The trumpet has obviously been drinking.

Listening to Elliott Smith is like coming home.

The Kids Don't Stand A Chance.

I am supposed to be packing a suitcase right now. But I hate packing more than anything else, so I'm writing this instead and listening to Vampire Weekend's self-titled.

I always overlook this album. But it was a staple for a year, in 2008 (one of my favourite of all years; this one is a close contender right now). It also made me want to live in Cape Cod for a really long time.

I have a friend who was completely my partner in crime throughout primary school. Like, I get all reminiscent when I walk through neighbourhoods where she used to live almost as much as when I walk around the suburbs I grew up in, because I spent so much of my childhood there. We always stayed close, and we may as well be sisters, such is our camaraderie. I'm trying to think of a better way to describe it, but our relationship is very similar to mine and my sister's, so I'm sticking with that. She's someone I feel totally at ease around, and I only have that with a handful of people. She is also probably the first person I'll call up if I'm feeling upset or anxious about something, and vice versa. In short, she is awesome and I love her.

She is called Lydia.

Me and Lydia, in spite of our closeness, are polar opposites in most ways. Vampire Weekend was an album with which we shared a common musical ground. The first non-Beatles album we had a mutual love for. So in Spring 2008 when I pretty much moved in with her, this album was all we listened to. She brought it in to art classes, and our diamond of an art teacher fell in love with the album and it became the soundtrack for every art lesson.

I love this album because it evokes only good memories of that Spring. It reminds me of paint, and snow melting and drawing still life portraits of the animal skulls and trumpets and violins our art teacher collected.

I played it a lot during Summer '08, too. So it also reminds me of windy beaches with piers and lighthouses, and meeting my mother's extended family really for the first time, at a formal family reunion, and being excited about how well-dressed, and well-spoken and reserved and quintessentially English they all were. My whole life, I've been in the pockets of my father's extended family, who are very outspoken and outgoing and traditionally Indian, and as much as I love them, I'm not very good at being one of them. So the novelty of meeting Mum's estranged family was greatly appreciated. Listening to M79, or Walcott kind of captures exactly what that reunion was like, and conjures up images of not-quite strangers standing around in nice clothes on Spanish Brownstone drinking Darjeeling, and catching-up.

In the morning, Lydia is picking me up at nine and we're going somewhere for a week, but I don't know where yet. I'm excited. I might make us listen to this album the entire way up (or down).

I love Peanuts.

Linus is my favourite.

I have a cold, and I want to go outside.

My mother has given me the first camera she ever owned. It came with a hefty trunk of accessories, and it is a complete treasure trove of very pretty things that I don't know how to use yet. It is huge and clumsy and I am in love with it.

re: family members giving me weird presents this July, my brother came back from Hop Farm the other week, and our house was empty apart from me. He looked all mussed and dishevelled and he was grinning a lot, "I got you a present!" So he starts rooting through his bag and drags out this crumpled coffee-coloured towel, and I'm all, "Thanks?" And he's all, "No! No! It's Bob Dylan's! Cool, huh?" ( I realised that this doesn't sound at all like he talks, because he is the chillest bro, owing to smoking copious amounts of pot since he was my age, and always talks in this mumbly stoner drawl; but he did muster up a lot of enthusiasm for him). It didn't smell like Bob Dylan. Or like how I imagine Bob Dylan to smell, anyway. Which was disappointing. He then regailed me with the story of how he got it and how earnest and buzzing he was about the whole thing made me appreciate it a lot more. Even though I doubt Dylan ever used it (though, I like to imagine he's kept it since the 60s, where he and the Band would dry their hands on it, in Woodstock, when they were laying down the Basement Tapes. That would be sweet.)

I think the camera pips the towel though, in terms of weird presents from family members this Summer. Because I know how much my mother adored that camera, and it's a really sweet sentiment that she's given it to me.

Climb up to the top and drink and talk.

I feel good about myself this Summer for a bunch of reasons.
I'm comfortable in my own skin right now. So being social with strangers isn't some balancing act I have to get through. And I don't feel like I'd be a better person if I looked or acted differently. I'm just looking at myself in the right way.
I think grappling with body issues is pretty universal. And I used to think, and I knew how silly it was, that I'd feel a lot better about myself if I were fatter. I wanted chubbiness. I craved overhang. I wanted to be doughy and squishy and cuddlesome.
This wasn't because I thought I looked that bad. I didn't look malnourished. And I do believe that any body-type can be attractive (y'know, unless you're morbidly under/over-weight). I was just tired of being confronted by the idea that "Real Women have Curves" or that skinny girls are probably suffering from some eating disorder and hate themselves. Because I come across these opinions so frequently, and it's as narrow-minded as thinking that someone who is overweight is hilarious, or gross, or comfort eats because they hate themselves. It's brainless.
I've stopped resenting the fact that I have a slight, boyish figure now. I kind of love the fact. After discussing it with a friend with the same hang-up, we realised there's a few perks we can embrace; like, we could still climb trees if we wanted to, and we can get away with wearing less when it's hot, without looking like we're dressing provocatively and stuff like that.

Oh, and my style icon for this Summer is Anna Karina. She manages to pull off something most people see as bland- unstraightened brown shoulder-length blah hair- and make it sexy. I think I wrote in my last post about how growing out my hair was giving me the blues. Or at least that I was getting frustrated and bored with it. But seeing how she used to rock that look is making me a lot less inclined to reach for a pair of scissors, straighteners or bottle of hair dye. I couldn't want to do anything less.

This year I was pretty grossly lazy, regarding academia. I had a bunch of excuses:
I wasn't exactly unmotivated. If I'm not doing something remotely productive, I'm unhappy. So I always set myself projects. Thing is, these projects were very rarely, if ever, relevant to school. I justified this with a kind of Twain-esque mindset ("I tried to never let my schooling get in the way of my education,") in that I didn't think anything I was learning at school was related to anything I really cared about. I don't think I can use that excuse anymore.
Also, for some reason I was struggling with the most everyday things. Like, does anyone have any idea how difficult it is to try and fix your eating and sleeping patterns if you've completely messed them up? I was all over the place. And I was getting into a lot of trouble when I really wasn't trying to be defiant. Which I think is quite funny. But I also caused a lot of concern when I didn't deserve it. Which I don't think is all that funny.
Not to mention my being a little paralysed by all my options for next year. So instead of going to a lot of open days, and exploring my options and applying to a lot of places etc., I opted to just do nothing. I've sorted that out now, though. Thank God for how understanding people can be sometimes.

In short, I fucked up at school a lot last year. Without really meaning to, and the whole thing is kind of embarassing. I'm determined to ace my A levels, though. Partly because my family have tried to invalidate every subject I've opted to do (especially French, which is the thing I am most desperate to improve in) and I guess I'm trying to Stick It to the Man, but also because I do love everything I'm learning about next year. I might write a post about my Summertime academic reading/watching list, because I'm enjoying those books/films.

I'm glad I caught up with a bunch of people I really value and have missed. Reunions I are something I tend to avoid, because I dread being stuck in an awkward, stunted conversation, where small talk is underwhelming (if you have been absent for two years of person's life, it seems irrelevant to ask them how their week has been) and it's hard to just jump in and fill someone in on all of the Big Things that have happened to you, and to try and set them in context. Or try to justify the dumb, hedonistic things you did that took up a lot of your headspace and dictated how you acted (hi, excessive amphetamine usage during Spring!) I wish I didn't have that mindset, though, because in most cases, it's so easy to pick up where you left off. And nice and familiar. Also, I always use my lack of interest in social networking (I don't have Facebook 'cos I am a rebel) to excuse myself for not keeping in touch with people. And okay, it does make me less accessible (and, obviously, other people less accessible to me) but there are so many other ways to maintain friendships with people. I just need to remember to make the effort, because it is so worth the effort.

On a related note, I have the most awesome people in my life right now, and I'm grateful for every one of them. They won't let me be boring.

On another related note, I've lost someone who used to be a Big Part of my life, and it hasn't affected me as badly as I thought it would. The whole thing seems a little ridiculous and surreal. I think I initiated it by not reciprocating how close said person thought we were and telling them so, and I didn't anticicipate how violently they would react. I just didn't want to pretend.
I feel guilt for upsetting them that much, but beyond that, I'm apathetic towards it. I don't feel a sense of loss and this should be a Big Deal. That apathy actually bothers me more than the issue itself. Last year, this would have been crushing. That's so distant now.

So, yeah. For (most of) the above reasons, I've felt very happy this Summer.

I need to remember to start keeping a sketchbook again, though. That could only improve everything tenfold.

ANDandand, I've also missed my bedroom and am so happy to be in it right now.

That's everything.

Look outside! I know that you'll recognize it's Summertime.

In a couple of days, I have my last exam for this year.

I had an awesome half term, but these past couple of weeks have been monotonous and boring, and I've felt monotonous and boring, because I'm cancelling plans all the time because I'm exhausted or studying or sitting an exam. And it's not been any fun. This morning, I was riding a high. I was sitting on my bed revising history, happy as a clam, and I didn't realise until I started singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow that I was giddy because of the Glee finale last night. And as much I love Glee, (I think I just lost some hipster cred or something) that should never be the highlight of a person's fortnight (even though it was really great, wasn't it? Like, how emotional were you when Sue voted for New Directions?). Exams have left me starved for entertainment, and I'm desperate to get out of the house and out of the town and go to the beach or the capital or somewhere new.

Thankfully, I have a tiny manageable Ethics paper left. That's it. Then it's Summer. And I am really excited this year. I've a lot of awesome plans; some of which are long-anticipated plans, some are plans to go the beach and the capital, family holiday plans, and some of which are accidental and I can't get out of them, so fuck it, I'll make the most of it (I'm looking at you, French Alps trip I somehow agreed to go on). Mostly, I'm looking forward to inevitable spontaneous things. And days when I'm not doing anything else and can:

Paint my room.

Watch all of these Woody Allen DVDs I have and haven't starting watching yet.

Mosey on down to friends' houses and have fun lazy nights in.

Sleep

Revisit sunny day records (mainly lots and lots of the Thermals, who remind me of visiting theme parks and holidays and Summer in general).

Of course, days where you have no plans often turn out to be the best days; there's nothing to do, and there being nothing to do, there's everything to do. That's when the spontaneity kicks in.

Until this friday, though, all I have to look forward to is my day off from exams tomorrow. I'm gonna get my hair cut. I think my mind began to wander during a science exam, and suddenly it hit me that my hair was getting really long. It was one of those days where I got caught up in a Bruce Springsteen-esque funk and wanted to change my clothes, my hair, my face. Feeling so dissatisfied with myself and my appearance is probably why, throughout high school, I've been given to drastic hair cuts, and my hair has rarely been allowed to grow past chin-length. And probably why I dyed my hair blackblackblack for years (it's a red-brown now). There've been times when I've been determined to grow it, but I always get bored and give up before it gets to my shoulders. It's just resting there now.

Thing is, I love cutting my hair off, because of the initial surprise I get when I happen to play with it, or wash it, or style it and realise it's all gone. But after the novelty wears off, I realise I'm far off from having heavy long tresses, and that I'm going to have to go through that boring middly stage (what my hair is at now) to get it anywhere near as long as I want it. So, I don't think I'll get my head sheared tomorrow. I'm happier now in my appearance than I've ever been. I guess I just want to cut it off because I'm bored. And a haircut won't change anything anything internally, or even externally, really. Plus, how am I going to cultivate a spectacular pile of hair like this if I keep cutting it off?

PLUS, when my hair was at it's shortest (and blackest) I got the nickname El Beatle. Looking through old photos now, I realise the Beatle I most closesly resembled was definitely Ringo. That is never a good look for a teenage girl.

I also need to remember to, amongst doing funner things this weekend, send out job applications- I'm growing up. I hate myself for saying this, but a lot of the time it seems the amount of money you spend corresponds with how memorable your experiences are. Not always, but enough times. And I hate relying on my parents to pay for things.

Music I Like in Films I Like.

I keep finding ways to distract myself from revising.America- Simon&Garfunkel (Almost Famous)

After I watched Almost Famous for the first time, this was the scene that stuck in mind. In the way On the Road is the ultimate travelling book, America is the ultimate travelling song. It describes the experience so well, from killing time with your friends ("Counting the cars","Playing games with the faces") to quiet, solitary moments of beauty ( "The moon rose over an open field.") My favourite line in the whole song, though, describes the kind of disconnected malaise you can get caught up in from spending too much time away from everything familiar to you, "Kathy, I'm lost... I'm empty and aching and I don't know why."

It's an anthem; I've a lot of memories of everyone singing along to this song on long trips that are reminiscent of the infamous Tiny Dancer scene in this film. And it's really hard to listen to this song, especially if you're going somewhere new, and not feel excited to be alive. Which Zooey Deschanel plays out perfectly when she sits her super conservative mother (Frances McDormand) down and tells her, "This song explains why I'm leaving home to become a stewardess," before running onto the street, beaming, hair in rollers, jumping into the passenger seat of her boyfriend's car and rolling off.

These Days- Nico (The Royal Tenenbaums)

There's a load of memorable music moments in this film. The uses of Fly by Nick Drake and She Smiles Sweetly/Ruby Tuesday by The Rolling Stones are favourites, and it's a close-run thing, but I think this scene tops them. When I'm in a funk, watching this film is something I do to cheer myself up. This never fails to make me smile.

Vessel In Vain- Smog (Dead Man's Shoes)
"God will forgive them. He'll forgive them and allow them into heaven and I can't live with that."

This is a good film that I have no desire to ever watch again. It's bleak and dark and harrowing. There's one moment of comic relief near the beginning, and rest of the film is pretty devastating, and hard to watch. The opening is a gritty super-8 montage of the two central brothers from the film growing up together in the midlands, set to this song, and it sets the tone for the rest of the film perfectly.

Shampoo Suicide- Broken Social Scene (Half Nelson)

Half Nelson is worth watching for this scene alone, because it really needs to be watched in context, because it's amazing.

The Star Spangled Banner- Gogol Bordello (Everything is Illuminated)
They're very different, and I definitely prefer Jonathon Safran Foer's novel to the film, but the one thing the book is lacking that the film has in abundance is Eugene Hutz, who plays Alex who is a premium character. One of my favourite moments in the film is when Gogol Bordello show up with Eugene to greet Jonathon (Elijah Wood), and serenade him with the American national anthem. They just look so adorably earnest and Jonathon looks so confused. So funny.
Also the scene with Sunflower by Paul Cantelon is pretty.

The Winner Is/ How It Ends- DeVotchKa (Little Miss Sunshine)

I was going to write about the driving montage in this film set to Sufjan Stevens' Chicago, but Everything is Illuminated reminded me of How It Ends by DeVotchKa (it was used in the trailer for that film), which is an underrated theme, so I'm writing about that instead. The film opens with a close up of Olive's bespeckled eyes, and this song. It's really melancholic and pretty and it was stuck in my head for days after I watched the film.

There's some glaring omissions, and I'll probably update this when I have spare time.

It seems sad '80s pop was my childhood niche.

Right now, I'm listening to The Cure's Disintegration in it's entirety, for the first time in five years, I think. Which seems longer than it is. I'll always think of this album as being huge, because it was such an integral part of my musical education. I first heard it when I was nine, I think, and my big sister, then sixteen and going through an angst teenage goff phase, burned me a copy to play on my Sony Walkman. It was one of the only albums I owned, so I would just play it again and again and again, until I knew every song inside out, even the ones I didn't like that much at first(Lullaby and Fascination Street). And listening to it for the first time, on my headphones, it was huge. And Plainsong was just such an explosive, euphoric, romantic opening to me, then. I still love it now.

Listening to it again, I can't be objective about it, because there's too much nostalgia involved. The songs I loved, I still love now. The first three tracks are still saccharine and dreamy and heart-wrenching, which is what drew me in in the first place. But I couldn't see myself listening to it on a daily basis like I used to. Maybe that's because I'm treating it with the kind of condescening feeling (not quite embarassment, but close) people tend to treat things they used to love and have moved on from with. I don't know, but for whatever reason, it doesn't bowl me over anymore. It holds up- it's a great album- but it just doesn't resonate with me as much as it used to.

Anyway, it's still a nice throwback to childhood and it's comforting and it's a nice way to cap off a week where I've sat eight exams (which is more exhausting than it sounds).

On a related note, this morning I was listening to one of the other first CDs I owned (I've been on a nostalgia kick), which was the first CD I ever went into a record shop and bought; a collection of the Smiths' singles. While Disintegration was an album for long journeys, I would rotate the Smiths whilst playing Mario Party Four on my brother's gamecube for hours on end. Listening to that again was a similar thing. Difference is, Disintegration reminds me of some tragic, romantic, frankly embarassing ideology I had as a child, and The Smiths' singles reminds me of psyching myself up for frustrating mini-games like Trace Race. Which was the worst, because the crayon just did what it wanted, no matter how carfeul you were.

Disintegration's finishing up now. I forgot how sweet the closer is.

Hungry Bread and Butter Hustle.

Let's celebrate banjos!
Because they're my favourite instrument of right now. My favourite album of right now is Department of Eagles' In Ear Park, which I'm always revisiting again and again. Overall, I've always thought of it as being an autumnal album, but the closer, Balmy Night, is completely perfect for Summer, and it has some magic banjo.


Also good are bicycles. Go out for a bike ride, head in directions only on instinct, do the opposite of what you think you should do. When you inevitably get lost, listen to this song, melt into the evening.

How Many Nights of Limping 'Round on Pagan Holidays?

"I remember waking up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct moment in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was- I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling, and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger."

I just got back from Cologne.
My first day in the city was strange.
I woke up in Calais feeling not so great. I was very meloncholic and anxious, and I couldn't shake the feeling any more than I could place what was causing it; I still can't, really. It was very early in the morning, and everyone else was asleep, so I took a beachside walk. I sat on the sand and watched the ferries coming in and made patterns with the sea shells, and that was fine. The five hour car ride to Germany wasn't.
This was weird, because I normally crave long journeys of all kinds. And they're every bit a part of the Summer. But in that moment, there was nothing I wanted less than to be stuck with myself in the backseat for any length of time. I couldn't decide what to listen to, so I switched from album to album, and eventually decided nothing was sounding good, gave up on music, books and scenery and went to sleep instead.
When I got there, I wandered around the city for a couple of hours. Up and down the streets, around the cathedral and along the Rhein. For whatever reason, I couldn't allow myself to be inundated with whatever beauty there was in the city that day (and there was so much, if looked at in the right way). It was just a really off day, and I was appreciating nothing.
I just locked myself in my hotel room, curled up on the sofa and stuck on a record that I didn't have to pay attention to because I know it inside out. Maybe not a favourite, or an album that I think is technically the best (I never really cared for the first two tracks much), but an album that I can always go back to when I need it, because it is just so comforting. And honest and gentle and devastating. It was Elliott Smith's self-titled.
I'm going to add that The Biggest Lie is one of my favourite closers to any album, and that its probably the best song to listen to through headphones when you're sulking in a hotel room by yourself on a rainy Summer evening in a beautiful foreign city.

I fell in love with the place the next day, though. I'd go back in a heartbeat.

Making coffee.

I've been awake for hours, but I need it to function properly.
It's really sunny outside and this performance made me really happy last night.

Sunny Day Jams.

Cute video.

Also, Radio Dept.'s 'Clinging to a Scheme' is full of sunny day jams. 'Heaven's on Fire' is the most fun, for me.

Play the ones that we all know best.

Right now, I can't stop listening to I don't do crowds by Camera Obscura. Easily my favourite; it would be my theme song, probably.

Last night was the night of my high school prom. I don't know whether or not I'll apply for sixth form at my school and stay for another two years. If so, last night was just another good night with people I'll be mostly seeing a lot of for another two years, and if not, it's a nice way to remember everyone altogether, which I guess is the point.

No one was excited. Everyone at school had been bitching for weeks about how disappointing it would be.

Of course, that's just kind of reflective of how everyone had been feeling about school recently. In about a month, school's over and then a lot of people are going to a different sixth form, or college, or wherever. And most people I talk to are "desperate to start somewhere new." They're tired of everyone around them, and of themselves, and of the building. I have no idea what I'm going to do. My friend, Joanna, was talking to me about college, where she took art and showed me every project she'd done over the past two years. There were lots of 'three minute projects'. One of them, she'd based off of postsecret, and it was the same idea, but instead of secrets, it was wishes posted by people at her college;

6 people wished for a boyfriend/girlfriend

1 wished for world domination

2 wished for a change in their physical appearance

3 wished for money

2 wished for better health

1 wished for forgiveness

1 wanted to meet someone new

10 wished to go somewhere new

17 wished for a fresh start

It didn't surprise me that wanting a fresh start was the most common wish, but it made me sad when I thought of everyone starting new colleges and sixth forms for that reason and how in a couple of years' time some of them would still be unhappy where they were and desperate to get out and go somewhere new. They'll still be tired of themselves.

The general consensus was that prom was probably going to be very boring, with everyone being too sober to want to dance, or talk to anyone outside of their social cliques. But it wasn't like that. I think because everyone was anticipating that kind of prom, they made a conscious effort to avoid it being like that. So everyone was trying to be sweet, and kind of silly. The most obvious conscious effort at silly was when one kid ran into the hall, flailing arms poking out of a makeshift cardboard/tinfoil robot costume, past the tables where everyone was sitting, onto the empty dancefloor, where he tore off his robot head and stomped it, revealing that he was someone who is normally very reserved. Okay, I didn't fully get this at the time, but I think his reasoning behind this entrance was his effort to avoid the awkward, boring prom scenario. Or to make a lasting impression since it's a month before we all finish school. I'm not sure. But anyway, prom was more fun than we all expected.

After prom was over, it was too hot to stay indoors. we all kind of congregated outside the hotel where it was at, which was next to some road signs and fields and not much else. The rain had been coming down really hard all night, and flooded the roads so we were all stuck there for an hour or so. Some of us were sitting on this wet picnic bench, being sentimental. Talking about plans for next year, and what we'd remember from the past five years, and looking around at everyone. They were waiting around in the downpour, in their dresses and tuxes and cardboard robot torsos, illuminated only by the hotel windows and sometimes headlights from one of the few passing cars. No one cared about the rain. No one looked unhappy; they all looked really grateful and smiley. They kept saying thank you. It was really endearing.

Eventually, the rain became softer and we started seeing more and more cars drive past. And driving home that night in the rain, one of my favourite songs came on (Fine for Now by Grizzly Bear), and I can't think of a song more fitting for last night. Listening to that, watching the rain streak the passenger seat window, there was no part of me that wanted to be anyone else.

Sit on your porch and pluck your strings.

I have to share this. Because I have a real soft spot for sentimental songs with cute stop-motion videos. D'aww.

It's a desperately sad song, but the end has got this hopeful urgency that makes the whole thing somehow really uplifting. In this way, it reminds me of Casimir Pulaski Day by Sufjan Stevens, which retains the same kind of optimism in the face of loss. I can completely lose it listening to that song (the line "and the cardinal hits the window" always gets to me for some reason), but I always revisit it and it's one of my favourites because of how elated I feel after listening to it. And Blood affected me in a similar way.
I'm beginning to really love this band.

Awesome.

I have weird memories of you.

The song City Middle by The National is giving me crazy nostalgia. I probably avoided listening to it for so long for that reason. I still love it as much.

I haven't slept and I have no idea what I'm doing after July.

Buff.

This made my day.

.

"We've gone on holiday by mistake."

This would probably be the best thing that ever happened. Ever.

I'm not sure why I haven't written in a while. I haven't really done anything in a while. I'm in a familiar state where I'm caught between trying to live my life and trying to run away from it. I hate when I get like this. I realised that a big part of why I act like this is that I'm very impressionable. It only takes something very slight to inspire and carry me for a long time. I'll hear a great song on the way to school and be lifted all day. Or see a particularly great film, or read a book and be mulling over it for a month. And everything I come across will seem relevant to it, and as inspired, and not ordinary at all. I'll just let myself be exposed to whatever, and try to appreciate it. In this way, I'm frustratingly passive. I'd love to have more urgency.

Another reason is that, recently, everything got really stressful really fast, so I'm choosing to ignore it.

I saw most of Ireland through the backseat rental car window. It was always fogged up, and the sun through the glass gave the entire place the feel of old Polaroids. In my mind, it's a collage of telephone masts, road signs, and rows of painted houses with green and white bunting. I like remembering it like this. My travelling companions were my three childhood best friends. We'd gone to seperate high schools, and would only occasionally slip in and out of eachother's lives and social circles, and it was strange to find ourselves stuck in the middle of nowhere with eachother. I'm so glad that we did, because I hadn't realised how much I'd missed them, until I was subjected to all their old quirks and habits that I recognised and took comfort in. Can we go get lost again, guys? And just stay in bed eating baked goods and watch B-horror-movies all day again, guys?

Also, earlier this week, Withnail & I was on, which I hadn't seen in far too long. It is easily one of my favourite films. It's just so bittersweet. I don't think any other film can make me laugh as much, while making me as melancholic as that film. It reminded me of my last week (except with a little more butchery, alcoholism and attempted buggery) and made me crave getting away again. I love Marwood as a narrator; he's completely anxiety-ridden and I can identify. I need to find me a rich uncle's cottage right now.

I am a visitor here, I am not permanent.

Sometimes, I forget how fragile and fleeting and uncertain our lives are.

"I used many times to touch my own chest and feel under its asthmatic quiver, the engine of the heart and lungs and blood and feel amazed at what I sensed was the enormity of power I possessed. Not magical power, not all that Carrie teenage telekenetic wank, but real power. The power to simply go on, the power to endure, that is power enough, but I felt I had also the power to create, to add, to delight, to amaze and to transform. Yet I was unwanted, rejected and unthought of. No one believed in me."

Whenever I remember, I feel overcome with love for all things living and their musings and emotions; hopes and fears. I take a morbid comfort in the fact that we are all destined for death, not long for this world, and that everyone is united by simply being alive right now and sharing their lives with others. People are arrogant, selfish and shallow, but when I'm honest with myself, I can't help but love humanity. Because I really believe that most people are trying to do their best, even if their attempts are misguided.

I read the news today, Oh Boy.

In the year below me at school, there are two refugee boys from Afghanistan. They joined the school last term, and are very unfamiliar with our culture. I don't want that to sound patronising. It's just true- for example, neither of them can speak english.
The school bulletin this morning described how a group of boys in my year took it upon themselves to attack these boys. Attack. That was the word that was used. It makes me feel sick.
Of course, I am and angry and disgusted. They made victims of people who were in need of looking after; people who were under circumstances that are likely to make them feel nervous or vulnerable; people younger than them. The frustrating thing is that I'm not surprised. My year group is notorious for acting like this. I really do love people, but I don't know how to relate to people like these, even though they're people I'm surrounded by every day. I know that I don't have the capacity to justify doing something like that and I don't know how to understand people who do these things.
Everyone has a sob story. Everyone has a secret that could break your heart. But sometimes, it doesn't matter.
In three years, I will have left school. In ten years, I doubt many of the people at my school, other than my friends, will be able to remember me. A lot of the time, I am frustrated with myself for being so inhibited at school, but occasionally, like right now, I'm very glad to be apart.

The song Two by The Antlers is amazing but so, so sad.

You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up, built the gears in your head,
now he greases them up. And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating. "Eighty-seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.

Got bitten fingernails and a head full of the past.

I would kill for a very long night-time drive right now.

I can't stop thinking about a friend of mine. Whether it's because I am still angry at them for the hurt they caused me, or because I am worried about them, or because I love them helplessly, I cannot tell. Right now, it's hard to distinguish between wanting to scream at them, or wanting scoop them up in my arms and tell them to be okay. Being beside them is overwhelming and paralyses me. Our conversations are faltering and short-lived, our mannerisms awkward and hesitant.

Unlike my friend, I do not know how to burn bridges. I am too sentimental to sever connections with someone I am fond of. It's unbearable.

What hurts me the most is her revealing that every beautiful story she told me about herself, from her recurring dreams about death to her crying along to Sufjan Stevens on a bus, was fabricated. Because, to me, it means that I have lost her. Really lost her. The person she was to me, the troubled, sensitive, dynamic, amusing, angst-filled, naive, adoring firework of a person she created for me is gone, and she's doing everything she can to destroy that person. Even small things, like nicknames, have been dismissed. There's a wilderness between us now. I do not know whether the loss I feel is over losing this friend, or losing my idea of her.

Shyness is nice, but shyness can stop you.

The snow on fog meant that the world was wedding-cake white. It was the kind of day that is just begging to be watched silently and left undisturbed. Ideally, I wanted to be a recluse today. Stay in with coffee and DVDs. Cacoon myself in blankets and observe the day through my living room window. But school was open, so instead I got a snowball in my eye and felt uncomfortable walking home on the icy paths. I get self concious when I walk by myself, but far more so when I can barely walk straight.

I really wish I wasn't so self aware. It would be so much easier to let myself commit senseless acts of kindness and beauty. Right now, I do small things that go unnoticed and hope that they will make someone feel better. An uplifting postit, some hopeful graffiti. And I would feel great to know that these little deeds have affected anyone in a positive way. I just want to be more reckless eventually. It's so easy to try to make others feel better without even reaching out. To just relate to them from afar. I want to be able to open up to most people. I guess another resolution for 2010 is to be the kind of person who can have an easy, heartwarming conversation with a stranger, and be able to tell them directly, "I hope that life your life is as beautiful as you dream it. You deserve to be happy." That would be better.
It is very, very hard to do this with social anxiety, because you feel that everyone is judging your every word and action, inwardly criticising you, so you leave them with nothing to judge and act like a shell of a person. I would really love to shed this shyness.

Here's some encouraging banners for anyone feeling in need of them.

I heart Heartland

Owen Pallett's new album, Heartland, is streaming here. It is stupendous. Highlights for me are Lewis Takes Action and 'E' is for Estranged. In fact, the latter is probably my new favourite Final Fantasy song.

I ♥ Music Videos

I surely do, more than I can express. The marrying of beautiful imagery and audio can be just breathtaking. Three or so minutes of perfection. That would be my dream lifestyle, really- to direct music videos. Whilst living out in the Mojave Desert. Mmm.
These are some of my favourite music videos from the past ten years. The ones that have inspired and affected me the most, and others that I just think are fun.
The Shins- Australia
This is a good example of a very fun video. What illustrates freedom better than a bunch of escaped convicts with tangerine balloons?

Department of Eagles- No One Does It Like You
I love Department of Eagles. No One Does It Like You is an eerie and beautiful song. The video truly does it justice. A beautifully choreographed battle sequence, complete with dancing amputees and singing ghosts.

The Postal Service- We Will Become Sillhouettes
I wish my life was like this music video.

Decemberists- Sixteen Military Wives
This video is very reminiscent of the film Rushmore, which is probably why I love it so much.

Beach House- Used To Be
This song means an awful lot to me, and so does the video. To me, it just captures the loss that comes with freedom. The loneliness you contract from being nowhere for too long. It's so Summery and beautiful.


I will definitely add to this.

White Hinterland

So I am crazy in love with this
White Hinterland- Icarus
It is a simple lovely dreamy pop song, that is perfect listening for snowy weather. I'll probably be listening to it on repeat until our snow melts.

Won't You Bring Light To My Day?

I watched my very first episode of How I Met Your Mother today and loved it. The episode was called Intervention and during the last scene I realised that I recognised and loved the song playing. That's always an exciting kind of familiarity, especially if it's a song you've half forgotten. The song was Coming Home by the 88, and I got warm fuzzies because of it.

I love making lists. My current wishlist:

The last Death Cab tee I ordered never arrived, so I'm a little hesitant.

Really, I want this for the Young Pilgrim's maze.
On a Summer Night print by Patrick Moberg.
This would be form over function, except that I've wanted a Holga for months. Its so pretty.

Me So Way-lo

Whatever Way-lo is Furby-speak for...

My brother just doodled a kickass furby and now I'm pining for my very own. My older brother and sister each had one back in the nineties. But not me. They both had a fully sized, mechanical, incoherent english speaking ball of fun. All I had was a half sized furby plush with a chipped beak. I loved it very much of course, but it just wasn't the same. They had the real thing and I had second best. They had Coca-Cola and I had pepsi. The jealousy consumed me. So, obviously, a resolution for 2010- obtain a Furby, a proper Furby, at some point over the course of the decade.

I know that it isn't something to rush into. I don't want it to end up forgotten and unloved like my siblings' furbies, festering away in a dusty cupboard. So I've assessed carefully all the various kinds of furbies (who knew there were so many?), and have decided to get a Mink furby (bottom right). It shall be called Tenenbaum.

In an earlier post, I included some Bon Iver visual art. I took this from a collection by hypemachine, where the 50 most blogged musical artists of 2009 were celebrated with some gorgeous visual art. I love stuff like this. Here are my favourites.

Sufjan Stevens by Patrick Moberg

Camera Obscura by Chris Govias

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart by Khoi Vinh

Lykke Li by Nitzan Ron

Au Revoir Simone by Emery Norton

Radiohead by Jordan Rutherland

Fanfarlo by Calvin Muse
TV on the Radio by Andrea Foht

Andrew Bird by Ben Lovosky

This one is my favourite, but the Bon Iver one is a close second.

Wilco by Sergio Serrano

Remember Earth Clearly (part two)

What one moment for you defines what its like to be alive on this planet? What's your best memory of Earth?
I can try and describe mine for you.
Its Summer 2008 and its a small town in central France called Bort-Les-Orgues that I visit often, and have grown to love unconditionally. I'm sitting at a cafe table on a hill overlooking the Dordogne River, reading my now favourite book for the first time with a plate of tagliatelle in front of me. It was a hot day, but not overwhelmingly so- no shimmying trees melting in the distance- just sunshine ebbing along with the river and an awesome blue sky. And in the midst of this beauty, I'm alone with the pages I'm reading.
I can't remember whether I said thank you.
I finish the book. My mother and my brother are now sitting across from me and I can hear them talking and joking and laughing. I begin to start playing with an empty coke glass in front of me, considering how what I had just read had affected me. The sunlight coming through the glass plays irredescence off the last pages of the book. And I just sit there and let the moment happen. I watch the rainbows dance around the type, and the sunshine surf across the water and the sky is clear and bright and infinite, and so am I.

Remember Earth Clearly (part one)

"Snow," says Claire, at the very moment a hailstorm of doves erupts upward from the brown silk soil of the yard next door.
"I'll always remember the first time I saw snow. I was twelve and it was just after the first and biggest divorce. I was in New York visiting my mother and was standing beside a traffic island in the middle of Park Avenue. I'd never been out of LA before. I was entranced by the big city. I was looking up at the Pan Am Building and contemplating the essential problem of Manhattan."
"Which is-?" I ask.
"Which is that there's too much weight improperly distributed: towers and elevators, steel, stone and cement. So much mass up so high that gravity itself could end up being warped- some dreadful inversion- an exchange program with the sky. I was shuddering at the thought of this. But right then my brother yanked at my sleeve because the walk signal light was green. And when I turned my head to walk across, my face went bang right into my first snowflake ever. It melted in my eye. I didn't even know what it was at first, but then I saw millions of flakes- all white and smelling like ozone, floating downward like the shed skin of angels. Even Alan stopped. Traffic was honking at us, but time stood still. And so, yes- if I take one memory of Earth away with me, that moment will be the one. To this day, I consider my right eye charmed."
"Perfect."'
- Generation X by Douglas Coupland

This day was an exceptionally beautiful day. The sky was clear and blue and icy, and the sunlight on the snow made a dizzying sparkle on the Earth, as though somebody had covered it in glitter while everyone else was asleep. I felt myself overcome with awe and gratitude just looking at it. I felt alive, and homesick for being alive all at once. Today isn't how I'd like to remember Earth, though. I'll come to that later.

First, I want to share this song.
. re: stacks- Bon Iver
Its melancholy, ethereal and perfect for watching flurries of snow through panes of glass. Vernon's sublime vocals guide you through the mind of a man who has given up- a wasteland of loss, alcoholism and apathy- and rarely are such things so beautiful or soothing. The artwork is by Alex Witjas.

I feel a bit too Charlie Brown right now...

Are you the favourite person of anybody? That's a loaded question. Ask someone you know, and you're almost guaranteed some uncomfortableness. Worst case scenario- either
a) they'll tense up, shake their head, then confide in you about a crippling loneliness all the while crying on your shoulder and you feel like an asshole for asking the question or...
b) they'll respond with a thoughtful "Yeah", then smile with a smugness and distance that obviously means they're thinking about that person. And you'll feel a pang of jealousy and an overwhelming urge to kick their shins. That'll teach them to be beloved.

It is a loaded question, but its intriguing all the same. As is wondering whether or not you have a favourite person yourself.

I first watched this short a few months ago. At the time, in spite of being surrounded by people I loved, I felt desperately alone. A huge factor, I think, in that is that didn't have a favourite person, nor was I the favourite person of anybody. In hindsight, I was being overly co-dependant. I still don't have a favourite person, nor am I the favourite person of anybody, but I don't feel as inadequate for it as I used to. I console myself with the idea that it isn't always a positive thing to have or be a favourite. It is so rare that someone can invest everything in another, and even rarer that the investment will be mutual. Rarer still that neither party will be hurt by this. Surely its better to love and be loved by many. It is less responsibility for everyone involved. That's what I'm trying to console myself with.

Still, I could sure use some oranges right now...