JULIE

It is Julie's birthday today.

She is awesome and now 15. The very pinnacle of angst and other teenage characteristics.

She has every season of House on dvd. I may never see her again.

You're eating brains out the back of my head

La Blogotheque is my new favourite thing. I'm building playlist upon playlist of wonderful things.

Maybe you would like to watch The Shins wander around Paris and play some shit. Who wouldn't? or how about Arcade Fire in a lift? Final Fantasy? Maybe a little bit of the Animal Collective if interesting sounds are more your fancy. They also have The Spinto Band! It's like the first one as well. So much love for this site.

These things are found here.

Can you be in love with a website? I am in love with this website.

That's quite enough of that nonsense

A girl that worked in one of the offices I clean lives in Hagrid's Hut. I almost wrote down the rest of the address so I could visit and demand dragon eggs or whatever it is that Hagrid did after that, I don't remember. There were so many French people selling food. I got a coconut thing and stared longingly at the Turkish Delight but there was no seller at that stand. Gutted.

I have written a poem about Jack and Jill. They went up the hill and got shot. It is probably terrible but I love it so who cares.

Not I.

I'm gonna watch the Pixies now. They are all so fat, I may just shut my eyes and listen. Kinda seems a waste of an HD channel but WHATEVER.

You're so vain

Woke up with a bad taste in my mouth and a headache in the corners of my eyes. But by the time I'm frothing minty freshness at the bleary smear that represents me in the mirror I've already started to erase you.

I am not a social person. I am only ever as close to being myself on a one-to-one basis and that entirely depends on whether I like you or I trust you (the two are not mutually exclusive). I would say at this moment in my life and for the best part of a year there are two people who could say they know me and I would not get defensive about it. One I like and one I trust. One of each like some dippy parents who want an ideal. I have never had any problems being alone. In a group or utterly by myself I think the same amount of shit, I overanalyse the same amount of shit. The times when I've come home happy are when I've seen the one I like or the one I trust. Which reminds me I should call the trustworthy one and take her out for a drink sometime soon. All I have ever done is seek the quiet in the bustling. Hence the West End where I can take a bus into people every ten minutes if I need to or sit still somewhere and not talk to anybody. I don't care what people think of me, you can believe that if you want to. What I care about is when people talk that idea of me they've created and infiltrate to question what I do. I have never asked anybody to help me. I have never asked anybody to fix me. I have been single for a long time but not as long as I talk. Because there's little to say. And yes I do in fact want a relationship but I want to fall in love. I want it to mean something and more importantly I want a relationship that will not change me in any other way than to make me happier. It's this reason why I seek and hold on to the people who don't feel the need to tell me what's wrong and what's right. It's this reason I fall in love most days with people I don't know and will never know or I fall for people I can't have and I'm not sure I really want but I fall anyway. If we ignore films and songs and books the last time I cried was at the sky, in a fit of what you might call pretentiousness. I can be hurt and have been hurt but you know what. I am nineteen years old in my second year of a pointless degree with no real job and no real talent. I am not even that attractive or that smart. I am alive though and not unhappy being so. At this moment, that's good enough for me.

So in the nicest way I can possibly manage, do fuck off.

Miles Davis had the worst taste in denim

There was a deer in the East end of Glasgow, running through the parked cars and gathering a crowd of green and white hoops.

Also McManus launched himself into the crowd sometime in the second half, hurdling the barrier of ads with too much momentum. Nobody caught him.

Pretty girls make graves

A one-way ticket to Paris costs £70.

A night's stay in a hostel costs €20.

So right this minute I could stay roughly 3 weeks and then hope I evaporate somewhere in Montmartre.

Sunsets with people you don't love

Do we, as human beings, have some innate desire to climb up as high as we can? I was just thinking we go on holidays and pay money to climb up towers and buildings and mountains. I wish I had kept count of every step I climbed whilst on holiday. I wish I could calculate the Empire State and the Eiffel Tower and the Spanish Steps and La Sagrada Familia and the steps leading up to Catherine the Great's palace and the Wallace Monument (I did in fact count those steps). We climb, climb, climb to get the highest view. Reaching up to God, touch a star, swipe a cloud. I'd make some reference to the Tower of Babylon but I never got that far in the Bible. Though I did find out the Whore of Babylon was just a metaphorical whore.

I have a sudden urge to write something about Jack and Jill.