Wednesday 26 September 2012

We Knew That We Couldn't Surviive

Bethany tucked away the bag of jelly babies into her right jacket pocket, hurriedly relieving the duty of carrying them from her hands, which she preferred to keep free to sway amiably by her side, or to rifle through to a new song choice on her cheap mp3 player. It was almost like a stance of security for her, as if by keeping her hands free she was quick to react to whatever could approach her in the street, living or object. Maybe it was a faint yet poignant nod to her younger days, when she would prepare herself mentally and physically for any oncoming bullies or unsavoury types, who would surely take any chance to trip and push her into the mud.

Still, it was coming up for 7 and she was desperate to get back to her flat. She had spent the day aimlessly trudging round the Northern Quarter, initially hoping to find the promise of a new job, but as that search grew fruitless she started hoping she would find...anything. A new bar, or cafe, or place to go. Or that new job, or something to indicate a new turn around in her fortunes. A run-in with a new mysterious friend, who would show her the world. Truth be told she was underwhelmed by what she thought would be her big break; her impulsively epic jaunt to a new city, that for her harked the post-war migration of troubled youths heading for swelling cities to find fortune and adventure.

No, she was injecting far too much wonder and romance into this whole moving business. It had been a year now, and it was as much a sensible, pragmatic progression in her step to being a...district nurse.

"Well fuck those fucking NHS bastards to fuck."

Though her outward demeanor emanated a cool yet weary optimism about the whole situation, Bethany was stirring fear and petty anger within herself at the whole situation. Gross misconduct for something that was so commonplace and of little risk or offense to anyone; patient or doctor. Still, she must move fast and seek out a new source of income, except for selling her unnecessary things off to sustain her very existence down here in the wild. Returning home, jobless and defeated would surely make her a laughing stock among everyone. Plus she would have to find a job up there too.

She ventured around, ready to throw herself at a new path in life. That path just needed to come. And she didn't know many people in this city, and it had been a year now. People at the hospital were either busy, overworked or dead and since she had no previous connections down here it still felt like she was a bit..out of place, swamped and unknown in this town. Nonetheless, she projected a carefully measured ambivalent zeal about her new world. It was just more in its pupating, early awkward stages of creation than she made it out to be.

"Who knows," Bethany pondered wistfully, "maybe the hospital thing was a sign, that I need to try something new, that the stress really would have been too much," her mind wandered back to extended meetings with a baudy and patronising occupational therapist, who seethingly and viciously recited line after line about "mentality building" and "stress management" and all other sorts of management-think bullshit.

So Bethany was taking her recent career destroying mishap as a beacon, a sign to dive into something new. She heard a vibrate in her handbag, stuffed full of poorly written CVs, makeup and various essentials, it was her phone!

Sunday 23 September 2012

We Knew That We Couldn't Survive

Leticia and Wesley considered their situation, knowing that things looked bleak. It was fast approaching sunset and they had yet to acquire even half of the money that they were supposed to have by midnight. Sprinkle would arrive at their door bang on the death of the evening and then they really would have had it. It was useless getting the police involved, and none of their friends wanted to be involved. Strangely enough Leticia fretted more at the disloyalty of her so-called loyal friends, who as it emerged would not rally round to help her in her moment of need. "Apparently not," she thought. Meanwhile Wesley grabbed an old wooden chair and rose to perch himself on it, his head in his hands and slowly considering the gravity of his situation. It was like he regressed back to the mentality of the sweet, pie-eyed teen tasting the world for the first time. Some sinister temporal force had transported him through time, space and mind to facing a gangland death, or severe beating. They had exhausted all options and could not conceive a way out of this.

"You know how in television shows people just run away at the drop of a hat, leave their job, family, friends, everything behind and just hop off somewhere and start afresh for the sake of the story?"

"Yeah, loads."

"Let's do that! I mean think about it, we have no way of paying these people back and they're probably gonna kill us, or kick our heads in bad, and/or steal our stuff. Lets just run away for a bit, take what we need."

"Are you sure? Where can we go? What are we gonna tell people?"

"We'll just explain when we get there. We can go tonight. We could go to Manchester. My sister lives there, I'll just phone and ask to stay with her, she's got a massive flat, and Sky Plus!"

"Your sister won't just let us turn up at her house at this short notice, will she? And what are you gonna do about work?"

"She's went right off the rails since she got sacked from the hospital. Last week she got a hamster, then took it back cos she thinks it was trying to kill itself. She'll be fine if I tell her why. She'll like the company, she's dead lonely dow there. Fuck work. I'll just phone and say I'm sick for a few days, or I've had a family emergency in Manchester and I need to go to Manchester cos my family's in Manchester. And my family is in Manchester."

"I dunno...how are we going to get there? Can we afford the train with £204.62 between us?"

"Yeah, we can get the train tonight. We'll pack some bags and just make our way to the station. If you check the trains I'll start packing our bags."

"Are we really going to do this? This does seem quite drastic, illogical and unjustified."

"Shut up with the English lesson. This is what you do, and this is what we're doing, like that Ryan Davidson from my work. He got into trouble with some kiddy porn on his laptop. I mean there was never any porn of that sort found anywhere on his computers as it turned out, but with things like that there's no smoke without fire, and everyone just turned against him. Poor guy, it was guilty before proven innocent, he had to run away, he went to Manchester and he had REAL PROBLEMS. Now granted this scenario is nothing like that but this is a REAL PROBLEM. We owe some very bad men an amount of money that we need to get to them tonight that we just cannot feasibly do. Otherwise we're going to die. Or worse. So I posit, that we tackle this REAL PROBLEM by escaping this city, this country altogether."

And they did. The Manchester train was at 27 minutes past 6 and would get them into the safety and anonymity of Manchester by half past 10. But an efficient and pleasant journey was not the priority in this expedition. No, the fact that Leticia and Wesley managed to get on a train and weave through the streets, avoiding bad men that might or might not be there. Paranoia was heavy on their heads too. Leticia packed a modest bag, of some artifacts and clothes, and things she would need for her journey. The gravity began to hit her too, and she paused and swayed for a moment, grasping what she was about to undertake. She would somehow have to explain this to her family and their friends would probably laugh about it eventually. She reached for her phone charger, threading it between her fingers as she began to ponder the amount of phone calls she would have to make in the next few days. Difficult and in a way incredible phone calls. "I've ran away to Manchester to escape some dealers who are after me and Wesley." would be the gist of them. "Can you watch the house, and err, not tell anyone anything." Their friends would surely be discussing it back home mockingly, with wild bemusement, and some concern for Wesley and Leticia's situation.

"So what!" she thought. They had shat it big style when the going had got tough, to put it one way. Wesley ad Leticia were left alone to deal with this, and for lack of money, this proved the best option, if they wanted to stay alive and well.

Wesley hurriedly tossed some t-shirts, jeans and his wallet, phone and what remaining money he had left. He picked up a docking station, probably irrelevant at this time but wincing as he discarded it, realising that it, and many other things he would have to discard, and he wasn't sure what he was running to, or what would be there for him when he came back. What would people say if they found out about this? Well... In an oncoming rush of sense it dawned that his mere survival was on stake at the moment, and keeping up appearances was a moot point if the former could not be fulfilled. So, like he was packing for an impromptu holiday, he filled two bags full of an assemble of essentials, for touristing or escaping the criminal underworld.

The warm swell of electric steam phased through the massive open-plan station building as Wesley and Leticia made their way through its towering arches and up to the ticket office. The essence of surreality began to set in as they handed over a series of crumpled up and sweaty £10 and £20 notes to produce two open return tickets to Manchester. It began to set in for Wesley as he glanced at the departure date on the open ticket, and for once in his life he really had no idea which date inbetween the 3rd September and the 2nd October he would be coming back. Or if he would come back and the whole ticket would be useless. Leticia seemed to be handling the gravity of the situation well, that she had even put on a pair of sunglasses for the journey seemed at best flagrant and defiant in Wesley's eyes. Or maybe she was just concealing some feelings more fraught and worried than excited.


After six unsuccessful calls Leticia viciously rattled out a text on her phone, imploring her sister to call her as soon as humanly possible. She poo-poo'ed the subject when Wesley inquired about her sister's response and permission to let them invade her life with their real problem for the time being. It was fruitless to discuss it now anyway as the tickets were bought and they had committed themselves to this epic journey, of sorts. It certainly felt more surreal and Wesley, as he slowly began to wonder if somehow cameras were tracking and recording such an event.

"I wish I'd brought sunglasses." He thought.

And so they boarded the train headed for Manchester. Their collective hearts jumped as Leticia's stupid Nicki Minaj ringtone sounded out against the hollows of all escapist escaping fantasy and the device vibrated wildly. Wesley's hands leaped to cover his mouth as Leticia answered the phone to her sister's frantic voice.

The conversation was quick, stunted and direct as Leticia plunged her finger into her ear to eliminate the noise from the grumbling train. She explained their situation briefly, skipping out important details, for the benefit of the public. Wesley's eyes sharpened as he considered that Leticia's unstable yet probably still quite compos mentis enough to instantly refuse an impromptu visit from her shallow younger sister and aloof and flaky friend, on a Wednesday night, no less.

And lone behold, she did. Maybe Leticia used some Jedi mind trick on her. Or maybe she was just rendered insane by boredom from unemployment and this latest drama will prove to lighten up her life, if only briefly. And as such, they were off into the night and off to Manchester



Thursday 20 September 2012

As He Sat Idly And Watched The Misty Rain Float Down

It was a mild day, cloudy and smirry with wet as cars and buses lashed in and out of weaving streets. Streets that weaved uncertain tales of urban something or other, confusing the humdrum crashing of a thousand plodding feet along them. It could have been any day but it definitely felt like a week day. Maybe Thursday. or Monday. He sat idly and watched the misty rain float down, cautiously approaching the wet tarred street. He had already skipped through the pages of most of the day, having closed his ears, eyes and doors to the world before 2 o clock. 2 o clock was not a significant hour of the day, that he felt it ample time to spring into action and join the ranks of humanity and society. No, 2 o clock was merely an agreeable time to rise from the depths of somnolence and begin a routine of conscious action for the day.

As he sat idly he felt the oncoming drudgery of work approaching. not that employment itself was brutish and unfeasible, more his trepidation stemmed from the process of getting oneself ready to suitably enter the workplace, or risk being observed, smelt or thought of differently. The many faces in that place, with few exceptions were cold and unfriendly, and he would do his best to avoid unnecessary pleasantries with them, for the benefit of everyone involved.

He had always felt out of place in these places, like a foreign invader unaccustomed and unwilling to participate in the rituals or adhere to the cultural do's and dont's. So be it.

It was a rainy afternoon, like any other and soon he would be in real boy's clothes, ready to participate in the day. Of the adventures that awaited him, none sounded too exciting, save for an exploding train or a runaway sandwich, the journey to and from meant the same, felt the same, smelt the same and tasted the same. Carbonated juice to ease the pain and small, short conversations about work, education and holidays to 'pass' as interested. But alas, there was fun and variety to be had in the rainy repetitious and nefarious world. He didn't even have to be 'he', so she knew this too. She was for the most part assured that recreational drugs and carbonated drinks and alcohol was what awaited her on the other side. and she could stare at the pretty lights and wonder aloud 'I want to be a part of them'


Tuesday 18 September 2012

Locked Away In A Cupboard From The World

Receding into a hermit-like state, stepping outside of the pace of life and generally staying in for a bit and not talking to no one.

Monday 17 September 2012

Cold

"And like a familiar benevolent enveloping warm, the spark of creativity returned."

"Holding your head under a towel and hot water and lemons is as much a relief from life as it is congested sinuses."

"Phase one of the plan is an extended period of silence."

"What would you do if I did a thing that was really annoying and it really annoyed you, would you be annoyed?"

I'm ill. So ill. Well, not that ill. I don't do ill well. I shudder to think how I'd handle a life-changing diagnosis. Probably freak out.

I caught my illness during freshers week, ironically its nothing that can be termed "Freshers Flu." Classes start back next week and I have prepared myself little to none. No extra reading done for dissertation. No books bought. As it is it looks like i'll be diving into Honours head-first. I'll fret now but it will be fine. The timetables also went out sometime recently, and I'm in every day, but it looks like Strathclyde's Sociology department are very receptive to the body clocks of their students, and not a single class choice, lecture or tutorial occurs before 11. Thus it's an hour to 2 hours every day, which is magic for going to the library and working. Or getting high.

The Delgados

I'm revisiting them once again. Beautiful, jarring and poetic pop, so out of its time and forward thinking. I stutter at my usual archive panic with their albums, but as youtube seems to kindly host most of their discography I'm getting into the vibe in a random order (by clicking random links on the suggestion vids on the right hand side)


Saturday 15 September 2012

All This Nonsense Happening Is Frazzling My Mind

"that cold is an omen...don't go back to the old streets or the old house... ever."

"the same man, with broken, charred teeth and a permanent broken, chapped frown gets on the same train as me every day at bellgrove and moves up to the top of the train ready to leave the train at queen street as close as possible to the ticket people, most likely to beat the oncoming rush of commuters at half 4 from the more central stations, the ones too close to queen street so the ticket inspectors don't/can't be bothered. Maybe I'll see him every day for the rest of eternity and eventually we'll strike up an unlikely friendship. or probably not, he looks old, alcoholic, irascible and likely smells. oh well, plenty more fish in the sea."

It's Real

It really is real. Real as in, summer is over and university starts back incredibly soon, and life reverts to normal, as they say. Well, summers are usually up and down for me (I suppose they are for everyone in the bipolar Scottish climate) but this one just sped by fleetingly, effectively making my last summer before my last year at university a crap one. My ingenius work schedule plan to give me a plethora of free time turned out badly as it emerges that people don't tend to do things from Mondays to Wednesdays. So as it is most of the things I did and people I saw and events I..undertook occurred before working the next morning. And predictably, the weather was a bit crap.

I can't shake the feeling that this summer was wasted. Perhaps they all start to trickle down the excitement drain of life as you stop getting a 'summer' away from the institution that makes you look forward to a reprieve from it.

Oh well. Starting back 4th year and winter will just have to be the most fun imaginable in those circumstances. They're frazzling my mind.

Sweden

It was fun. 7 days august into september with Billie, flying BA, staying in a lovely house in the middle of Stockholm (Billie's mum Gitte's friend from art school Marlin's mum's 'Winter house' meaning not the house she stays in during summer - the family are loaded). Days 1 through 5 were much fun, seeing old sites and returning to the house I used to live in in Enskede. The place is still as creepy as before and I even ventured into the creepy forest adjacent to it with video camera and Billie in tow. Also walked past my old school, Stockholm International School (International School of Stockholm when I was there) but didn't feel appropriate venturing in. It was actually a bit sad/nostalgic visiting them places, I always felt Sweden was a strange time in my life, less like a foreign adventure than an extended 'paradox' minigame level, in which I was suddenly whisked away there then ripped away from it and ushered back, more by fate than employment commitments. Despite getting a bit stressed out by the Sunday, and worn out by the monday, we thoroughly enjoyed the fun. Swedish people are largely a nice bunch, although their drink prices are insane (£7.50 for a glass of white wine, though I hear it's a similar story across other places in Europe, the touristey one). If anything it's instilled a niche for travelling, something I previously shunned as financially infeasible and needless, as I was pretty happy in sunny Glasgow. Hoping to go to Berlin, Amsterdam and possibly somewhere in France next year, and have a sizeable amount of people interested in it.

My new favourite song at the moment. My musical obsessions were bent on Yuck for a while, but Wild Nothing's neo-shoegaze pop is very alluring at this wistful, strange time of year (I hate September and so does America and Billie Joe Armstrong). Hopefully going to review him on 30th November, and if someone else snaps it up then so be it, I'll fork out the 8 quid.

"I'm stoned as fuck every day, 20 bags are getting smaller and smaller and food isn't tasting quite as good."

"My laptop's in the repair shop getting fixed again, goodbye £35."

"Once again consigned to the overdraft. I can't look after this damn money at all. Time for some serious money saving planning."

"Oh God, how much will Pukka pads cost this year?"

"I'm too ill even to get a hard on. It's frazzling my mind."