The Crack Of Doom Came Too Soon and other Tails

Within moments of writing that last blog I started a GI bleed. Spooky OR WHAT?!?! It doesn't seem too worrying but i'll sleep with some Emla on just in case I need a top-up through the night. I think the Tiger Lillies are Doris Stokes in many a varied disguise.

PJ Harvey was great on Joolz Holland tonight, although I just wanted to say to her "but's what's with the ornaments chick?" The Foals and King Creosote were entertaining too.

So next week, send lots of bloody nice energies to the smashing Ros for her op.

Maybe see Sons and Daughters(mon), The Raveonettes(wed) and The Buzzcocks(fri). Hmmm. Oh, and there's a further installment of the Ben kareoke experience/obsession over in Didsbury :) with some super folk I met at the bonfire kareoke... :-/. It sometimes occurs to me that home kareoke is my predominent frequent activity, does that make 'not-singing kareoke in public but at home' a hobby? I love wine. Everyone should have a hobby.

I still read Daves blog (- you do it to yourself, you do, that's what really hurts). Not that there's much to read. Not that there's much to hurt. It's seems sadly menial that livejournal is our final link in the chain of our bondage. I don't want to read certain things about/written by him anymore. I can't and won't be part, or, bear witness to the little seams of light that he decides I can have glimpses of, when it suits Him. But I can't hit delete. I guess I'm just irked as I fancied going to The Buzzcocks next week but I don't wanna bump in to him, I don't know why particularly, it's just a vague NO in my head, ok maybe that NO wasn't that vague... Maybe it's because I'm weak- like how ? Like he's gonna flutter his long eyelashes and before we know it we'll entrained in a tornado of breathy demands, tongue, hips, instincts, skin and lips... up against the cold brick wall of the railway arches.(-oooh, so where they're askin' in an alley and your voice ain't steady,if your sex mechanic's rough you're more than ready...).Then part like ships-wrecked in the night, washed up on the shore like a broken teen dream? *Shakes head/not gives it*. Maybe cos I don't wanna remember the feeling of rejection, which makes me question why should I still feel rejected? Your mother giving you up when your born is probably the biggest rejection, all other rejections pale into complete insignificance by comparison. Maybe I just don't want to remember and re-connect with these extreme emotions. I don't need an emotional hijacking. I'm crap at absolute endings... and at the end of the gig we would have to say Goodbye and I'd have to mean it most sincerely, I'm nearly there, one more lame shuffle and I'm out of this no womans land for good :). I'm not making much sense. Maybe I'm still too hurt and angry, but I'm pretty sure I'm just fairly numb(not in a shocked way) just in a *shrug* sort of way. Maybe I just don't want to run the risk of putting myself through anymore/just me guarding against an emotional rollercoaster moment, ya know? Maybe it's just fatigue. That's probably it. There's no lust anymore, no attraction, just mild distain, and the beleaguered promise of what-could-have-beens. Disapointment. Goodbyes are hard. We get on culturally too, just shame it got tainted along the way by fearfully awesome sex, complications and complicities. I'm not very good at goodbyes. Are goodbyes actually necessary? How about au revoir...? I'm all ears.

We've been involved
For quite a while now
And to keep you secret has been hell
We're strangers meeting for the first time O.K.?
Just smile and say hello
Say hello, then wave goodbye.