'cause heroes wear masks and lycra

As much as I adore Los Campesinos! right now and they are my favourite band of all time, I forget that there were loves beforehand. None as all-encompassing but still with that amazing feeling when you have a band and you love them and everything in the world seems alive and brilliant. Girls may come and go but there is always the music.

The first band I ever truly loved were The Maccabees. I remember the moment I first knew they existed, sitting on the sofa at Teri's house watching MTV2. The video of Latchmere came on. Great stop-motion video. The song is brilliant obviously but I wasn't overwhelmed at the time. I liked it a lot though and it stayed in my head. I bought the single and the b-side from iTunes and then I first saw them 4 years ago today, at the Junction supporting The Fratellis on the NME Rock and Roll Riot Tour. I've seen them 5 or 6 times since and every one brilliant, from the downstairs at Fopp to the John Peel stage at Glastonbury. Them and their music soundtracked my first flushes of young adulthood and it was the perfect sound for it. I'd like to see them again and I hope they play Mary. it always makes me cry.

she said it's written in the stars but i don't look at the stars anymore. I just someone to die for

So. Right now, things are feeling ok.

It's a week until my twentieth birthday.

i've got ideas. i've got so many ideas. but why don't they become something? i have to make them something. a set of songs. the confessions of an ardent heart, in verse. that's me. a sensualist. brazen face and a karamazov conscience.

when i think about things i realise all of the things i disliked about Clara. she lied about the little things and she thought she was so much cooler than she really was. she could be stressy and everything that she's done has made me see how changing and dark and mean she could be.

but the things i miss.

the smell of her neck with her hair on my nose, nuzzling her scarf.

the mole on her knee, passing through her leg.

the curve of her foot.

the way she looked at me.

I don't need these things. but it doesn't stop me wanting them.

but is that just her, or anybody.

special purpose

it seems that my reason for this blog is changing.

i'm being less current. it's better just to type things that i am thinking about.

Once my aunt worked as a carer. I particularly remember when she looked after a man in Steeple Bumpstead called Robert. In my memory he looked like Lizo from Newsround. I'm sure he didn't.

Anyway, there was a time that she was looking after an old man. He looks like Leslie Phillips in my mind. He said to my aunt "would you awfully mind if I called you pussycat?".

I don't know if she did.

a memory

One time about 4 or 5 years ago, I was standing in my bathroom brushing my teeth when I heard the TARDIS outside my house. I ran down the hall and down the stairs and out of the front door and looked. The swings on the green outside my house were swinging in the wind. The old rusty joints were making a large bowing noise.

Though I will always feel sad that it wasn't indeed the Doctor, come to rescue me from the mundane existence I lead, I treasure this memory. The hope and excitement I felt then exceeds anything I think I will ever feel.