You make patterns in my face, you painted pictures with my tears.

I'm feeling old and I'm feeling bored and I'm feeling tired and I'm not sure if I've lost my fight or my fire or that I've got no place to put my fight or fire anymore. I'm confused and on the edge of my emotions currently, I feel trapped with these feelings that are simply rising up and I've got no where to put them because they're spurned at every advance. And I'm made to feel stupid and alone and no longer part of this little collective we've got, we're not sharing problems anymore there just are problems and then if I'm not causing them I'm not able to make them go away. I feel just like I did when I was a stupid 16 year old kid. I've fooled myself into thinking that I've managed to master myself and know how I feel and how other people feel and I just don't have a clue, the last 11 months therefore have simply been guess work that's managed to pay off.

The sun is setting and I'm really feeling very hot and all my energy is sapped. I've not really slept and maybe I'm just punching at shadows and everything will be fine. I know I haven't changed. Maybe I have and I didn't realise and I'm this monster, but I don't think I deserve to feel this way.



This week I am going to get back to my roots and faff around with Mikey. I miss last summer so much, even though it was the summer where everyone left it felt so full of expectation and excitement for the future, now I think I know about the future and what it's got in store for me and I'm not sure if I'm petrified or exhilarated by the prospect of it all. I think it's mainly fear. I miss Dickie more than anyone who's left this year for uni and not come back, and he's been gone half the time they have, I miss me Mike and Dickie being round his, just laughing around in the sunshine, watching saurt africkans rugby and lying around on the trampaline giving each other static electric shocks and our amazing 2 pub, pub crawl with one pub being visited twice. Last year I looked forward to leeds festival, this year I look forward to it and dread it at the same time. I'm looking forward to it as everyone will be together, and when everyone is togther, we're a good bunch of people, we've always bounced off each other in a really good way, and it'll be nice waking up with these guys and making fires and drinking and making fires and walking in the mud with these people, but I think in the back of my mind I'll be constantly thinking that it's practically the end of the summer and that in a few days I'll be saying goodbye to everyone all over again to move away to university. I wish I'd gone to Stafford now. Because then at least I'd have my mates with me. I think I'm going to be coming home on the train a few times this year if only for a catch up and a sit down on comfy sofas with warm company.

I need a job currently, quite a lot. I don't think I'm finding it very easy to acustom myself to the new limits on my spending and I'm struggling to do the things I want to do. Because it seems that the things I like, lying around on grass and walking around looking at cows aren't interesting to many people, who infact don't enjoy free things, things have to cost money to do, if they don't cost money to do then they're not actually things at all. I'm going to be bankrupt by the end of August.

Partly to get out the house too, I'm going slightly mental. It seems everything was better when I had a job, I had somewhere to go, I had a reason, I had an importance I had a reason to be asked to things, I'm currently some sort of leech in people's eyes and I have no way of changing that viewpoint without getting a job. Tomorrow I'm going to go out and walk in a line and I don't know where the line will take me only that I don't intend to come home till late and that I don't intend to eat.



I think I'm also developing a drink problem. Which I've always wondered about. I've a stupid relationship with drink, it's part of a really bad personality trait. I can't take my time with things I see them and I want the finnished product already, I forget to savour the moment and I just want the end to almost say that I've arrived at that point. So much so that the actual motion itself is lost in the desire by myself to arrive at the end of it all. Much the same with alcohol, I just want to be drunk. I start drinking and I want to be drunk, if I'm not getting drunk I'll either give up and preserve myself in time for the morning or I'll go all out to get out of my head for a while and that's a progressive cycle and an unhealthy one to say the least. It's the way I've always been but it's only now that I'm looking at it like it's a bad thing, and that it's something I can't do anymore. There was a time where I'd drink with my friends in a barn to see our limits, to literally how much we could put inside ourselves before we reached the edge. We'd pass out, and it wasn't untill a few of us including me nearly probably died one night that we stopped. But I still want to go back to absynth. Because even though I have roughtly 3 memories of that night, they're all brilliant ones. Looking up at the skies with Dickie Messer and Mike, Dickie declairing he'd "been all over the world but that's where I wanna be" pointing bleerily to the moon, we all of course greeted this nonsense with choruses of "yeah man, cos that's the thing yeah" at which point I fell off the chair I was on and scraped my arms off the brick wall. Which I didn't discover the extent of till I woke up feeling like I'd been sandpapered. And with a bigger headache that normal, which came from shots at around...late, where I drank, and dropped, and slept, waking only for a moment to see people tickling Dickie. Only in the morning did I realise they were trying to stop him from dyyyying. I loved asynth night. And anyone there who took part loved it too, the feeling of being totally liberated and just out of your body, less so the having to hold onto the ground for fear of falling off the earth.

But yeah, unless it's absynth I'm not really interested anymore I don't think.

Goodnight.

I'm going to go and eat some multi-vitamins and get my self in shape.

Morning Australia.

I say this because solely, for a while and for a bit this will be an exclusive websiteblogmonogger for Dickie, who is currently on holiday gap year type running around with knees bent behavior in Australia. Not to be confused with the Australia that half my family lives in, they live in the boring horrible parts where you live in constant fear of being bitten by spider or mauled in the go toos by a wombat. But from there I'm sure I'll let other people see, so I'll write a normal blog entry...so it's not just like an open letter to Dickielar.

Ok that was my sister's wedding, I can take credit for technically pressing the clicker on that one, but it was Nathalie that saw the fact that if you zoomed and cropped you could see my Grandmother suspended in a bubble with my nephew, or her great grandson. Which are kind of funkaaaay, and a rather good spot by the Nathalie.

My grandmother is a bit of a strange one, I know nothing about her, nor do I my grandfather, they both up and left my mum when she was a baby and went their separate ways they obviously decided to go as far apart as possible, but they were obviously thinking the same thing as ma ended up in Australia and pa ended up in New Zeeland, apparently pa is still going and is called Trevor Getliff, and that's about as much as I know about that one side of my family. He looked quite nice in the pictures.

I've only actually met one grand parent, tis the thing with having older parents I suppose and she was lovely and probably the reason why I have slightly ginger flecks to my beard. That ginger gene is a strong one. Though I've heard its reccesive, does that mean all the gingers will die out? I hope not, they're the spice of life hair wise.

Moving swiftly on –

Go to Paris for the Eiffel Tower, stay for the Duck outside la louvre.

Paris is really really really wet around April, take that information with you, also take a lot of cocktail sausages and egg mayonnaise sandwiches, as they'll serve you well. As, contrary to popular belief Paris is a French speaking city with French types, who don't know what Cornflakes are, nor cold milk. HEATHENS! Hah, I jest, they have some lovely buildings and stuff.

Tomorrow I'm off to go and get my knee scanned and they'll be telling me how badly shaped it is, I'm not really looking forward to, if you're new to me and my knee, around 4 years ago I slipped on a sports hall surface which had just been buffed so it'd look good in the end of years photos, but was essentially an ice rink. I ruined tendons and dislodged my Patella, which is the knee cap to those who haven't had 4 years of knee science lessons. And that basically floats around having the time of it’s life exploring the parts of my knee it really shouldn't be going to, and I'm hopefully going to have an operation to put it’s libertine days and pin it down to where it should be. That's a figure of speech, as far as I know, no pins involved.

So here's for being able to walk about again like a normal human being.

I'm getting tired.

N'night.

Aren’t this a sparkly looking thing?