deserve and can proudly call myself a writer, not just say I'm a writer then say that I write letters for the DSA but it still counts, and then implode with embarrassment and the shitness of my joke.

To do some gigs with my as yet un-named new band and maybe do some solo stuff.

Ladies. If I can accomplish all of the above then maybe I can meet, talk to and woo some of the ladies who are amazed by me. Two years is a long time… never confused though.

Anyway, that's about all I have to say on that. Bye!