I'm not very good at love.
I've always thought I was, but all the evidence points otherwise. I'd like to believe that I'm the Henry DeTamble, the steady reassuring force that gives someone the will and confidence to enjoy life, and who receives the same in kind, while in reality, I am Charlie Brown, holding on to the crayon left behind by the Little Red-Haired Girl, watching a world of possibilities rise and fall in front of him.
I'd love for that to be the limit of my skills, but you can also add "Standing idly by while people leave" to my CV.
The other day, I was in a shop while Al Green's "Love Is A Beautiful Thing" played over the PA, and caught myself thinking, for the first time ever, "No it isn't, it's utter crap!" - the expectation of those who are not yet loved, the crippling panic, the loneliness it causes in its absence. Thanks, but you can keep it, reverend.
There is nothing like the emotional surge when you meet someone you like, who stands out from everyone else in the room. Every time you're in the same room as them, there's an electricity, an elevation in the senses, and you'd do anything to put a smile on that person's face and make them happy.
When that expectation nosedives into a bout of unrequited love, however, it knocks you sick. There is, equally, nothing quite like that feeling either. The aching sadness of one more special person in the world who doesn't like you 'like that' is a lead weight, no matter how philosophical you try to be, no matter how much you proclaim (as true as it genuinely is) that you're glad to know that person.
And so you plod on, waiting for that exchanged moment of eye contact that could conduct lightning, hoping for a moment that sets the process off all over again, trying to be nonchalant (and occasionally failing).
I don't know what I want out of life, I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve being a father, I'm also pretty sure it does involve music, but I'm heartsick now. I've had enough. My heart's had enough. I'd be happy to keep going as I am and not have a care in the world, but that old loneliness stabs at my core whenever I have an unguarded moment (which occurs quite a lot, what with my head being in the clouds and such), and it can't be fought at every turn. I just have to walk on and swallow down this empty ache every five steps.
Mourning the past, enjoying the present, worrying about the future. Why change old habits?
Tuesday 3 December 2013
Monday 2 December 2013
Yes, December...
So, it would seem December has arrived. Jolly good.
I am not, as I may have documented once or twice (I've written about so much nonsense since I started this thing that I forget what topics I've covered and what I haven't), a fan of the wintery months. As soon as the night sets in before you clock off from work & the leaves start dropping, the rest of the world can bugger off while I huddle in my living room and eat biscuits. Them's the rules. Since the band's gotten together, I have been a mite more productive, but the rule stays more or less the same.
This weekend, I saw December in with some friends, which was a jolly way to do it, it must be said. We went to the ATP music festival, held at Pontins in Camber Sands. Matt (from my band) and our friends Sam, John and Rose (along with many other folk along the way) have been going to the bi-annual festivals for years, and have a wealth of previous experience to look back on and compare notes, whereas I've been to this one and the one before it, back in May.
I am really into the idea of a music festival being held somewhere entirely indoors. I am not one of life's "outdoorsy" people, so to jump into a big building with stages upstairs & downstairs is precisely how I'd like to do it. Prior to last year, ATP had been held at Butlins in Minehead, which I am told was a far more preferable experience, with four stages and electricity you didn't have to pay for. Yes, as we struggled into our chalets following a four-and-a-half hour drive, we were greeted with a distinct chill and complete darkness, which then resulted in Sam (from Matt's band, Dead Radio Society) popping over to the shop to buy credit for the meter. (I imagine this goes down really well with people coming to have actual week-long holidays there - three days-worth robbed £15 off us).
This weekend's music was, by comparison, a far cry from the sheer variety of bands on offer in May. Last time I attended, I was treated to CSS, TV On The Radio, Doseone, De La Soul, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Tinariwen, Lone Cub & Wolf and Antibalas, plus much more besides! Hip-hop, rock, rap, electronica, there was plenty on offer. This time, I'm sad to say, was somewhat more one-note. If I was going to shorten the pickings to one term, I would say "microphone-lite".
I really enjoyed Civil Civic, Braids (they had a vocalist & lyrics!), The Magic Band and Mogwai - who ended the whole weekend, and had everything else not been so heavily instrumental, I might have stayed for more of their set. As it was, they didn't stand out as much as they might have done, because so much of what was on offer was electronica and non-vocal music.
Now, I am back at home, my suitcase is awaiting a firm unpacking, and I have eaten a dinner. The joy of time away with friends vanishes almost as suddenly as it arrives, and the mundane appears from behind a curtain, reminding you that it's almost the end of the year, and that all the stuff you want to get done won't happen, because who's going to have time in the run-up to the Festives? How those people get through December with an "I LOVE CHRISTMAS, ME" grin perma-taped to their faces is a mystery I will never solve. You can keep the long nights, the stress of finding "The Perfect Present", the late nights trying to do all the things you usually do on top of the extra stuff. You can keep the hand-freezing temperatures, the uncertain safety of the pavements, the biting winds.
JUST GIVE ME DAYLIGHT UNTIL 9PM AND I'LL BE FINE. MOSTLY.
Hmm. Yes, well I could rabbit on a bit more about the joys of living alone & feeling a bit lost and frustrated while the world turns inexorably on, but I don't think that will make for an interesting read. It does mean there are things to cogitate on for the next time I sit down and slap my keyboard like an excitable word-monkey.
In the meantime, have a lovely week, take care of yourselves, and let's all get through winter together, eh? We can do it.
Speak soon,
Love,
John xx
PS: The fans amongst you will have noticed that the title of this blog entry looks awfully like a song by Nerina Pallot. That's because it is one. Here's a rather lovely performance of it, which was recorded by my friend Jenny:
I am not, as I may have documented once or twice (I've written about so much nonsense since I started this thing that I forget what topics I've covered and what I haven't), a fan of the wintery months. As soon as the night sets in before you clock off from work & the leaves start dropping, the rest of the world can bugger off while I huddle in my living room and eat biscuits. Them's the rules. Since the band's gotten together, I have been a mite more productive, but the rule stays more or less the same.
This weekend, I saw December in with some friends, which was a jolly way to do it, it must be said. We went to the ATP music festival, held at Pontins in Camber Sands. Matt (from my band) and our friends Sam, John and Rose (along with many other folk along the way) have been going to the bi-annual festivals for years, and have a wealth of previous experience to look back on and compare notes, whereas I've been to this one and the one before it, back in May.
I am really into the idea of a music festival being held somewhere entirely indoors. I am not one of life's "outdoorsy" people, so to jump into a big building with stages upstairs & downstairs is precisely how I'd like to do it. Prior to last year, ATP had been held at Butlins in Minehead, which I am told was a far more preferable experience, with four stages and electricity you didn't have to pay for. Yes, as we struggled into our chalets following a four-and-a-half hour drive, we were greeted with a distinct chill and complete darkness, which then resulted in Sam (from Matt's band, Dead Radio Society) popping over to the shop to buy credit for the meter. (I imagine this goes down really well with people coming to have actual week-long holidays there - three days-worth robbed £15 off us).
This weekend's music was, by comparison, a far cry from the sheer variety of bands on offer in May. Last time I attended, I was treated to CSS, TV On The Radio, Doseone, De La Soul, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Tinariwen, Lone Cub & Wolf and Antibalas, plus much more besides! Hip-hop, rock, rap, electronica, there was plenty on offer. This time, I'm sad to say, was somewhat more one-note. If I was going to shorten the pickings to one term, I would say "microphone-lite".
I really enjoyed Civil Civic, Braids (they had a vocalist & lyrics!), The Magic Band and Mogwai - who ended the whole weekend, and had everything else not been so heavily instrumental, I might have stayed for more of their set. As it was, they didn't stand out as much as they might have done, because so much of what was on offer was electronica and non-vocal music.
Now, I am back at home, my suitcase is awaiting a firm unpacking, and I have eaten a dinner. The joy of time away with friends vanishes almost as suddenly as it arrives, and the mundane appears from behind a curtain, reminding you that it's almost the end of the year, and that all the stuff you want to get done won't happen, because who's going to have time in the run-up to the Festives? How those people get through December with an "I LOVE CHRISTMAS, ME" grin perma-taped to their faces is a mystery I will never solve. You can keep the long nights, the stress of finding "The Perfect Present", the late nights trying to do all the things you usually do on top of the extra stuff. You can keep the hand-freezing temperatures, the uncertain safety of the pavements, the biting winds.
JUST GIVE ME DAYLIGHT UNTIL 9PM AND I'LL BE FINE. MOSTLY.
Hmm. Yes, well I could rabbit on a bit more about the joys of living alone & feeling a bit lost and frustrated while the world turns inexorably on, but I don't think that will make for an interesting read. It does mean there are things to cogitate on for the next time I sit down and slap my keyboard like an excitable word-monkey.
In the meantime, have a lovely week, take care of yourselves, and let's all get through winter together, eh? We can do it.
Speak soon,
Love,
John xx
PS: The fans amongst you will have noticed that the title of this blog entry looks awfully like a song by Nerina Pallot. That's because it is one. Here's a rather lovely performance of it, which was recorded by my friend Jenny:
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