‘Die Young and Save Yourself’ or How I Grew Old and Still Listened to Emo Music
The Smiths are my favourite band. Perhaps some but consider them a guilty pleasure but I don’t. I think they are unrivalled and possibly the greatest band that there ever was (excluding the Beatles). But don’t worry I’m not here to wax lyrical about my undying love for Morrissey or indeed the whole of the ’80s. It’s funny that some would consider the ‘80s as a bit of a write off period musically or consider bands like Soft Cell as definitely falling under the header of ‘Wedding Disco’ or ‘Guilty Pleasure.’
For me, my guilty pleasure is a modern band. A modern American band. I used to be a really big emo. Admitting this is causing me quite high levels of discomfort. I like Arcade Fire and my favourite colour is pink. I’ve renounced all but one of my emo indulgences. That indulgence is Brand New.
I liked a plethora of emo bands: Jimmy Eat World, Taking Back Sunday, My Chemical Romance, The Used, but most notably Brand New. Brand New were my number one favourite. I hear their most recent albums have been very good but the only ones I ever listen to are their 2001 release ‘Your Favourite Weapon’ and 2003’s ‘Deja Entendu’. When I listen to these two albums I feel angry and confused (just as I did when I was 13-16) but most of all I feel young. Brand New meant something to me, pathetic though that might sound. They meant I didn’t have to be the person my parents or teachers wanted me to be. They meant I was part of something that older generations could never understand. Emo was a youth movement and Brand New embodied the movement for me. The anger in sons like ‘Seventy Times Seven’ (‘Don’t apologize! I hope you choke you die!’) helped me get through those angsty, spot-ridden teenage years.
I went to see Brand New when I was about 14. It is one of my very best memories. I squeezed myself into Topshop’s skinniest drainpipes, wore two studded belts (to show I was hardcore) and cut my fringe even further into my eyes to mark the occasion. Embarrassingly, I actually cried during the set (during ‘The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot’) I found it that moving. I went with my best friends and we used about 4 eyeliner pencils between the 8 of us. We screamed, shouted, danced, ‘moshed’ and yes, cried together. Hey, as lyrics go, these ones are pretty emotional: ‘You are the smell before rain/You are the blood in my veins.’ (I am glad, however, that I decided against getting this tattooed around my wrist, as was my original plan.)
Brand New remind me of being a teenager and will always have a place in my heart and on my spotify. Even if the Smiths did steal their position as ‘best band ever’. But perhaps Brand New knew that would happen anyway, as they said in ‘Mix Tape’, ‘you always criticise The Smiths and Morrissey/ [But] I know you’re a sucker for anything acoustic.’
Monday, 21 March 2011
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
THE F WORD: My Name is Alexandra Wilks and I am a Feminist
Feminists are few and far between. It has become almost a taboo to admit that you are a feminist. Feminism is the butt of many chauvinist jokes and something which many people claim that they ‘don’t think about too much.’
Yet men still earn more than women; in 2010 full time male workers earned just over 10 per cent more than their female counterparts. Men are still more successful than women; four out of the twenty nine cabinet ministers are women. Even women who do battle through the glass ceiling have to make choices between their career and having a family. Women are forced to reject their femininity and assume more 'masculine' qualities in order to succeed in a male dominated society. Girls outperform boys at GCSE by 72.4% A*-C grades compared to 65.4% for boys (2010 Guardian Study of GCSE results) and then again at A-level. So why are women less successful in the work place and why do their feminine traits hinder rather than help their progress?
It wouldn’t surprise me if you told me you’d heard this barrage of information before. Anyone who studied Sociology A-level will no doubt be tired of hearing about the ‘gender gap.’ Yet, despite the fact that nationally we are aware that women are earning less, we still argue that feminism is no longer needed in today’s society. Despite all the evidence of a patriarchal society Feminism is still a dirty word. Why?The stereotype of a feminist is the Radical Feminists of the 1970's. These women publicly burnt their bras and hated men. Statements such as, 'All men are potential rapists' and 'a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle' made this approach to women's rights unpopular. After asking several of my male and female friends what they most associate with Feminists the most popular choices were, 'bra burning', 'lesbian' and 'man haters'.
So I looked up Feminism in a dictionary. The dictionary definition of Feminism is 'the advocacy of women's rights on the ground of the equality of the sexes.' Nothing about burning your bra, hating men or being a lesbian then. In fact, surely every well informed person would believe men and women are equal and should be treated as such.
Emily Davison of the suffragette movement died under the king's horse in 1913 for women’s right to vote. A century later and women are rejecting the idea of Feminism all together. The word 'Feminist' has been misconstrued. To be a feminist you do not have to wear trousers or dump your boyfriend. And for men, being a feminist doesn't make you a 'poof'. Every person I know believes in equal rights for men and women. Therefore every person I know is, by definition, a feminist.
Our generation has seen the world change in countless ways (with the birth of the internet, the invention of the mobile phone etc.) yet we still live in a society in which women are treated differently to men. We jumped at the chance to march against the increase in Student Fees, but a ‘Rights for Women’ march would probably have been less popular. The word ‘Feminist’ needs rebranding. It has been claimed by patriarchal society and filled with negative connotations. Surely in 2011 men and woman can stand up for equal rights. Surely, the word feminist need no longer be a taboo.
My name is Alexandra Wilks and I always wear a skirt, love wearing red lipstick and enjoy receiving flowers. My name is Alexandra Wilks and I am a Feminist.
Yet men still earn more than women; in 2010 full time male workers earned just over 10 per cent more than their female counterparts. Men are still more successful than women; four out of the twenty nine cabinet ministers are women. Even women who do battle through the glass ceiling have to make choices between their career and having a family. Women are forced to reject their femininity and assume more 'masculine' qualities in order to succeed in a male dominated society. Girls outperform boys at GCSE by 72.4% A*-C grades compared to 65.4% for boys (2010 Guardian Study of GCSE results) and then again at A-level. So why are women less successful in the work place and why do their feminine traits hinder rather than help their progress?
It wouldn’t surprise me if you told me you’d heard this barrage of information before. Anyone who studied Sociology A-level will no doubt be tired of hearing about the ‘gender gap.’ Yet, despite the fact that nationally we are aware that women are earning less, we still argue that feminism is no longer needed in today’s society. Despite all the evidence of a patriarchal society Feminism is still a dirty word. Why?The stereotype of a feminist is the Radical Feminists of the 1970's. These women publicly burnt their bras and hated men. Statements such as, 'All men are potential rapists' and 'a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle' made this approach to women's rights unpopular. After asking several of my male and female friends what they most associate with Feminists the most popular choices were, 'bra burning', 'lesbian' and 'man haters'.
So I looked up Feminism in a dictionary. The dictionary definition of Feminism is 'the advocacy of women's rights on the ground of the equality of the sexes.' Nothing about burning your bra, hating men or being a lesbian then. In fact, surely every well informed person would believe men and women are equal and should be treated as such.
Emily Davison of the suffragette movement died under the king's horse in 1913 for women’s right to vote. A century later and women are rejecting the idea of Feminism all together. The word 'Feminist' has been misconstrued. To be a feminist you do not have to wear trousers or dump your boyfriend. And for men, being a feminist doesn't make you a 'poof'. Every person I know believes in equal rights for men and women. Therefore every person I know is, by definition, a feminist.
Our generation has seen the world change in countless ways (with the birth of the internet, the invention of the mobile phone etc.) yet we still live in a society in which women are treated differently to men. We jumped at the chance to march against the increase in Student Fees, but a ‘Rights for Women’ march would probably have been less popular. The word ‘Feminist’ needs rebranding. It has been claimed by patriarchal society and filled with negative connotations. Surely in 2011 men and woman can stand up for equal rights. Surely, the word feminist need no longer be a taboo.
My name is Alexandra Wilks and I always wear a skirt, love wearing red lipstick and enjoy receiving flowers. My name is Alexandra Wilks and I am a Feminist.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Girl, You're a Tragedy.
It is 12.29 pm. I am sitting in my room which is in on its usual destructive path to mess. I am wearing my boyfriend's extra large nike hoodie, no bra, and my navy blue tracksuit bottoms. Oh and a ripped t-shirt which I slept in. My hair is unbrushed. A mug of tea and a biscuit is all I have eaten all day. Needless to say I have not showered. It is a Monday and most people have been at work for been at work for 3 plus hours. I battled my way through my required reading til the early hours of today, only to find out my lecture was on a film by Jean Luc Godard (which of course I have not watched). Oh, the irony.
When I naively imagined students at university (we're talking from the ages of say 15 to 17) I imagined arty, intense, bright young men and women with earnest eyes and thick rimmed black glasses. Girls who wear polo necks and don't shave their legs. Boys who drink port and roll filterless cigarettes, their hands shaking from too much coffee. I imagine them staying up til the early hours in libraries with decaying books and soft lamp light and only a black sugarless coffee to keep them company. I can hear their excited cries as they debate (note: not argue) about politics sitting in tight circles with a Communist poster on the wall. They are fiercely left wing, dangerously clever and the epitome of cool.
On my gap yah, I worked on average 60 hours a week. I got up at 5.45 every day and I was pretty much happy about it. I liked my job and I certainly liked the money. Now I complain when I have to get up for a 9 o clock lecture. This semester I have EVERY Thursday and Friday off, and Wednesday off every other week. Being a student has not made me go to the theatre, become radically political (or even know very much about politics), use the library (although I should seeing as I study Literature), boycott Nike or Nestle or whatever company beginning with N is being boycotted these days.
Sadly, the girls and boys of my imagination are probably few and far between and the face of Student Britain probably looks a lot more like me. Usually drunk, wearing ridiculous outfits, eating pasta and spending almost every day in their pajamas and not knowing exactly how to access the library.
When I naively imagined students at university (we're talking from the ages of say 15 to 17) I imagined arty, intense, bright young men and women with earnest eyes and thick rimmed black glasses. Girls who wear polo necks and don't shave their legs. Boys who drink port and roll filterless cigarettes, their hands shaking from too much coffee. I imagine them staying up til the early hours in libraries with decaying books and soft lamp light and only a black sugarless coffee to keep them company. I can hear their excited cries as they debate (note: not argue) about politics sitting in tight circles with a Communist poster on the wall. They are fiercely left wing, dangerously clever and the epitome of cool.
On my gap yah, I worked on average 60 hours a week. I got up at 5.45 every day and I was pretty much happy about it. I liked my job and I certainly liked the money. Now I complain when I have to get up for a 9 o clock lecture. This semester I have EVERY Thursday and Friday off, and Wednesday off every other week. Being a student has not made me go to the theatre, become radically political (or even know very much about politics), use the library (although I should seeing as I study Literature), boycott Nike or Nestle or whatever company beginning with N is being boycotted these days.
Sadly, the girls and boys of my imagination are probably few and far between and the face of Student Britain probably looks a lot more like me. Usually drunk, wearing ridiculous outfits, eating pasta and spending almost every day in their pajamas and not knowing exactly how to access the library.
THE BRIGHT YOUNG MINDS OF BRITAIN TODAY
Monday, 17 January 2011
You're Not 19 Forever...
Hello most cherished readers.
Today is supposedly according to research (??) the most depressing day of the year. Deep. I can see why- it's actually raining or was earlier. I am not depressed especially. I am back in GU2 and enjoying not doing very much revision at all....
Anyway, on the most depressing day of the year I am brought to face a rather scary reality that I won't be young forever. In fact I am already descending into adulthood.
I no longer partake in the usage of recreational drugs (almost certainly a good thing.)
I now suffer from chronic, head crushingly awful hangovers, whereas when I was 17, 18 I could go out 3 or 4 nights on the trot quite happily.
I've had a full time job and paid income tax (on my 'gap yah').
I am in my first, proper grown up long term relationship with an older man (not obsecenely older but 3 and a half years.)
I am (as of Saturday) going to start renting my first house next year. It's amazing! I'm living with Jade, Dave and Alex in a lovely 4 bed.
I've nearly been alive for 2 whole decades.
I am legally (and have been for over a year) an adult.
I am at university: I cook my own meals, I pay my own rent (with a little help from a thing called a loan).
I can nearly drive a car.
I am no longer in compulsory education.
I do my own laundry and regularly at that.
I'm actually getting better at not blowing all my cash in Topshop.
Thing is, sure, I won't 19 forever. But I hope I'm making the most of it.
I've always wanted to be older than I am. Own a house, get married, get two dogs (called Baby and Marbella- don't ask), have a job, cook dinner... you know that sort of thing.
So I have decided in deference (perhaps) or definance to my impending adulthood I am going to do something truly WILD before my 20th Birthday.
Tattoos are out of the question as are piercings (pain is an issue). So it's got to be one last hurrah with the hair. It's been shaved (one side, looked quite good), bright red, very long, black, a gingery colour, purple, very short, shaved up the back (unintentionally, mis communication at the hairdressers...disastrous), excessively straight, sprayed every colour under the sun, beyond greasy (when travelling), curly, put into a beehive, cut by me, cut by my friends, cut by my mother (I looked like a very poor man's Cleopatra) and is now currently a respectable light brown colour...
Although, that is all going to change...
WATCH THIS SPACE.
P.S I should be revising but I love you all so very much I decided to update the blog instead. Aww.
Today is supposedly according to research (??) the most depressing day of the year. Deep. I can see why- it's actually raining or was earlier. I am not depressed especially. I am back in GU2 and enjoying not doing very much revision at all....
Anyway, on the most depressing day of the year I am brought to face a rather scary reality that I won't be young forever. In fact I am already descending into adulthood.
I no longer partake in the usage of recreational drugs (almost certainly a good thing.)
I now suffer from chronic, head crushingly awful hangovers, whereas when I was 17, 18 I could go out 3 or 4 nights on the trot quite happily.
I've had a full time job and paid income tax (on my 'gap yah').
I am in my first, proper grown up long term relationship with an older man (not obsecenely older but 3 and a half years.)
I am (as of Saturday) going to start renting my first house next year. It's amazing! I'm living with Jade, Dave and Alex in a lovely 4 bed.
I've nearly been alive for 2 whole decades.
I am legally (and have been for over a year) an adult.
I am at university: I cook my own meals, I pay my own rent (with a little help from a thing called a loan).
I can nearly drive a car.
I am no longer in compulsory education.
I do my own laundry and regularly at that.
I'm actually getting better at not blowing all my cash in Topshop.
Thing is, sure, I won't 19 forever. But I hope I'm making the most of it.
I've always wanted to be older than I am. Own a house, get married, get two dogs (called Baby and Marbella- don't ask), have a job, cook dinner... you know that sort of thing.
So I have decided in deference (perhaps) or definance to my impending adulthood I am going to do something truly WILD before my 20th Birthday.
Tattoos are out of the question as are piercings (pain is an issue). So it's got to be one last hurrah with the hair. It's been shaved (one side, looked quite good), bright red, very long, black, a gingery colour, purple, very short, shaved up the back (unintentionally, mis communication at the hairdressers...disastrous), excessively straight, sprayed every colour under the sun, beyond greasy (when travelling), curly, put into a beehive, cut by me, cut by my friends, cut by my mother (I looked like a very poor man's Cleopatra) and is now currently a respectable light brown colour...
Although, that is all going to change...
WATCH THIS SPACE.
P.S I should be revising but I love you all so very much I decided to update the blog instead. Aww.
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
BOOK VERSUS FILM: Heated Debate.
I haven't really watched many films. This is a revelation that came to me today. I might be one of the only people in the country whose read 'The Princess Bride' but not seen the film. I don't mean this is in a 'superior-tv-rots-your-brain' sort of way, but in a genuine kind of 'what-do-i-do-with-my-time?' way. I watched The Beach today (Leonardo Di Capro looks phenomenal, very young) but I didn't really like it. Compared to the book, it wasn't much. The book was one of my obsessions. I didn't dislike the film I just didn't think it was as good as it could have been. I'm not saying I could have done a better job, I just thought it could have been even better given the material they were working from (the book).
So leads me on to a book versus film debate.
So here goes (if you disagree with me, feel free to tell me, but I'll just shout you down)
AMERICAN PYSCHO: Christian Bale is outrageously good in the film, but overall Bret Easton Ellis is the master. Book.
FIGHT CLUB: Book's not bad. But, overall, Brad Pitt in the '90s? Film.
THE BEACH: Both brilliant. But book.
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD: Gregory Peck is wonderful, but Harper Lee is such an excellent writer. Book.
REBECCA: My boyfriend thinks the Hitchcock film is genius but I would go for book everytime because of 'Last night I dreamt of Manderley' if nothing else. Book.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS: Brilliant story but I really don't like Dickens. Sorry. Film.
HARRY POTTER: Now, this is a controversial one. I love Harry Potter books and films. But overall, it's got to be Films for me. Sorry.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD: Richard Yates- loved the book. Saw the film- most boring pile of wank. Book.
THE READER: Both excellent and I do really enjoy Kate Winslet. Overall, book though.
THE LORD OF THE RINGS: Reading the book was like wrestling with someone I couldn't see. Difficult. Watching the film was brilliant escapism. Film.
MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA: One of my favourite books as a teenager. Absolute monstrosity of a film. Book.
MATILDA: Not even going to have a debate here. Roald Dahl everytime. Book.
ATONEMENT: I do like the film, Keira Knightley is less annoying than usual and I like how the film is shot. (Not that I know anything about it). But, the subtle nuances (sorry I am an English undergraduate) of the book are what makes it brilliant and ultimately they're lost in the film. Book.
TRAINSPOTTING: I found the Irvine Welsh book difficult and irritating. The film is brilliant. Film.
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S: I like Truman Capote. I really do. But, I love Audrey Hepburn. Film.
I CAPTURE THE CASTLE: This is probably my favourite book of all time. I was quite worried about the film, would I hate it? Would it ruin the book? I love the film, I think it's brilliant and faithful to the book and the characterisation is beautiful. But, overall, book.
I know a little about books and even less about film but I think it's always go to express your under informed opinions. In fact, if I didn't, you probably wouldn't be reading this because the blog probably wouldn't exist.
So leads me on to a book versus film debate.
So here goes (if you disagree with me, feel free to tell me, but I'll just shout you down)
AMERICAN PYSCHO: Christian Bale is outrageously good in the film, but overall Bret Easton Ellis is the master. Book.
FIGHT CLUB: Book's not bad. But, overall, Brad Pitt in the '90s? Film.
THE BEACH: Both brilliant. But book.
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD: Gregory Peck is wonderful, but Harper Lee is such an excellent writer. Book.
REBECCA: My boyfriend thinks the Hitchcock film is genius but I would go for book everytime because of 'Last night I dreamt of Manderley' if nothing else. Book.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS: Brilliant story but I really don't like Dickens. Sorry. Film.
HARRY POTTER: Now, this is a controversial one. I love Harry Potter books and films. But overall, it's got to be Films for me. Sorry.
REVOLUTIONARY ROAD: Richard Yates- loved the book. Saw the film- most boring pile of wank. Book.
THE READER: Both excellent and I do really enjoy Kate Winslet. Overall, book though.
THE LORD OF THE RINGS: Reading the book was like wrestling with someone I couldn't see. Difficult. Watching the film was brilliant escapism. Film.
MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA: One of my favourite books as a teenager. Absolute monstrosity of a film. Book.
MATILDA: Not even going to have a debate here. Roald Dahl everytime. Book.
ATONEMENT: I do like the film, Keira Knightley is less annoying than usual and I like how the film is shot. (Not that I know anything about it). But, the subtle nuances (sorry I am an English undergraduate) of the book are what makes it brilliant and ultimately they're lost in the film. Book.
TRAINSPOTTING: I found the Irvine Welsh book difficult and irritating. The film is brilliant. Film.
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S: I like Truman Capote. I really do. But, I love Audrey Hepburn. Film.
I CAPTURE THE CASTLE: This is probably my favourite book of all time. I was quite worried about the film, would I hate it? Would it ruin the book? I love the film, I think it's brilliant and faithful to the book and the characterisation is beautiful. But, overall, book.
I know a little about books and even less about film but I think it's always go to express your under informed opinions. In fact, if I didn't, you probably wouldn't be reading this because the blog probably wouldn't exist.
Friday, 31 December 2010
An Ode to the Joy (and pain) of Twickenham and a healthy dose of anger about 'NYE'
Well hello there dear readers (all 4 of you). I am sorry for the delay in posting. The end of term crept up upon me as it is wont to do and deadlines, alcohol and the horrendous C word (Christmas) prevented me from posting mindless anger on the internet. Perhaps that is a good thing? I am still, by the by, unsure about this whole blog expedition. I feel it is rather like smoking: I am unsure about the benefits of smoking (if there are any) but it has become a rather bad habit and being the lazy and unmotivated git I am I don't hate it enough to quit it. Much like the blog. I am unsure where it is going (at least it is unlikely to kill me, unlike cigarettes) or indeed what good (if any) it is bringing to the world but I am reluctant to quit it. Which is obviously super wonderful to all you beautiful (and odd) people reading it!
Anyway, Christmas happened, turkey, presents, cracker yada yada yada. It was, on the whole, uneventful. I worked Christmas Eve so I didn't even go out and get ridiculously drunk which is a crying shame. Oh, I am back from the commuter belt (as I fondly like to call Surrey) and securely in the middle of the M25 again. (Really, it is much like moving from one commuter belt to the other but this one has the prefix of Greater).
Where I live is en masse unexciting. It is on the very edge of a very large city which you may have heard of called London. The town does have the feel of being slightly overshadowed by something it will never quite be. We are just about on the London Underground (if you count Richmond, which I would say I do, as it is technically walking distance from my house) and very much in the oyster card area. It is known for one thing and one thing only: Rugby. (I am not, of course, from Rugby... I believe that is in the Midlands.) It has a plethora of grotty pubs (and the odd decent one), a selection of places for less than fine dining and an oasis of charity shops. The most exciting thing to happen in Twickenham over the last year was the opening of a Tesco Metro where the Red Lion used to be. I'm not sure how I feel about this because of the whole Socialist tendencies etc. However, its usefulness I cannot quibble. Anyway, when I was at Surrey I held Twickenham in an almost omnipotent glow. Now I am back here I am of course shining a light of similar calibre on Guildford.
Naturally I can see the faults in Twickenham. To name but a few: it's full of chavs; the shops are shit; the whole place needs a throughly good clean; its over run with school and college kids... etc etc. However, it is my home town and in a sort of A E Housman-esque manner I adore it and could sing its praises all day. (A E Housman- A Shropshire Lad, try On Bredon- it'll blow your bollocks off). To suffice to say, I am enjoying being at home. However, Jade and I are LAG TIL WE DIE when we get back to Guildford (after the exams of course). I am more than excited to be back in GTOWN where dreams are made and poets are woven.
Now, I feel is the time to, in a round about way, reveal the true nature of this post. I feel oddly gulity I've lured you all in to a romantic and rather charming account of how I love my town even though it's a shit hole blah blah blah and actually my real reason for this blog was to convey my deep hatred (no suprise there) of New Year's Eve.
I can hear you cry, dear reader, 'But Alex! You hate everything!' In short, yes. However, the way I feel about New Year is paticularly special. I really don't bloody like it. I resent the idea of New Year's Resolutions. January's grotty as fuck without the addition of horrid resolutions to give up the things we love best (fine food, smoking, alcohol, unsuitable suitors etc.) The parties almost always turn out to be shit: everyone gets trashed early on, and someone always starts crying. I always kiss someone inappropriate at midnight. Or worse, as was last year, my New Year's kiss was a gay man who clearly pitied my being unkissed state. Shame.
So my one and only New Year's Resolution was to spend New Year's Eve exactly as I want and the way I want to spend it is by cooking food all afternoon with Redburn, getting drunk and watching Jean Luc Godard films then maybe going to the place I work for a tipple and ending up at my friend Ciara's house at about 3. I refuse to go up to London, to go to a club, to go to a party or to do anything I don't definitely absolutely want to do. And I'm pretty fucking happy about it.
Happy New Year, you beautiful people. May the next year treat you well but not so well that I am jealous of your successes. Love.
Anyway, Christmas happened, turkey, presents, cracker yada yada yada. It was, on the whole, uneventful. I worked Christmas Eve so I didn't even go out and get ridiculously drunk which is a crying shame. Oh, I am back from the commuter belt (as I fondly like to call Surrey) and securely in the middle of the M25 again. (Really, it is much like moving from one commuter belt to the other but this one has the prefix of Greater).
Where I live is en masse unexciting. It is on the very edge of a very large city which you may have heard of called London. The town does have the feel of being slightly overshadowed by something it will never quite be. We are just about on the London Underground (if you count Richmond, which I would say I do, as it is technically walking distance from my house) and very much in the oyster card area. It is known for one thing and one thing only: Rugby. (I am not, of course, from Rugby... I believe that is in the Midlands.) It has a plethora of grotty pubs (and the odd decent one), a selection of places for less than fine dining and an oasis of charity shops. The most exciting thing to happen in Twickenham over the last year was the opening of a Tesco Metro where the Red Lion used to be. I'm not sure how I feel about this because of the whole Socialist tendencies etc. However, its usefulness I cannot quibble. Anyway, when I was at Surrey I held Twickenham in an almost omnipotent glow. Now I am back here I am of course shining a light of similar calibre on Guildford.
Naturally I can see the faults in Twickenham. To name but a few: it's full of chavs; the shops are shit; the whole place needs a throughly good clean; its over run with school and college kids... etc etc. However, it is my home town and in a sort of A E Housman-esque manner I adore it and could sing its praises all day. (A E Housman- A Shropshire Lad, try On Bredon- it'll blow your bollocks off). To suffice to say, I am enjoying being at home. However, Jade and I are LAG TIL WE DIE when we get back to Guildford (after the exams of course). I am more than excited to be back in GTOWN where dreams are made and poets are woven.
Now, I feel is the time to, in a round about way, reveal the true nature of this post. I feel oddly gulity I've lured you all in to a romantic and rather charming account of how I love my town even though it's a shit hole blah blah blah and actually my real reason for this blog was to convey my deep hatred (no suprise there) of New Year's Eve.
I can hear you cry, dear reader, 'But Alex! You hate everything!' In short, yes. However, the way I feel about New Year is paticularly special. I really don't bloody like it. I resent the idea of New Year's Resolutions. January's grotty as fuck without the addition of horrid resolutions to give up the things we love best (fine food, smoking, alcohol, unsuitable suitors etc.) The parties almost always turn out to be shit: everyone gets trashed early on, and someone always starts crying. I always kiss someone inappropriate at midnight. Or worse, as was last year, my New Year's kiss was a gay man who clearly pitied my being unkissed state. Shame.
So my one and only New Year's Resolution was to spend New Year's Eve exactly as I want and the way I want to spend it is by cooking food all afternoon with Redburn, getting drunk and watching Jean Luc Godard films then maybe going to the place I work for a tipple and ending up at my friend Ciara's house at about 3. I refuse to go up to London, to go to a club, to go to a party or to do anything I don't definitely absolutely want to do. And I'm pretty fucking happy about it.
Happy New Year, you beautiful people. May the next year treat you well but not so well that I am jealous of your successes. Love.
Monday, 6 December 2010
Hit List
Well hello there all 6 readers. How are we all?
I have had exceptionally bad snow over in this region of Surrey. Now I hate snow. Totally hate it. Cold, wet, miserable and house bound are the four words which spring to mind when I think about snow. Less white Christmas and more fuck my life. I HAD to go home on Thursday and pick up Tristan's Christmas present. (It was gig tickets to a gig we attended on Sunday in Nottingham which was beyond fun). And I waited two hours in the blistering cold for a bloody train. Then more at the next stop. In total it took 3 and a half hours to go 3 stops on the train. At which point I was picked up by my parents. Awesome.
Also, something I feel ashamed about. I hate Christmas. I hate 'good will'. I hate turkey. I hate spending all day in doors. I hate seeing my family stressed. I hate not being able to wander off. I hate buying people things they neither want nor need. I feel uncomfortable about this. Whilst talking to my lecture buddy Becky I said, 'I hate Christmas' and she simply responding with, 'Yeah because you're a miserable cow.' This led me on to thinking about things I dislike. And as you have probably all realised I like making lists so I thought I would list a few things I hate.
1) The General Public- I hate people. Not everyone just most of them. Particularly those on public transport.
2) Which leads me on nicely to People Who Put Their Bags On The Seat On The Train. This is probably my number one hate. Either you have a seat or your bag has a seat. Can you not see that people are STANDING UP and maybe might just want that seat? In fact this irritated me so much that I rang Shoni and spoke very loudly about how much I hate this.
3) People Who Push In The Queue- wait your turn you bastard.
4) Bananas- seriously gross.
5) People Who Over Do It On The Internet- No one cares that you're lonely. Go home.
6) Public Transport- self explanatory.
7) Malibu- too sweet.
8) Dolminos- too expensive, albeit delicious.
9) Being Woken Up- if I'm asleep shut the fuck up.
10) People Who Enjoy Being Stupid- There is no pride in being an idiot. I hate people who become 'famous' because they couldn't pass GCSE RE.
11) Girls Who Are Always Naked on a Night Out- it's cold. Dress accordingly.
12) Jedward- No.
13) Tramp Stamps- No.
14) Certain People- I cannot mention names. But you probably know. Rascists, bigots, homophobes etc...
I have to end it here because I'm getting angry.
Here are the only things I love:
1) Books- they will save your life.
2) The people I am lucky enough to call my friends.
3) Mr. T. P. Redburn. He's cynical and sexy. It's good.
4) Ivy's blog. Read it: http://brightonivy.blogspot.com/ It's so good it should be illegal. In fact it probably is in some countries.
5) The Smiths.
6) Philip Larkin- poetry makes me a bit woozy in general. Bit like getting drunk on intellectualism. Nice.
7) Spotify.
And that is it.
I have had exceptionally bad snow over in this region of Surrey. Now I hate snow. Totally hate it. Cold, wet, miserable and house bound are the four words which spring to mind when I think about snow. Less white Christmas and more fuck my life. I HAD to go home on Thursday and pick up Tristan's Christmas present. (It was gig tickets to a gig we attended on Sunday in Nottingham which was beyond fun). And I waited two hours in the blistering cold for a bloody train. Then more at the next stop. In total it took 3 and a half hours to go 3 stops on the train. At which point I was picked up by my parents. Awesome.
Also, something I feel ashamed about. I hate Christmas. I hate 'good will'. I hate turkey. I hate spending all day in doors. I hate seeing my family stressed. I hate not being able to wander off. I hate buying people things they neither want nor need. I feel uncomfortable about this. Whilst talking to my lecture buddy Becky I said, 'I hate Christmas' and she simply responding with, 'Yeah because you're a miserable cow.' This led me on to thinking about things I dislike. And as you have probably all realised I like making lists so I thought I would list a few things I hate.
1) The General Public- I hate people. Not everyone just most of them. Particularly those on public transport.
2) Which leads me on nicely to People Who Put Their Bags On The Seat On The Train. This is probably my number one hate. Either you have a seat or your bag has a seat. Can you not see that people are STANDING UP and maybe might just want that seat? In fact this irritated me so much that I rang Shoni and spoke very loudly about how much I hate this.
3) People Who Push In The Queue- wait your turn you bastard.
4) Bananas- seriously gross.
5) People Who Over Do It On The Internet- No one cares that you're lonely. Go home.
6) Public Transport- self explanatory.
7) Malibu- too sweet.
8) Dolminos- too expensive, albeit delicious.
9) Being Woken Up- if I'm asleep shut the fuck up.
10) People Who Enjoy Being Stupid- There is no pride in being an idiot. I hate people who become 'famous' because they couldn't pass GCSE RE.
11) Girls Who Are Always Naked on a Night Out- it's cold. Dress accordingly.
12) Jedward- No.
13) Tramp Stamps- No.
14) Certain People- I cannot mention names. But you probably know. Rascists, bigots, homophobes etc...
I have to end it here because I'm getting angry.
Here are the only things I love:
1) Books- they will save your life.
2) The people I am lucky enough to call my friends.
3) Mr. T. P. Redburn. He's cynical and sexy. It's good.
4) Ivy's blog. Read it: http://brightonivy.blogspot.com/ It's so good it should be illegal. In fact it probably is in some countries.
5) The Smiths.
6) Philip Larkin- poetry makes me a bit woozy in general. Bit like getting drunk on intellectualism. Nice.
7) Spotify.
And that is it.
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