The : Hills : Are : Alive

I'm listening to a couple of her songs whilst I write this, her music is haunting yet comforting. The heavy handed style with which she controls the ivory keys, in the song "Spiracle" reminds me of the style of music you used to get in silent films, enhancing even more the nostalgic and even ghostly atmosphere to her tones. Her voice, whilst delicate is almost pained, perhaps this explains the strange feeling I get deep inside me when her music plays out to me from her myspace page. It is as if she is in my room, not because of the high quality of sound but because the presence in her voice is so very physical, as if she has some sort of contact with my soul. She played in Paris recently and many people recorded an overwhelming sensation whilst attending her concert, a feeling unlike any other that music can encourage, individual to each and every listener, much like their souls, unique. She makes no attempt to conceal her strong Austrian accent, and rightly so, as it adds a complexity to the emotive lyrics with which she paints each note from the piano. Anja Plaschg is definitely an artist that I will be listening to a great deal more often. . . .

Morning : Streetcleaners

Ahhhh! Got woken up this morning by a ruddy noisy street cleaning machine thingy, not cool. Mind you it wasn't all bad it got me up in time to get to my first lecture of the day, although I was a little disappointed, having thought it was going ot be based on the technique of designing envelopes it was infact some what tedious and lead by a grey haired, long faced, dreary little woman. She is one of those people that takes a relatively standard subject, like pickle, and runs with it for a good three hours, except she is so overwhelmingly boring that she does not run, and instead it is more of a trundle. Trundling through pickle at nine o' clock on a Tuesday morning is, to say the least, not one of my most exhilarating past times.

Today will mostly be spent in bed, I can't seem to shift this ruddy snotty nose and clogged up lungs, and so will be feeling sorry for myself, whilst I snuggle under my duvet with a peppermint tea and watch Amelie on repeat. Sympathy please?!
Anyhoo, the kettle is whistling and the delicate tones of the Amelie theme tune are beginning to fill my cosy little room, I'm off.

Through : the : Wire

The new range of headphones from WESC are freakin shibby,

loads of limited edition designs and not too pricey. My

favourtie are these Oboe Blarney Green ones,(below) if anyone doesn't know

what to get me for Christmas.....hint, hint.

Supreme : Photographic : Brief

Snish : Music

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAHmd3A8OHU&feature=PlayList&p=B6367DBEDF1E6443&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=41

Liking the sound of this little lot at the moment.

"Snish provide an amped-up mix of My Chemical Romance bombast and Rage Against The Machine riffery. " the-fly.co.uk

An : Uncomfortable : State : of : Mind

To return to a state of anger after such an excitable week is a risk. It tends to attempt to destory the most important elements of the soul, the elements that allow you to remain positive when times are hard as well as the more romantic, poetic features.

Luckily for me I'm not one to remain in such a negative state, I like to let it all go, and that is why writing is important to me. I have a tendancy to bottle up my emotions and feelings. In no way is this an admirable feature to my personality, however it does allow me to nurture a more poetic soul. Something that I greatly appreciate about myself.

I am far from being a simple soul but I like to think that those who know me, appreciate my desire to remain misunderstood. However those personalities with which I clash, tend to be those members of society that frequently express their emotions in the most erratic way. Crying often irritates me, well openly crying anyway.

I am traditional in my views, and I see it as a weakness and inability to cope with ones own feelings. I am sympathetic to those whom I believe to be reasonably upset, however it is not within my nature to attempt to empathise with those less poetic souls who simply outlet their emotions through salty tears and empty words.

My advice is simply, open your soul to a piece of paper, it is the best remedy I know of. With a pen in your hand and your feelings, like a fountain, bursting from your fingertips, you are able to cope with even the most distressing of situations.

I realise I sound like a cold hearted person, and perhaps more of a lone ranger, but my network of friends, although small, are appreciative and appreciated. Not through an exchange of tears at every opportunity, but through our individual ability as poetic souls to express our emotions in a more meaningful way.

Write, dance, sing, strum....no tears. For frick sake, don't cry, there is plenty to live for, and when it starts to rain remember that you will smile again.

Robot : Doodle

Thursday : came : round : quickly

Spent today in the gym and wandering through the streets of Nottingham looking for a golf related fancy dress outfit, not a bad day in anyway, but not a particularly exhilarating one either. Happy.

Am sitting in my room listening to a bit of Laura Marling. Her words are soulful, and more often than not relate to my state of mind and current life. Have just spoken to a good and close friend, and will hopefully get the chance to see him on my birthday weekend. Although a brief conversation, his cheeky chappy one liners and general concern are warming to me, I ashamedly feel that I do not appreciate my relationship with him often enough.

The atmosphere is relatively tense, and I find myself unable to share a concern for such trivial matters. I am simply living to the best of my ability, I have no time for grey days or negative thoughts. I am living now, I will worry later.

Have been working on my moodboards today. One for the depiction of the cigarette as a symbol within our society in comparison to a more historical outlook on smoking, and the other for the advance in "Organic" as a trend and fashion. Am very much, not looking forward to the presentation of these moodboards, but will attempt to avoid thinking about it so as not to tye my tummy into too many knots.

Buying cups of tea for the big issue man

Blurgh. The gym this morning was definitely a bad idea! Went to Oceana last night and it was truly horrific. Men squeezing past girls and girls rubbing themselves against chaps that are innocently wading through the crowd of hormones and push up bras. . . . The music was as equally disturbing as the folk surrounding me, a mixture of quoestionable remixes such as Kings of Leon and Beyonce, make of that what you will. It is hard to write poetically about such a sorry state of affairs, and because of this I will move on.

Have you ever been in love? I'm not sure if I have or not. I have felt a tremendous movement within my soul, a movement for someone. Frightening at first, almost like a part of me was taken away and would only be returned by the presence of that someone. Strange.

To me love has to be forever, although it can get weaker over time, if you let it, it will always be in you somehwere. Love should be running through your hands when you touch that someone, it should be the sparks in yur mind that trigger the adrenaline rush when you imagine that persons face for the most brief of moments. It should be the difference between listening to a song and hearing its meaning. I tend to ramble like this, but I feel the need to roll out these words across this virtual page, perhaps seeking reassurance, perhaps a simple spring clean within my mind, making space for more pointless thoughts.

Today I bought a cup of tea for a man selling big issues in Nottingham outside The Body Shop, with two white sugars. He seemed pretty chuffed by my act of random thoughtfulness. £1.60 is a small price to pay to make someones day that much easier, or at least warm their fingers and toes for a moment. If you have the opportunity, realise your ability to put a smile on the face of a random member of the public. Sometimes a smile is all it takes.

Downtown New York

The two of us continue to wander through the snowy streets, barely a word is exchanged, but currently there is no need ofr verbal distractions, the aesthetic pleasures are more than satisfactory. We decide in our cosmopolitan way to "do lunch", but somewhere local, somewhere with a sense of personality, somewhere with blue window sills and mis-matching chairs....

....Home made lentil soup is on the menu, and it's not long before the dented enamel bowls of steamy broth arrive with chunks of giabatta in a similarly distressed vessel. This is idealic, the buttery liquid warms the throat as the window seat provides a constant film like reel of entertainment, as we watch downtown go about its daily business.

They run across the street, dodging the traffic with a cheeky jump and twirl. Their neon jackets create slashes of colour, cutting across the dull grey of the New York sity skyline by day. They stop in front of an overwhelming wall of colour, covered in ethnic sketches. African tribal attributes are apparent, contrasted with a zesty urban backdrop of vibrant yellow and magenta. He dances, freely and carelessly infront of his scenery, and although his movements are not choreographed his body form shapes artistically familiar with balletic figures such as D.Bussell.

Also, if you guys can't find the image, no worries just bash out a short story about how it made you feel and why it has had such an effect on you. Thanks.

A : bit : of : my : writing

The Eiffel Tower looms above, solid yet humble as a structure. It's grid like structure reflects a similarity to the complex nature of one's own mind, intricate in detail and overwhelming in design, but ultimately when looked at a little closer, simple in its being and uniqness.

I stand directly under its metal rafters, my feet wavering slightly on the cold bronze marker point, as I gaze up and inhale its vastness. As I stand, I close my eyes holding them tightly together, like the clasp of lovers lips. I imagine, I dream, my mind saunters along a path cobbled with romance, gravelled with lovers, yet remains untrodden, as I remain once again, alone. I make a wish, but now is not the time to reveal such wistful desires, in fear that they may not come true.

I draw myself away from this spot, purchasing a scalding cafe ou lait from a nearby venders cart, laiden with warm cinamon sticks for the little ones & roasted chestnuts for thr big ones little at heart.

The art of people watching is to allow one's self to detach from personal dilemas & issues, allowing instead the eyes to encourage the imagination.

I burn my lips on the edge of the small polystyrene cup, & innocently & unkowingly allow a small tear of milky coffee explore the crevase between lip & chin. My lack of concnetrayion is the result of a glimpse of a young couple embracing, at the very spot upon which I had previously lost all sense & allowed my heart to wish for a future path.

He holds her hand lovingly but knowingly, he is aware of her beauty and is equally aware of the wandering gaze of others. His hand upon hers reminds her of his love and warns others of its eternal nature.

Darkened bristles protrude from his chin & graze his scarlet scarf as he draws his eyes from his lover to gaze upon the now familiar landmark of love. She watchs him, she is young and inquisiticve in nature, As she appreciates her new found love a sudden rush of passion overtakes her body, as she lightly raises her ankles, balletic in form, remaining almost on point to kiss his cheek.

As I watch my mind is allowed to expand on their situation. As they walk home he will buy a glowing cup of mulled wine to comfort his bones from the icey weather, she will sip from it to show her maturity but will refrain from a second tasting due to her definite dislike of the steaming purple broth.

They will walk home together, he will step out of his usually demur character and encourage her to dance with him along the edge of the river. Although illuminated the walk way is in no need of light as the couples deepening love for each other grows with every step and is clear & bright for everyone to see.

What's : it : all : about

This is a chance for anyone & everyone to express how they are feeling at any given point during the day or night. Just bash up some photos that you find or have taken that made you smile or trigger a memory. Would be cool if you wrote a little bit about the photo if you have got the time, just a little story to make it more personal. No negative comments, keep those quiet for now, but express yourself in any other way. . .

To : get : things : started :