Hatred is being instilled into my heart. But I won't accept it. I've grown to realise that hate hurts the hater more than the hated.

One day I will soberly rise above the gangsters, the evil, the billionaire, the blood, the lack of intelligence. Over the hill into happiness.

This house is scarred by enemies. It sweats with frustration at the lack of justice & revenge. It weeps with bitterness and sadness.

The only thing that keeps us alive is hope. The most dangerous of beliefs.

I for one can no longer care for a body who has wronged me. Instead I and we must see a life that need not cross that path again.

We do not need to kill to live. We do not need to fight our enemies to win. We do not need to hate in order to show who we love.

One day I will bump into you. When you are old, sick and lonely. I will not have hate in my heart or a tear in my eye.

You can rot knowing that your decisions did not effect me. Then in time, I can rot.... knowing I was good.

#living

I am not going to be as ignorant as you. I don’t look at my life and say the feelings of my soul are the only feelings of any worth. Each of your souls are worthless and they should just be begging on the side of the curb for somebody to love them. ‘Oh please Sir, love me a little will you, hug me and show me that you care’. That’s you begging for love, ushered away by others walking past who are confused about your feelings.

I’m not confused.

You’ll be confused soon though. As I write this in such a way only the smartest of people and those in the know will be able to unravel it. Or I might write it so it confuses you, but then you can gain your own conclusion of what I’m trying to say. Or I’ll just keep on typing, talking shit, until I get bored.

Who knows a person that only cares about themselves? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? To love ones self so deeply that you would do anything to make your life happy. Are these people aware that they only care about themselves? They wake up in the morning, climb out of their bed, look into the mirror and say ‘Today, I am going to do whatever it takes to make myself happy’. Or do they wake up, randomly exist in life, going about their business, realise that they are happy and say ‘I’m happy, I’m going to carry on doing this because I feel good’. Forgetting of course, how they came to be happy, just knowing they like this predicament.

Can you really be happy, knowing your happiness is making someone else sad? If you say ‘I am happy’. Then I tell you ‘your happiness is making someone else sad’. Are you still happy? If you say ‘I’m sad that this person is sad’. Then you are no longer happy. If you say ‘I am still happy’, that means you feel no sadness, for someone who is sad. What kind of human being does that make you? A happy one I guess. So that’s alright. For you.

Ahh that’s all a confusing riddle of feelings that nobody thinks about. Why should we though? If we are happy, then why should we worry if our happiness is upsetting another person. Why can’t they be happy for us? Selfish.

Should I talk about Facebook & Twitter? Vomit up words onto the computer screen that have been making my belly sick. I should, but I won’t. We know Facebook and Twitter is a murderous tool that has unfortunately gained the power to break hearts and kill dreams. I won’t bore you again with my silly words ruining everyone’s fun. But I did post a question up that got a reply in applause for my thought, but no answer.

How do we feel emotional feelings from the inside? What’s the most painful feeling on earth? I hear, that it’s watching the one you love, loving somebody else. Confused, I’ll give you an example off the top of my head. You could be standing at the bar, in say…Watford. You turn around and the girl or guy you like is playing tonsil tennis with another girl or guy. Pause there. That feeling. ‘Your whistling and she’s kissing him’. What is that? What is that ache from within? Why’s it gone and turned up uninvited, crashing the party and ruining your night.

I’m watching you do it. You the reader. Your face has dropped, your heart has sunk into your belly. You down the shot, but it makes you feel sick. Your on the dance floor, but your not moving, and the awkward fake smile is not at all noticeable. I’m here. I’m thinking about your feelings because I didn’t wake up today and decide I was only going to care about myself. I’ve got your back. Don’t worry, I’m not wondering why you feel like this. I just appreciate that you do.

Advice? Start #living. ‘How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes’- William Shakespeare. **tips hat**. I’m good at giving advice. Yet so so so bad at following my own. I always think I can win. I can do it. I can defy the odds and never walk away. ‘Walk Away James’. That’s the advice I give to myself. ‘Not this time, not now, you don’t even want it’. It’s that itch though that makes me always try one more time just in-case. That should pay off one day.

‘I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.’ - Oscar Wilde

I can’t mention, living. Without mentioning dying. Who’s afraid of death?
I’m more fearful of not living, then dying. The act of death doesn’t scare me. It’s the non participation of living that annoys me. I get annoyed that I didn’t live before I was born, so the thought of not living after I die frustrates my soul hugely. The invention of heaven plays with my feelings aswell. Surely only created to make us feel better knowing we may see our loved one’s again when we die. We won’t. Love them now.

Or maybe created to keep the peace on earth. Promise the people an eternal life after death, and some how their want for it, allows all common sense to fly out of the window. Too many religions, too many people thinking they’re 100% right. Living a life full of boundaries that need not be there. Not for me.

Why do people kill themselves? To feel so much hurt and sadness inside, that it wipes out the memory of when your spine tingled with happiness. Does anyone ever get in the bath, and when the heat touches you, you feel some kind of perspective on life? A feeling, that there is time to turn it around and achieve and to be happy. Who’s ever done it, and seen no future?

I’m going. I’m still here though, somewhere, around. You have the chance to tell me how you feel. Don’t leave it on a lie. Don’t leave it on nothing. Leave it with some truth that comes out of your stubborn heart. I am not me, as usual. Imagine, loving somebody. Whatever kind of love that is. But not having the opportunity to tell them, because you were frightened. Or the aching want to do something you’ve always wanted to do, but fear holds you back everytime. Is that really living? I think fear of living has held me back too long. You’ll see me again. Maybe not here. But the real me. Sometime. Make sure you have a camera and a smile. x x x

Gunn's Korner

Welcome to Gunn’s Korner. Here’s the rules. I get twenty minutes to type random sporadic rants. Or just anything that I feel like typing. After twenty minutes I post what I’ve written. It's early, and I'm bored. I’m up and I have a ridiculous dry mouth. I want to go and get a drink, but time waits for no man.

This is going to be kind of hard, I like to sit around all day and wait for each witty line to come to me. But no. Not with Gunn’s Korner. There will be no pausing to think of witty lines. Witty lines written, will have to come off the cuff.

Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty. Witty.

Above you will see an example of Witty… lines.

Times running out, so I would like to let you know that I detest anybody who tries to talk to every single celebrity on Twitter like they know them. Please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. I have seen examples this week, of people I know. Actual real life people I’ve seen with my own eyes, and touched with my own hands… trying to talk to celebrities. By all means mention them. But don’t let me catch you trying to have a conversation with them. Even worse, don’t let me see you try to give them advice about their life. It’s that old problem we have in life where we think we know somebody. Whether it be from what they write on Facebook or Twitter, or from what we read in the papers. Get real. Get a life.

I really wish I called this Gunn’s Korma now.

Because the writings so spicy …..

#winning

Social Net-Hurting

I like Facebook. It’s an audience for me. I wonder if the people realise that there’s an art to those statuses I put out for them to giggle at? Some, of course are thought up on the spot and typed in before I have a chance to think of the consequences. But others, others are dreamt up while I’m in that half asleep half awake consciousness. Typed into my phone so I remember it for the morning while I have one eye closed and the other slightly opened. ‘That’s a funny one, I’ll put that as a status tomorrow’. But why tomorrow? Why not type it into Facebook now on my Blackberry?

I’ve been on my self imposed exile from Facebook for just over a week now. I felt the time had come to give myself a break from having to look at the uninspiring lives of others. Their real actual lives. Their real actual lives that they like to write about so that all their ‘friends’, aka people they just know, or have heard of once can see it.

Surely Facebook is a platform to entertain others with funny stories and inspire each other to live an adventurous life full of love and laughter. It’s not for you to write how bored you are every two seconds. The people don’t want to know about how you’re feeling because your boyfriend dumped you. Nobody cares who you’re with and that you’re in KFC eating some chicken. Think to yourself, before you press Enter. ‘If I saw a status, about someone I know, telling me, that they’re in KFC, with someone else that I don’t know, eating chicken, would I care?’.

There’s a knack to a great Facebook status. It’s like product placement. Getting to your target audience at the right time. I decided to bring my Facebook career to an end with a memory that my real actual friends that I know, could relate to and talk about. It was a present to them, just so they know I haven’t forgotten them.

What they don’t know is, a status like that can’t be just put out at any old time. It has to be considered, and it was. It was a Sunday, a historical poor day to get any interest in Facebook statuses. This particular status was thought up the night before. However, I am not naïve enough to put it out without careful measurement of possible events that could unfold and over shadow my final bow. It’s not instinct though. It’s just I know that this particular Sunday, Arsenal were playing Birmingham in the Carling Cup Final.

A last minute winner for Birmingham sent Facebook mad with statuses upon statuses of heckles for Arsenal fans. As I sat down eagerly in preparation for my final act as a Facebook comedian. Finger hovering over the Enter key waiting for the exact moment to gain maximum exposure. When all the football dust had settled and all the smoke from the fans had cleared, that was my time. 15 ‘likes’ and 26 comments. A new record for a Sunday status. You don’t get better figures than that unless you’re a really fit girl that everyone fancies and you do some boring status about how you’ve just passed your driving test. Yawn.

I could sit here all day and moan about how Facebook hurts people. The easy access into people’s lives aka Facebook Stalking aka Facebook Perving. I know what you’re thinking ‘Don’t be so nosey’. It’s there though isn’t it, in your face. You know bla bla has shagged bla bla before they’ve even finished because somebody else has written about it.

I don’t want Facebook to define me. I can’t say to people, ’look, what you see on there isn’t me, it’s just writing’. I want to say that to them. I want to know, that they realise that I’m just tapping my fingers on to letters and they appear on the screen. It’s not actually a person. Of course there is those people who put every single detail of their real life onto social-networking sites. I sometimes wonder if they actually understand that people can see it. Let’s leave the serious business for behind close doors. Let’s not reveal our hearts to people we barely know. Don’t belittle the death of someone you love, by putting out ‘R.I.P.’ statuses. Things like that are seriously personal. Why would you want to reveal it to all these random people that don’t really care. Facebook is nothing. It’s not a place to mourn. It’s not a sanctuary for sadness and your private counsellor. It’s not a place to cry because a girl doesn’t like you. People have to realise that their actions on Facebook are moulding their personality in the eyes of people who can see. I am not the man I am on Facebook. But it has become too easy just to write anything you want. Unintentionally giving people the idea that they know you.

I probably will return to Facebook. I enjoy annoying people on it too much. I’m sure it won’t be long before I miss watching people have mental breakdowns through statuses and average looking girls making copious amounts of albums, filled with pictures they’ve taken of themselves in the mirror. It says a lot for today’s world though that when I returned from my week longs absence from Twitter, I was flooded with tweets & messages asking me where I had been. ‘Oh maybe, living a life …?’.
Of course I am grateful for them noticing that I had not been giving my usual opinions on every TV show that exists, but it’s still strange, still not real to me. You noticed I was gone, as soon as I return?

These social-networking relationships are not real. Even the one’s who you consider to be your friends, they still don’t have any spine to them. Some of the people I talk to most, I haven’t seen more than ten times in real life. I talk to them everyday, and I consider them my friends, but I haven’t been in their company. I’ve been to see the doctor, more times then I’ve seen them.

It’s strange because talking over a computer seems to have become the norm. Nobody ever goes out anymore to build friendships with new people. It’s always, talk over Facebook, then might see you down the pub when we’re drunk.

I’ve been off Facebook and Twitter for a week! When I get back on it, then people return to normal and start talking to me. Because that’s what our relationship has become. Talking over a computer, and I don’t want any relationships like that. As soon as I forget what your voice sounds like, that’s when you know, we’re not really friends. If I was not at school for a day let alone a week, I would have been flooded with texts and phone calls to see where I was. People wouldn’t of waited for me to come back to school to find out where I’ve been. Yet people wait until I come back onto Facebook or Twitter to see where I’ve been?

I think it’s at school though that the best and strongest relationships are built. We’re talking five days a week for five years you spend time in the company of these people. When I was at school, I had some mates who I saw in class, then we went out on the Saturday and then played football on the Sunday. That’s being in their company everyday for five years. Yet I have people who I care about more than my school mates now and I have seen them less than ten times in my whole life. Why? Because we type words onto Facebook chat? It’s pathetic and it’s nowhere near real. I can walk into any room, and it wouldn’t matter if I hadn’t seen my school friends for a million years they would always talk to me like they always have and it would be like I had never been away. I’ve noticed that they all talk to me completely differently to how any of my other friends do. Like in our heads we’re thinking, I actually know this person. I hardly ever see them now, but you can’t take away the times we had together. You can’t beat the solid foundation that our relationships are built on. You can’t beat getting to know someone, everyday in a close environment.

That’s why you can never out friend your new friends friends. They may not always like them more than you, but they’ll always have time on you. They’ll always be able to reminisce about childhood events. I couldn’t sit down with my school mates and talk about anything to do with the last few years. But we will always have nostalgia. Which cannot be beaten. Just don’t even bother trying to compete with time.

You can spend half your life, nattering with someone on Facebook thinking you know them. Then see one of their statues that everyone ‘likes’, but you can’t because you don’t understand it. You don’t understand it because you’re not actually part of their real life. You’re not there when the things that matter are happening. You may want to be, and that’s nice. But you’re not. Read the wall-to-walls, read the photo comments, try to understand, and join the dots up with your imagination. Do what you want. It’s never going to be real.

P.s. Don’t think I don’t realise that you’re reading this blog, and thinking that you now know who I am. You don’t. I don’t give a shit about anything I've just written. I don't care about Facebook or anything to do with what people write and post on it. Once again this is just me, taping the keys on my laptop. You can’t trust anything can you?

Ever thought the Reebok sign looks like the Facebook sign?

Phantasmagorical: Parte Cinco

Is my Tweet or Facebook status. The reason behind his hiatus? Was it me who made him say ‘laters’ Was it because I made it bait as? …

I can feel the groans within my soul and I know those moans are all my fault. This whore house is my home, and the slut in the bed is me. Those skeletons in the cupboard are there because there’s no space underneath. Don’t like me, because you won’t breath. I will strain every bit of air out of your lungs and every bit of love from your heart. I’ll take it and give you none in return. You see this body? It means I can have anybody. And I do, almost everybody.

I shall not have a second thought that would be a waste of time. I will dive in head first with my eyes wide open. Just like my legs. I am not a fool if that’s what you were hoping?
Ex? Don’t mention that, for it is like witches nails drawing on a chalk board. Maybe we should talk more? Who’s keeping the score?

I know what I’m doing. I’m there in the room, or the club. Or the car. Stitching the scars. Bitching about the mirrors. Afterwards when there’s a repercussion I all of a sudden get concussion. These questions don’t make sense. Your anger directed at me, is confusing. I’ve got splinters from sitting on the fence. There’s nothing here that needs improving.
Agree with me and I will like you. Tell me your opinion and you will feel the wrath of silence. Sitting on the island getting violent. That boy with the guitar plays the blues from his house. He sings about the lies that live in the grooves of my mouth.

Cut me. Fuck me. It’s just a shell. I won’t get into heaven, I’ll probably rot in hell. Not that I really believe it. It’s just a sound that comes from my mouth, or a sight from my fingers taping keys. I enjoy walking past while the boys are clapping me.

Fake is this smile. The grin is a hallucination. Lips are tasting. The boys creation after masturbation. Sick and tired of my procrastination. I am disgusting. I repulse my eyes. Yet my ignorance assures me that I’m doing fine. Who cares about anyone else’s spine but mine. Who say’s I’m lying? I shan’t answer a question that isn’t given direct. Paranoia is a destroyer then like an infection from an insect. I am the worm. The woman. I’ll watch you squirm. Be nice. It’ll get you far, further than you ever thought you could get. [Sket]

What is shame? Maybe my youth makes me immune. I heard it’ll hit me one day soon. The unwritten rule. Outside of school. Ghosts will haunt my dreams. My mind. I suspect I’ll walk down the cracks in the pavement, and see faces I’ve left behind. Been unkind. Even worse because I never meant it. Bliss from a kiss that tastes of wine. Looking at the sky. Sit down with my back to the grass. Wondering how long this one will last. The crowds looking at the clouds. Wow they make such beautiful shapes. Looking at perfection, makes me ponder my mistakes.
Watching from the window. Nose pressed up against the glass. Screams are loud and sad. Like a pain that hurts and aches. Wondering what could have been if hearts were saved from breaks.

I am me. Unfortunately.


[The lights are blinding. I’m smiling. I’m the worst of the worst. I’m tricking him. My mind games are sickening. The knife in my hand is sticking in. Twist it. Blink and you’ve missed it. Looking for a villain, then cast me. I’m here and I’m nasty. When was I last seen? Jealousy you’ve gone green. I laugh at your depressed hurting. I’m getting undressed round the house of *******. My behaviour is working. Slipped, Tripped got laid for certain. The whore I see in the mirror is me. Forget it like it’s a new era and leave. Get close but no nearer and see, that I‘m living to breath better believe the trick up my sleeve and heave when you hear about New Years Eve.]

Part 4: The Death Of Mr Harrow

I’ve walked through this alley a million times. Surrounded by the flats of a real big size. Souls inside with a million sighs. Sleeping next to the ‘help with this murder’ sign. It was Tracey’s kid but it could have been mine.

I don’t believe in races stereotypes, but they hanged him from the laces of his banged up Nikes. Black boys out looking for a fight. When he gave it he paid the ultimate price. He was a good guy, always nice and polite. Stood up for himself and his friends in life.

I’m standing just by the flats where they killed him. It was knocked down soon after replaced with a council building. It used to be a derelict hut that the kids used to go in. Smash up the windows with stones, record noises on their phones and set them as their ring-tones.

As I walk up to near my house, I see a gang of black boys in the distance. Them coming towards me can pause me. My own subconscious can force me to believe that I foresee the beef, foresee these thieves, foresee the reefs by my coffin as my mum weeps. I can face this. Walk away and I’m racist. Step a few more paces, I know what this place is. Know the way out of all the mazes. Haven’t played man-hunt in ages but know where the cage is.

I can feel them breathing on my tongue. It’s not too late I can turn around and run. But I keep on walking, get closer I can hear them talking. Screeching and laughing. Preaching and barking. Tense up, prepared for them starting.

But they walk past me. I don’t look back and I carry on my journey. Get home early.
Thinking about how I judged them too easy. A black gang and alarm bells rang. That’s bang out of order. I’ve got black mates and ought to know better. Check in on my mum in the kitchen someone’s upset her, she’s on the phone bitching. I look at the cinema listings Chips & Dips on a friends date, Orange Wednesday. Forget what people in the ends say. I did the right thing, brought her back in. Had to so I knew what was happening.

I didn’t believe it, hope that you read this. The epiphany was our kiss and your picture. And she needed to be in the game so you could see that I picked ya. Jokingly ripped ya. Wanted you to fall for me but never wanted to trip ya. Never wanted to trick ya

She’s now offering me everything I wanted back then. But life has happened and things change. She was a chapter but I’ve turned the page. No weakness or shame. Hate or blame. In my head only one face one name. Every night. Every day. I can be hurt by the truth but not killed. Only events that are not real kill me. Don’t waste my time and life keep it real really. Not listening to you were mine nearly. Never meant to be clearly.

But Social net-working is hurting. See the girl flirting with *******. Facebook, Twitter I’m certain. Let it go Mr Harrow. Walk away, narrow escape. Have you got what it takes not to get your heart raped? Be a mate. You got bigger things on the horizon. Look her in the eyes and be wise now. The time has come to say your goodbyes now.

[Every time I look into the mirror I think to myself. This is it. This is your face my friend. Don’t pretend to be another guy. Those wrinkles and the twinkles in your eye. How you mingle and are the single most funniest soul on the go. Are they laughing at you? Or with you? If you were gone would they forget soon or miss you? At your funeral hand the girls a tissue. Wish you were dead. Was the last thing we said to him. We’ll always remember him. Did he live? He lived some kind of life alright, but different I guess. Always realised he was just a guest and never owned anything or any person. Did he get everything off his chest knowing there’s no reversing. No time machine for maybes. Take risks. Tick off the boxes on the things to do before you die list. Embarrassed? Don’t go red if you fail. Are you cringing? Start the engine this is finishing.]

[This is the fucking cunt that I’m talking about, out here in the world. Ask some questions give suggestions. This happened because of that. Or can stereotyping save a life? The broken bones are here from when I was young, that blood on the curb is from my knee. I didn’t go to the hospital I just let it bleed, and made sure the girls could see me. Put on a façade so I could look hard but I was in agony. I’ve got the scar here for you to see. The right leg. Ask me. That spray painted goal on the wall is my art, my name scribbled into a love heart. That’s me in your sheets. That is also my face in your photograph, can’t smile nor laugh on cue. I’m laughing here because I was with you. Who?]

This is me in my best coat, it’s well old and you know. The same jeans because I only have one pair. I don’t like jeans. Surprise surprise another crime scene. Get out of the way for the ambulance but it doesn’t beep me. Creepy old man standing on the edge of the street looks right through me at the kid who does a skid on his feet. Check my watch and I’m running late. Police have cornered of the alley great. Try to slip through without making it bait. Sweet as a nut they haven’t clocked. The policeman hasn’t looked. Should make it. Check my watch again but it’s the same time, must be broken I hate it. Here’s my phone take it? What?

I’ve walked through this alley a million times. Surrounded by the flats of a real big size. Souls inside with a million sighs. Police have put up a ‘help with this murder’ sign. I look down at the body and I realise, that I’m looking deep in to my… own eyes.

Valentines Day

The opening line of this piece of writing is going to be ‘My brother is upstairs having sex with his girlfriend’. So if you are of a nervous disposition or reading this while tucking into your Rice Krispies then I apologise now if you choke them up all over your computer screen.

My brother is upstairs having sex with his girlfriend. I’ve just had a vision of myself making a confused face as dust from the ceiling sprinkles on to my head, just before the whole thing comes crashing down on me. Picture it? It’s 2 O’clock in the morning on Valentines Day. I’m sitting here talking to one friend on Facebook, watching the news and cooking sausages. I feel a bit, of what appears to be the ceiling, crumble and softly float and land on my head. I wipe it off. I then put my hand out, and catch some of this floating rubble as it sprinkles down on to my laptop. I make the confused face. I look up. The ceiling caves in and I’m left buried underneath my naked brother and his girlfriend.

This is what I’ve become Ladies and Gentlemen. My younger brother is upstairs having sex, while I’m sitting downstairs holding my sausage watching the news. If my conquests could only see me now. Me, the Alfie of Harrow, sitting down on Valentines Day all alone, not even bothering to try and get some random girl around my house to fornicate with. If the 16 year old me could see the 22 year old me now, he would of definitely beaten me up and put a concoction of toothpaste and beer all over my face while I was out cold. Then topped it off by covering my corpse with Minnie Cheddars and a selection of different flavoured crisps. God I was such a laugh.

It’s either wisdom, or laziness that now prevents me from going out on Valentines Day with anyone but the main person that I want to go out with. Forking out my hard earned money on someone that I’m only being seen in public with because I can’t go out with girl that I want to most. No Thanks. I know what you’re thinking ‘James Gunn can’t get the girl that he wants!!!?’. And you’re right, there must be something wrong… with THEM.

I’m buying into Valentines Day though. It’s a good day. I like dishing out a rose or two every year to put a smile on someone’s face. Nothing wrong with participating in an occasion that’s put aside to celebrate something as nice and beautiful as love. I’m not purchasing into the idea that it’s just a commercial money-maker. Neither am I getting involved in self loathing. ‘Oh I haven’t got a girlfriend, this is the saddest day of the year, someone shoot me in the mouth’. Give me a break.

It’s not ‘I hate my life day’. There’s a scale that goes from Zero to Zero of people who care about your poor me Facebook status. Especially boys, just lay of the gimpy status’s about how Valentines Day is going to be crap. Get off your computer and do something about it. ‘Ohhh Valentines Day is so crap when you’re not in a couple, I’m going to kill myself’. Kill yourself then.

This day doesn’t have to be overlooked just because you’re not going out with someone. It should surely be enjoyed. Get somebody a rose, or a packet of love heart sweets. Give them to anybody you love, a family member or a friend. Let somebody know that you care about them. I’m not going to do that, but it’s an idea for you. I’ve got much better things to do. Like go out clubbing and annoy girls until they have no choice but to get with me. I mean a good annoying though. Not like a rape annoying.

I could babble on about all these cringing people who have a different boyfriend or girlfriend every year and still throw around ‘I Love You’, like it’s a paper aeroplane. Easy to make but when it gets going it comes apart and you start to make a new one. No-one ever rebuilds the one that crashes do they?

We all know those girls who have waited their entire life to have a boyfriend, and as soon as they do they get to work on acting like every other girlfriend that has ever lived. They’ve always wanted the flowers, the attention, to be able to write ’I love you baby’ as their Facebook status. They’ve always wanted to behave like everyone else has done while they have had to stand by and watch. Their time has come to be the girlfriend. So let them.

Or I could annoy myself by talking about all these people in phoney relationships. With boyfriends cheating on girlfriends and girlfriends only going out with boyfriends because they’re lonely and can’t get the person who makes them happiest. Relationships based on sex & not truth and the clichéd couples who do everything that they were once told to do by a book or a couple they once watched live a life. Or the boy that is quite happy to know that his girlfriend doesn’t think he’s the best but he doesn’t care because he’s so in love. Or the girl who feels safe…but never laughs. I won’t talk about them, because they already know who they are.

I’m going to enjoy this day. It’s sunny out. I’m going to buy a rose aswell, like I did in the days when I didn’t take everything so seriously. I might not be brave enough to give it to someone and say ‘here, here’s a rose I bought, but it has more meaning behind it because I like you, and this symbolises my feelings’. But I’ll give it to someone and say ‘here, have this rose, because you’re fit and I want to get with you’. Or ‘here, have this rose, just because, you were around me and I can’t be bothered to hold it anymore, and you look like you would be quite happy walking around with it’. There’s so many reasons in my head right now why I could give someone a rose today, that I’m going to have to go down the road and buy loads of them. Although I have a terrible feeling that I’m going to end up looking like one of those Bulgarian pikeys that bug you outside nightclubs on holiday.

Not The Man I Am

I’m not even going to bother asking if you know about those times when you’re casually browsing Facebook or Twitter and you see something that makes your spine shiver with sadness. The paranoia at someone’s status or a wallpost. Or the worst of the worst, when some you like is tagged in a picture looking far too close to someone else. Or the worst of the worst of the worst, when some you like is tagged in more than one picture looking far too close to someone else. Or the complete heartbreaker. When someone you like is in the background of a picture that they’re not even tagged in, looking far too close to someone else.

I have to laugh at this. I know it happens. I swear I must have been a victim before. I might be a victim of this right now, and it has led me to have to write about it. But victims we all are. Our own inability not to look for sadness makes me laugh. Because don’t get it twisted. When you go browsing, you want to find something that is going to make you sad. You’re not looking for a picture of nothing going on. You’re not looking for a picture where you can’t create some kind of story in your head that is going to make you upset. So you’re actually looking for sadness!

I know you all love when I do ask you if you ‘know about those times’. So here goes.

Who knows about those times, when you’re on Facebook or Twitter & you see a status or a Tweet from the person you like, and you think it’s about you. Or maybe deep down you know it’s not about you, but you want it to be. Why do you want it to be? Because your status’s and tweets are always directed at them? But in your heart, you know that their lovey dovey moany status is about someone else. And that can hurt. Can’t it? You tell me.

Or those times, when you see on Facebook or Twitter that the person you like has actually mentioned the persons name they like in their status or Tweet. And you sit there, looking all glum, and just think ‘THAT IS SO CRINGE’. Then you think to yourself, actually, you do that in your status’s & tweets about them. And it is cringe.

You ones hiding behind a pillow reading this are the people that know what I’m talking about. When you have one stupid off the cuff joke or moment with the person you like. AND BANG. It goes in your status. They probably don’t even think your conversation or moment was that big of a deal. But because it means so much to you, it gets blown out of all proportion and before you know it, you’ve gone and written a bloody status or tweet about it.

I know, it must be hurtful sometimes, to think that you’re on Facebook chat, or texting the person you like, and they’re taking ages to reply. As you sit there, having boring, pointless chats with other people, you really just want the person you like to message you back. Then you realise, to the person you like, you’re just the boring pointless chat that they’re having, and they’re sitting at home waiting for the person they like to reply to them.

It’s a never ending circle of sadness, and craziness. I can see it. And I grin. We all have those people who we know like us. And we keep them around, and we will text them and humour them. While we’re getting the same treatment from the person we like. We act like a prick to the one who loves us and we love the one who acts like a prick to us.

It’s complete and utter madness. But it is life and we wouldn’t have any other way. We would be bored, if there were no emotions. If we were never sad, then how are we going to know when we’re happy? Everyone does the same thing. We all play those games. ‘Lets use the person who likes us to make the person we like jealous’. They’re not going to be jealous. They don’t like you in that way. You’re the one they use, to make the person they like jealous. It’s that never ending circle of sadness and craziness. You’re in it!

You can use Twitter & Facebook as your sanctuary to let your emotions out through status’s and song lyrics that relate to your situation. But Facebook & Twitter are dangerous. They allow you to create a personality for yourself. You can become the person that you’re not. Even this blog, has turned me into not the man I am. People read it and think that this is me. It’s just words written down. It’s not a person. It’s not a soul.

Who knows about those times, when you care about somebody, and you think, as long as you live you could never care about someone as much as you do them. Then one day, it changes. Somebody walks into your life, and does something or says something that makes you happier than you ever were before. Then that’s the time, when you think, I could never ever ever care, about someone more than I do this person. Until you realise that this person doesn’t feel the same about you. What you going to do now? Surely if you couldn’t possibly care about someone more than them, then who ever you meet from now on, will always be second best. But then you remember. You thought that once before didn’t you? You’re always going to be wrong. Until the day when you’re not waiting for a reply on Facebook, or sitting at home holding your phone wondering why there’s no text message. Until the day when you haven’t got time to realise that other people like you, and until the day when you realise you haven’t been browsing Facebook or Twitter because you’ve been far too busy being happy.

Garlic Bread?

Oh, that annoying feeling, where you realise that you’re living your life. The one where you’re sitting down drinking Pepsi from a cup that’s always been in your house, and even though you’ve moved house five different times, this cup has managed to come with you on all those journeys, and you’re drinking from it, then you think to yourself, ‘Oh I’m living my life’. Also when you’re sitting down drinking Pepsi, cooking some garlic bread, watching Sky News on loop at 4.30am and then you think to yourself , ‘Oh I’m living my life’. Or maybe like that time, when you’re sitting down drinking Pepsi, cooking some garlic bread (garrrliiic bread?!), watching Sky News on loop, browsing round the cupboards for more food, looking in the fridge like fifty different times hoping that food will magically appear. Wondering if there’s something nice you could make with Butter, Salad Cream and a mouldy banana. Then you go back into the living room looking all defeated and upset because there’s no bread to make a butter and banana sandwich, with salad cream. Then you sit down on the sofa & just think, ‘Oh I’m living my life’. I hate when that happens. I don’t like bananas anyway do you? I like those sweets though, that are in the shape of a banana, I think they call them .. Bananas.


If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’re either old and thinking about death or where I was a long while back. That comfortable and exciting position where you’re looking forward and making plans. Like when I was pretty sure that I was going to become a footballer and play for England. Then one day, I’m sitting here on this sofa, writing some words down, and I just realise, I’m not a footballer. Life has happened to me. You know when you get that speech from someone, ‘Oh you better have something to fall back on if things don’t work out’ ??
I had that speech once, and I said ‘I don’t need GCSE’s to be a footballer’. Oh and then what happened? Hurt your back did you James? Can’t play football anymore without nearly dying? Yeah that’s me.


It’s always people who have lived life longer, that always turn out to be right. It is frustrating though. Because I really liked those times, where you’re all young and naïve, and think that everything you’ve ever dreamed of, will come true. Like those people who make long, detailed plans of their lives, and tick each event off as it happens. But then what do you do when something happens, that isn’t down on your detailed plan? You can’t tick it off, because you weren’t expecting it. When stuff happens to you, your plan changes doesn’t it?

It is a bit upsetting to think, one day you are all confident and ready to live a life. Then another day you could be walking along still confident and ready to live a life, but then it’s been 10 years since you were first confident and ready to live a life. Then it hits you. That 10 years has been your life.



I feel like this has happened to me. In the sense I keep thinking to myself in my head, about funny times and incidents in my time on earth. Then I go ‘bloody hell that was ten years ago’. Like the other day I was thinking about when I went to Kavos when I was 17, me and three mates walking around like we owned the place. Then I realised I’ve lived nearly six years since that happened. I feel as if I’ve had a quality time don’t get me wrong. I’ve been on some trips. I’ve met a lot of characters. None of it was on my things to do list though. When I left school I wasn’t planning on spending the next six years just going out every night, making millions of friends, being involved in experiences & incidents, not all of them legal. I was/am ambitious. I have written before that I want to live a life different to those around me. I am and never have been a boy, who has ever wanted to live an average life. There is no part of my soul that wants to follow in Daddy’s foot steps, or get a job and work my way to the top. I’ve mentioned before that I pity all my friends that are turning into their dads. I don’t believe for a second that any young boy ever dreamt of being a builder, or a carpenter. Or maybe they have. Actually they probably have. But them be the boys with no imagination.

I’m not living my life to the codes and conducts of people who have gone before me. Just for the simple fact that I have seen how normality brings unhappiness. Some people love the thought of working in some dead end boring job, getting a wife & kids, paying off the mortgage to the shit boring house that they have. Then rotting away not being able to tell one birthday or Christmas from the next because their life has become so repetitive.


I always get mocked for not having a job. I don’t think the mocking is even about not having a job anymore though, it’s more of a lack of understanding of someone else’s life. A confusion because someone is going against everything that normal people do. How many more times do people want to write ‘get a job‘ to me on Facebook. To quote myself:


‘Why? because society has told you, you have to? Because you've been told that's the way you have to live your life? Because one day someone somewhere, a normal man like me or you said that's the way life has to be led? We get one life, you've chosen your path to safety & normality. I've chosen to break away from the conventions of ignorance and live my life the way I've decided to. As long as your happy with your life don't worry about mine. The bus I've got on isn't going your way so I won't hold you up. I wish you all the happiness.’


Ultimately what I’m trying to say is, I do sometimes sit down and think how time goes quickly, and I realise I’ve spent most of my time talking about things that I’m going to do, instead of actually doing them. Therefore living a different life to the one I have imagined for myself. However, I’ll always believe that as long as I don’t get influenced by others and turn into a normal man, I will forever have hope that my life will turn into the creative, adventurous, beautiful story that I have always wanted it to be.

I could give in now. I could get a job, and I could get a girlfriend and a life. It would be easy to do. Anyone can get a job, and anyone can get a girlfriend and be on that road that leads to ‘everybody else’. I would no longer get mocked, or appear strange. I would have respect and people would be happy for me. I’m holding out for better though. I’m holding out for the best. I’m curious to see what’s down that street called ‘don’t go down there avenue’.

That’s the risk you take when you don’t give up on your dreams. You risk failing. It’s a dangerous road to take, because 99.9% of the time you will look a fool. Everyone has a dream, but most people give up on it, and settle for what they have. Simply because they are happy. There’s nothing wrong with that. But there shouldn’t be anything wrong with someone who doesn’t conform to taking the short road to being ‘happy’. I don’t want to be happy anyway. I want to be happiest. And how boring a life it would be if you were going to be truly happy this early in life. What have you got to look forward to eh?


I’m not going to let 2011 be a year where I just go with the flow. I want to create the flow. I want it to be a year I can look back on and say that was a year I created for myself. Whereas other years were not planned, I want this one to have some kind of goal. So I don’t wake up in another 6 years time and think ‘oh I’ve lived a whole six years since I wrote that piece of writing’.

It’s going to be tough though, because I do agree with John Lennon when he said 'Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.'. I feel like that. I feel like I’ve been talking about my plans, but not realising my life is what I’m living now. I also feel to an extent I’ve wasted a lot of time just messing about. But then again, Lennon also said "Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.".