(The title of this blog is pleasing me greatly, because it reminds me of the beginning of Sylvie and Bruno, the first in the less-well-known of Lewis Carroll's duo of books for children, in which the villagers are marching outside the town hall (or some such) and are chanting, but have got their chant slightly mixed up, so that they are saying 'Less bread! More taxes!'. I read those books for the first time I was about 17 and in the grip of a mild Lewis Carroll obsession, during which I dreamt (day and night dreams both) that I was Alice Lidl and that the March Hare was living at the bottom of my garden. I devoured them both (the books, not Alice and the hare) in several days, while all the time listening to Low by David Bowie (my favourite of his albums). Still, to this day, when I hear Always Crashing in the Same Car, it makes me think that I'm back in the genuinely magical world of Sylvie and Bruno, and it fills me full of hope that there's treasure everywhere after all. And whenever I think of Sylvie and Bruno, it makes me think of David Bowie. So all in all, this is a good start.
In fact, here's a little link to the very chapter I mean, because I think more people should read these books...
I've been reading this blog back over and over quite a lot in the past few weeks. It is a sad fact of my narcissism that whenever I write anything, even a mundane post on the daily thread on the forum I use every day, I read it back four or five times at minimum to congratulate myself on how bloody clever I am. Shameful, isn't it? However, on reading this back over, I have noted two things which have saddened me. Well, actually, that's a lie... one of these things hasn't really saddened me, but I know perhaps it should. So what are these things?
1. This blog is all (or mostly, to a statistically significant level, I'm sure) (not that I'm gonna do a t-test or anything, but that's my guess) about boys.
This is the point that makes me sad, as I think that makes me look pretty shallow. And I'm not shallow, I'm not, I'm not! At least, that's what my manicurist told me. There is more stuff that goes on in my head that fretting about boys though. Really, really, there is. It just tends to be fretting about boys which brings out the melancholy in me, and when I get melancholy, I get a vast urge to splash it everywhere and tell everyone. And if there's one place you're really allowed to get away with being that self-indulgent, it's in your own blog, right? But still. There is more to me that heartbreak!
And as a sub-point, it also makes me sad that I've only ever written in this blog when I've been single. Which is also a bit pathetic. However, since I have made a new year's resolution to stay single for at least a year (more on this later, perhaps) (so you can stop battering the door down now, boys!) (a-hardy ha ha), that's unlikely to change any time soon.
2. It's all (and I really mean all this time) WHINING!
(This, in truth, bothers me less. I know myself. I whine a lot. I think people who are happy all the time are vile. But it might make people stop reading, and I couldn't live with myself if you weren't - all eight of you - on the edges of your seats, hanging on my every word. Which of course you all are, right?) (Just say yes... the shock at discovering I'm NOT the centre of the universe might put me into a coma, and none of us surely wants that.) (What was that I was saying about being shallow?)
Here is a post which has less boys! Less whining!
My favourite place in the world is exactly where I am as I write this. My bed. In my room. In my house. Generally, I've noticed, when people are asked what their favourite place is, they give very exotic answers (such and such beach in Kenya when the sun is going down) or at least outdoors type places (some hill in Wales or something)... but while I like outdoors an acceptable amount, there is just nothing to beat my bed, in my room, in my house. My bed is deliciously comfortable, for a start. Everything I could possibly want - glasses, drink, gameboy, book, computer, TV remotes, Joseph Fiennes bear, phone, snacks, radio, super-cool Hello Kitty light - is right within reach. And I'm generally alone here, which is what I like best cos then I can watch all the lame TV I want without having to apologise for it, and I can wear my pyjamas and wiggle my toes and dream the crazy, extended-plotline, technicolour dreams I have just about every night of my life, and I don't feel I could want for anything more.
My favourite radio show in world (uncontested now that Adam and Joe have gone on holiday and been replaced by (boo! hisss!) Danny Wallace) is Shaun Keaveney on 6 Music in the mornings. He's on from 7 til 10, and even though I don't need to get up til 8.30, my radio comes on at 7 so I don't miss any. I didn't have a radio for years when I first moved into this house. My old stereo, which was all one big thing, broke, and I got separates. Remember, back in the good old days, when your amp and your tuner were all in one piece? (and you could buy it and still have change for the bus home etc. etc.) ;-) Well, not any more, kids!! (Not for some time now, in fact, since this was five years ago) All I could afford was an amp, a CD player, a record deck and a tape player (inheritance from my nan... thanks nanny), I couldn't afford the tuner as well. Looking back, the tape deck may have been less of an investment than the tuner was, but however, I wasn't to know that at the time. ;-) When I had my old stereo, I would listen to Christian O'Connell on XFM every morning, and I was so fully in love with him, I thought he was the best thing ever. But without a radio, I soon forgot how good radios are, and got into the terrible habit of watching snatches of episodes of Friends or SATC as I got dressed in the morning.
So when I bought myself a DAB radio (which I mainly got cos I discovered that listening to talking cures me of insomnia, so I listen to radio 7 when I can't sleep), I took advice from my best friend and DJ life partner, and started listening to Shaun in the mornings. I can't work out if this is a coincidence, or some kind of conditioning, and I'd be the same with whoever was talking to me from a little box first thing in the morning, even if it was Maggie Thatcher, but now I'm totally, 100% in love with Shaun and think HE'S the best thing in the world ever. He likes Prince! And Morrissey! And he's so dry and funny. He loves Christmas and snow, and he hates Lenny Kravitz, and the way he dotes on his son is the cutest thing ever. It's always a bit of a wrench to leave the house before the show is over.
My favourite book in the world is (I think) the Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, by Mark Haddon. I believe, as a general principle, that if art can convey BIG emotion with small stuff (words, images, sounds... whatever) then that is gonna be the best art. I love economical art. Anyone can use fancy long words and make big points with big brushstrokes - but it takes a true genius to insinuate, to hint at the iceberg below the water while only showing us the tip. And this book is the ultimate example of that. How the hell he got so convincingly inside Christopher's mind I will never understand. It's just... perfect. What a shame A Spot of Bother was such a let-down.
Anyway, I think that's enough unbridled joy for now, wouldn't you say? Is this what Morrissey would've wanted? I don't think so. Have some more poems and leave me alone. ;-)
Oh DJ Mittens, you have a dinosaur hood,
D'you want pink or brown, Lamborgini, or fruity good?
Let's go duck crawling, but don't throw a shoe...
What, no cheese?? I will really miss you.
My favourite psytrance pixie has mad hoola-hooping skills,
she's so clever with the camera that it gives me the chills.
The best gin-drinking, youngest member of the fabulous Team Ginger,
Rachel, my beautiful Ozora buddy, you are such a winner!