Thursday
Music is my radar
For me, a love for music is a love that needs no reason, confusion or technicalities. It is a love that needs no gimmicks, or embarrassment or long words. It is a love that needs no apologies. It is a love, quite like real love, that has no boundaries. If you love a particular band or song or album, chances are that it, quite simply, agrees with your ears, your head and your heart all at once. For me, that is a more perfect reason than any other to keep listening to that band, or song or album until it becomes a part of you. Talk about it, rave about it, gush about it constantly. It makes you happy, and that, for me, is reason enough.
Soundtrack to my life
I wrote this while thinking about someone very special to me :)
His voice is always in my head, even when he’s miles away. It is, unarguably, one of the most comforting things you could ever hope to experience. Much like waking up every morning, breathing, or walking, it is not something I particularly think about on a daily basis. I just simply accept that it is there, in my ears. I hear it, in the form of his childlike, full-bellied laugh, when I am watching something funny on television. I hear it in the form of his deep, effortless, beautiful singing voice when I’m listening to a song that he loves or knows all the words to. I hear it, when I am sad, in the form of his gentle, comforting, warm, compassionate voice. His calm, familiar voice is, in a way, the most precious soundtrack to my life. Press play.
His voice is always in my head, even when he’s miles away. It is, unarguably, one of the most comforting things you could ever hope to experience. Much like waking up every morning, breathing, or walking, it is not something I particularly think about on a daily basis. I just simply accept that it is there, in my ears. I hear it, in the form of his childlike, full-bellied laugh, when I am watching something funny on television. I hear it in the form of his deep, effortless, beautiful singing voice when I’m listening to a song that he loves or knows all the words to. I hear it, when I am sad, in the form of his gentle, comforting, warm, compassionate voice. His calm, familiar voice is, in a way, the most precious soundtrack to my life. Press play.
Why stand on a silent platform?
My recollection of seeing Rage Against The Machine at Reading Festival 2008.
I remember forcing my way to the front of the crowd.
I remember the cold metal of the barrier digging constantly into my chest.
I remember the warm bodies of the people around me.
I remember the exhausted but excited faces of my best friends next to me. I will always remember them.
I remember hearing chanting and singing, laughing and shouting, talking and whispering.
I remember the darkness falling gradually like a giant black sheet, glowing with tiny delicate stars.
I remember my aching feet and cold ears.
The cold. I remember the cold, starting from my feet and creeping its way upwards.
I remember lights; shining, darting, moving, beautiful.
I remember the feeling of belonging, of unity, of power.
Power. Power. Power.
I remember the entire crowd lifting their fists and raising them in the air.
I remember wanting the moment to last a lifetime.
I remember forcing my way to the front of the crowd.
I remember the cold metal of the barrier digging constantly into my chest.
I remember the warm bodies of the people around me.
I remember the exhausted but excited faces of my best friends next to me. I will always remember them.
I remember hearing chanting and singing, laughing and shouting, talking and whispering.
I remember the darkness falling gradually like a giant black sheet, glowing with tiny delicate stars.
I remember my aching feet and cold ears.
The cold. I remember the cold, starting from my feet and creeping its way upwards.
I remember lights; shining, darting, moving, beautiful.
I remember the feeling of belonging, of unity, of power.
Power. Power. Power.
I remember the entire crowd lifting their fists and raising them in the air.
I remember wanting the moment to last a lifetime.
I wasn't born to lose you
I wish my words were more than words.
I wish they were stars, so they would glitter and sparkle and shine, for infinity.
I wish they were your favourite battered vinyl, so you could listen to them over and over again and smile.
I wish they were an endless jar of Marmite, so you could spread them on your breakfast and enjoy them with your morning toast…
Who knows when you will read this.
Maybe in a few hours time.
Maybe in a few days, or weeks, or months.
Or maybe, years and years from now you will come across these words; dusty and faded but not even a fraction less true than when I first scribbled them down.
Maybe you will hold them with your rough, wrinkled hands, and maybe you will read them from behind the delicate glass of your spectacles, and maybe, just maybe, you will understand what I really mean when I say ‘I love you’.
I wish they were stars, so they would glitter and sparkle and shine, for infinity.
I wish they were your favourite battered vinyl, so you could listen to them over and over again and smile.
I wish they were an endless jar of Marmite, so you could spread them on your breakfast and enjoy them with your morning toast…
Who knows when you will read this.
Maybe in a few hours time.
Maybe in a few days, or weeks, or months.
Or maybe, years and years from now you will come across these words; dusty and faded but not even a fraction less true than when I first scribbled them down.
Maybe you will hold them with your rough, wrinkled hands, and maybe you will read them from behind the delicate glass of your spectacles, and maybe, just maybe, you will understand what I really mean when I say ‘I love you’.
I wish that for just one time, you could stand inside my shoes, and just for that one moment, I could be you...
People are fascinating things. The amount of feelings and emotions we give away, purely by our facial expressions and body language, is incredible.
I love that strange feeling you get when you calmly and absentmindedly people watch in public places; half asleep, half awake, half daydreaming, and afterwards you can’t help but feel like you’ve taken a little piece of them home with you.
For that short period of time their worries become your worries, their happiness becomes your happiness, and their life becomes more fascinating, heartbreaking and intriguing than anything else you could ever imagine.
I see an old man pick up a newspaper and notice that the creases in the pages mirror the ones etched on his forehead, and I wonder what could bother a man so old and wise and knowledgeable. He makes me realise that dealing with life and love and loss becomes no easier with age.
I love that strange feeling you get when you calmly and absentmindedly people watch in public places; half asleep, half awake, half daydreaming, and afterwards you can’t help but feel like you’ve taken a little piece of them home with you.
For that short period of time their worries become your worries, their happiness becomes your happiness, and their life becomes more fascinating, heartbreaking and intriguing than anything else you could ever imagine.
I see an old man pick up a newspaper and notice that the creases in the pages mirror the ones etched on his forehead, and I wonder what could bother a man so old and wise and knowledgeable. He makes me realise that dealing with life and love and loss becomes no easier with age.
Tuesday
Monday
My mistakes were made for you
I wrote this in 2007 about a really good friend of mine.
It makes me sad to read it back now, especially as I don't even remember the last time I saw him.
It makes me sad to read it back now, especially as I don't even remember the last time I saw him.
"I realised lately that pretty much everything that I want, I kind of already have. I say that I'd like a 'nice boy with a genuine heart of gold. A boy who will go to shows with me, watch films with me and smile at me for no reason', and I'm an idiot because I already have that. I already have him.
______ is one of the best friends I've ever had, and it still amazes me everyday that we've become so close in just a few months. He's one of the best, most genuine people in the world, and every moment we spend together is such a giggle. I can honestly say that I value our friendship more than almost anything else. This boy makes me so happy, and he's everything that anybody could ever want in a friend. He's nice, genuinely nice. He'll do anything for you if he cares about you. He'll share his things without a second thought, he'll make an effort and he won't moan about it.
I love spending time with him because he's fun, and full of endless energy and excitement. We can spend whole days together and never, ever run out of things to talk about. We watch silly amounts of films and he'll always explain the ending to me, if I don't understand. We listen to music together, and moan about each others taste in bands, and...he smiles at me. For no reason whatsoever.
Basically, he'll really special to me and I love him. I love him in the sense that I'd do anything for him, I love him in the sense that I miss him when he's not there and I always want to talk to him, about nothing in particular. I love him, and I respect him, and value him, and I want him to know that all the lovely things he does for me, don't go unnoticed. Not at all".
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