Tuesday, 29 September 2009

Stay Close Sit Tight

So the past few days I've been thinking that I would give anything to have someone, anyone come over and sit with me for a while, just watching tv or doing nothing, but something restful and calm. Tonight I am at mum's house where it is neither quiet nor peaceful, but it's away from streets that when I walk them I see people I know on every corner, and frankly that's a good enough reason to be here than any. I just need one night of complete alienation from everything (and I do realise that saying this whilst on the internet is counter-productive, but it too will end soon). I tried to calm my silly little head down last night by delving head first into some philosophy and in the dark randomly reached out to the bookshelf, fumbled a guess, sat down, switched the light on, and in true dark humour the fates had conspired that I pick up Hume's On Suicide. (It wasn't that odd a choice really, 2/3 of my books in Ashley are existentialist/nihilistic masterpieces). I had a quick flick through and realised that I had read it so many times it needed to be laid to one side for another few months. So I broke out the ipod swirled the little control and hit play (and this is where it just got creepy), I ended up listening to Malcolm Middleton, perhaps the most moreose songwriter on the planet. He is excellent though, so as I go to have some quiet time I leave you with an utterly depressing but wonderfully lovely song.

*cough* There appears to be no videos of it online though...so you only get the lyrics...which are pretty self-indulgently disheartening... but fuck it, it's my blog I can do what I want!

Stay Close Sit Tight
I can feel stuff coming
I'm scared of a life of pain
Just round the corner is sadness and misery
Tomorrow I can die
Today I need to sort this out
Start with the kitchen, the bedroom, then my family

I can feel depression coming
It always starts with the clouds
Then the fear of phones and mirrors and not wanting you around

You stay close
And you sit tight
Don't be so faraway tonight
I may be bad
And I may be wrong
But you know I won't stay this way for long

Then I remember
That you remind me
I do have have some stuff to look forward to
Like those replica screaming eyes
That are going to look to me
To tuck them in at night and raise them right

Don't call me
Because I wont pick up the phone
Don't come around
Because I probably won't be home
There's this little thing that is mundane and a bore
But it locks me up and stares me out and drills a hole

Don't invite me
I'm safer where I am
Best not to make plans
Because I'll just agree and then cancel
There's this little thing that is mundane and a bore
But it locks me up and stares me out and drills a hole

Tuesday, 22 September 2009

Broken Heart

Though I have a broken heart
I'm too busy to be heartbroken
There's a lot of things that need to be done
Lord I have a broken heart

Though I have a broken dream
I'm too busy to be dreaming of you
There's a lot of things that I gotta do
Lord I have a broken dream

And I'm wasted all the time
I've gotta drink you right off of my mind
I've been told that this will heal given time
Lord I have a broken heart

And I'm crying all the time
I have to keep it covered up with a smile
And I'll keep on moving on for a while
Lord I have a broken heart

Monday, 21 September 2009

Sick of Feeling Sick

(I should apologise that all my captions recently seem to be Frightened Rabbit quotes, but this one is necessary, for I am ill and am frigging bored of it! Plus I heard the absolutely MEGA news that Frightened Rabbit are supporting Modest Mouse in December in good ol Belfastland, so I am positively beaming!)

But yes,
I'm ill.
I lasted an hour and 35mins in work today then admitted defeat and went back to mammy emma's house where I have slept up until now. Thats 8 hours, a whole nights sleep, I haven't got that in quite a while. And the silver lining of this whole thing is that for once I will get to stay in bed and sleep my way out of my energy deficit so I should be back on track and positively buzzing as soon as I can move without crying again!

I've been extremely self-destructive recently, which although undoubtably is a bad thing, it's good to have some sort of cathartic outpouring once in a while. This is some sort of self-involved cathexis which has completely consumed my life recently, bad things have happened to other people and I seem to be drawing them into myself, recounting the problems of my friends and investing all the emotion onto the blankness of myself. I cried today because I was ill, but it was so so silly, I never ever cry, I generally would prefer to be likened to an emotional vacuum, apathy isn't such a terrible lifestyle in my opinion. But I know I'm wrong, I'm being self-indulgent, because by shunning outward emotion I'm building a barrier.

Those that will judge
will say you're aloof
but you know the truth is a seed
you know what you need
is a conflagration
cause when I see your blood
and the bits of your broken tooth
it gives me the proof that I need
it's the proof that you bleed
and it's a revelation

A mister Andrew Bird ladies and gentlemen, I'm so predictable with my lyrics.

Bah, I intended to move onto more cheerful topics but an absolute wave of exhaustion has taken over so I think I'm going to head to sleep again. Come on white blood cells, do your thing!!

Thursday, 17 September 2009


Loose Lips
loose lips might sink ships but loose kisses take trips
to san francisco, double dutch disco,
tech tv hottie, do it for scotty
do it for the living and do it for the dead
do it for the monsters under your bed
do it for the teenagers and do it for your mom
broken hearts hurt but they make you strong and

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we're just dancing, we're just hugging,
singing, screaming, kissing, tugging
on the sleeve of how it used to be
how's it gonna be?
i'll drop kick russell stover, move into the starting over house
and know matt rouse and jest are watching me achieve my dreams

and we'll pray, all damn day, every day,
that all this shit our president has got us in will go away
while we strive to figure out a way we can survive
these trying times without losing our minds

so if you wanna burn yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
and if you wanna cut yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
and if you wanna kill yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
call me up before your dead, we can make some plans instead
send me an IM, i'll be your friend

shysters live from scheme to scheme but my 4th quarter pipe dreams
are seeming more and more worth fighting for
so i'll curate some situations, make my job a big vacation
and i'll say fuck Bush and fuck this war
my war paint is sharpie ink and i'll show you how much my shit stinks
ask you what you think because your thoughts and words are powerful
they think we're disposable, well both my thumbs opposable
spelled out on a double word and triple letter score and

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we won't stop until somebody calls the cops
and even then we'll start again and just pretend that
nothing ever happened

we're just dancing, we're just hugging,
singing, screaming, kissing, tugging
on the sleeve of how it used to be...

Wednesday, 16 September 2009

Ladies and Gentlemen...we are floating in space...

In a blatent attempt to pick any remnants of selp-pity out of my little head I decided to take a little break from seeing people recently. Iscolation after a long bout of hardcore social interactions. It was really good in some aspects, I did a lot of reading, got stuck into my philosophy again and took some time to breathe. On the other hand it was devastatingly lonely, but a kind of necessary lonliness (to be a complete fangirl and steal a line from a friend's song, but one which can properly convey the sentiment- "you think I'm lonely, but I'm only on my own".) Anyway, I had my week and a bit of extreme self-involved introversion and decided my slump was well and truely over! On Thursday I got to blow bubbles in a music video for one of my friend's bands! I'll post it up when it's finished, I can only imagine how phenomonally sureal the entire thing must look (I dont want to spoil too much before it's up). I then absolutely hit the ground running into public life with a Saturday extravaganza thanks to the police closing down the au party and us having to relocate to a house on Melrose Street, the ENTIRE au party, in a house 1/4 the size. It. Was. Fantastic. The most wonderful part though, was even though I'd been awol for such a short amount of time in reality, people noticed, my friends were lovely and patient with me, people who I barely know were making sure I was going to come to the party and not slink off home. I am unbelievably grateful to have such gloriously caring people around me!

And so, I have returned to live a life of hedonism, rampaging through the streets of Belfast with early morning bottles of rosé! Long may it continue!

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

Bee Scene and knot herd

Talking- it's a wierd phenomonon isn't it?

It's one of the first landmarks in life, we spend years developing it, trying to do it skillfully, with tact and honesty, employing an appropriate eloquance, and understanding to the tiniest degree the enormity a few words can have on someone.

But when all is said and done, most of us still can't say what we want to, and when we do, if we ever do, chances are there'll be no one there to listen.

Here's a man who I think has an astounding way with words, the catalyst behind my blog title, and an altogether amazing artist. He explains the meandering ideas of this blog post better than I ever could.

Tables and Chairs
If we can call them friends we can call them on red telephones
and they won't pretend that they're too busy or they're not alone
if we can call them friends we can call
holler at 'em down these hallowed halls
but just don't let the human factor fail to be a factor at all.

don't you worry
about the atmosphere
or any sudden pressure change.

'Cause I know
that it's starting
to get warm in here
and things are
starting to get strange.

And did you,
did you see how
all our friends were there
and they were drinkin' roses from the can

how I wish I,
I had talked to them
and wished they
fit into my plan..

And we were tired of being mild.
oh so tired of being mild,
we were so tired.

I know we're gonna meet someday in the crumbled financial institutions of this land
there will be tables and chairs
pony rides and dancing bears
there'll even be a band
'cause listen after the fall there'll be no more countries
no currencies at all
we're gonna live on our wits
throw away survival kits
trade butterfly knives for adderal
and that's not all
there will be snacks, there will
there will be snacks.

And we were tired of being mild.
oh so tired of being mild,
we were so tired...

So don't you
don't you worry
about the atmosphere.

Saturday, 5 September 2009

Oh my...

Putting my ipod on shuffle is a fairly recent occurance for me, I really am more of a "full album or nothing" type gal. But I've been coaxed into giving the auld shuffle a hit one or two times every so often, and the bus on the way home today was one of these oppertunities. So I skipped past the first few terrible terrrrrible tracks and settled into a nice medeley of Emma-tunes.

And then...while passing S. D. Bells (a cafe) in Ballyhack, this song came on, and to be honest I was going to laugh or cry...for the first time in a few days I decided to laugh at my own my own stupidity.

She Bathed Herself in a Bath of Bleach
She'd walk on broken glass for love
She thought burnt skin would please her lover
To keep love alive and lust beside
Kind people should never be treated like...

Empty arms and naked heart
Violence, a sad truth followed with a
Table for two, such a sweet delight
Whispers "I love you my darling" tonight

Love bathed her in a bath of bleach
"I brought you here, no one else will"
Don't hurt her anymore, stop now
But salmon pink skin memories took care of...

Empty arms and naked heart
Violence, a sad truth followed with a
A table for two - such a sweet delight
Whispers "I love you my darling" tonight

Yeah, fuck it, I've permanently messed my face, but c'mon, you gotta laugh...

This is a spade.

Today has been exceptionally rubbish by anyones standards. Upon dragging myself into work for the first dayback after my holidays I was greeted by the welcome of "have you heard who else is leaving?" There's been a mass exodus (well, granted, as much a feeling of as an exodus a months notice can envoke) from my place of work (*cough* lets call it HM...B?). Now, another two of my favourites have handed in their notices, leaving my nose distinctly out of joint; I'm not sure how they can do it so freely and I can't, although now the idea of leaving is becoming a lot easier. I was in a foul mood all day, so much so that a girl I work with, and don't have terribly much else in common, told me to tell them I was ill so I could go home because "I looked so sad". Not content with depressing the hell out of the building I also went on an extreme rant when in reply to "I wish all my friends weren't leaving" my boss said "don't worry Emma, it's probably no consolation but I'm not going anywhere." I'm going to need to keep my head down for a while.

The second, possibly more soul destroying portion of my day is documented in my notebook and on various untitled notebook entries on the computer. I'm writing some very difficult things at the minute, the victory of head over a capricious heart. Instead of actually sending them though I've just had them lying open for hours, doodling in margins or re-wording until my brain can take no more. In fact, of all the things I have written today intended for other people, I have only sent one of them, another one it is necessary I will send, the others will probably get lost in the dark recesses of my bag until I find them in a few months, read back over them, and remark "Jesus, what a twat am I!" I just need to send this necessary one and it will be a weight off my shoulders in one respect, and a crashing elephant on my chest in another. It's for the greater good, my Benthamide-self would be proud!

Finally, I got asked to do a review a couple of days ago, it was one of the most difficult ones I've ever done (which is saying something because my inhability to write coherently means every review is a struggle), I just didn't like that kind of music at all, and it was the band who requested the review! Anyway, I did it and very timidly sent it away, I heard back from the band today who luckily sent a very nice response saying they thought it was a very measured response from someone who admitted they didn't find any redeeming qualities in that particular music genre. This is all really just an excuse to say they called me a good writer!! Yay! I was properly chuffed! And it never rains but it pours with reviewing. I got asked earlier today to go a gig review tomorrow, I'm still in two minds over whether I'll do it or not, but I'm so happy to be asked because I thought the particular site that it will be for hated me! Alas, chances are I'm not going to be able to do the review, my social abilities have depleted back to zero the past few days, but still, it's nice to be asked.

Seriously though...

Flipping Einaudi!!

Thursday, 3 September 2009

Desire Not Consolation

I know I'm not alone in this feeling, when someone feels obliged to alienate themselves from society and await the release of enlightenment or self destruction. For me this results in a lot of music, classical for the most part interspersed large dose of existentialist philosophy.

I had a discussion with someone recently about "recovery", take from that what you will, life recovery, a recovery of what you once had, something specific, it's unimportant. An extremely intuitive, clever lady, she told me about the necessity of balance. Balance of body, mind and soul. All of which I have been neglecting recently in favour of some sort of unfulfilling hedonistic lifestyle, I love it, I don't want a quiet existance, but right now, I just want some peace, a break to gather my thoughts and put myself in a better frame of mind for the future.

This has been my day in blog form:

Ludovico Einaudi's Le Onde on repeat. This album reminds me so much of the three years I lived with Abi, I miss her so so much.

Saint Saens' Danse Macabre, this makes me think of school, the most phenomenal piece of music I have ever heard. Probably the first classical music I bothered paying any attention to. I think of Mrs. Smye's music class, she made us close our eyes with our heads on the desk for an hour and listen to it over and over again imagining the skeletons getting up from the graves to dance until dawn, and then the mad dash to return to the dead before the sun came up. I still can't listen to it without picturing it. I'm sure everyone else in the class was sleeping.

The Stranger by Camus, the first existentialist book I ever read. It's like a comfort blanket for the lost.

In truth, the majority of the day was spent in a self-loathing, vaccuous spiral, but these are the aspects I choose to focus on, the creative, the soul fulfilling, the socially acceptable madness.