I met a girl once. Her name was... Well her name wasn’t really that important; I never called her by it anyway. I always gave people nicknames when I liked them. Names that were just for me and them. I guess that was the way I always showed affection. I had a name for this girl and she hated it and I kind of liked that she hated it, not least for the fact that it was a fun way to bond and flirt.
We met in the Summer, which I’ve always thought is the perfect time to meet a pretty, blonde girl and, although it wasn’t long ago, it felt like we’d known each other for a long time. She was similar to me in that she warmed to people really quickly. She loved hugs and she was great at them. One of the most endearing traits that anyone can have is the ability to make you feel safe in an embrace. She had this in spades. There was something about the way she held me when I put my arms around her that just made me feel warm. Like I could stand in a snow-storm without a coat if she just put her arms around my waist in that way that she did. And when she kissed me, the noise seemed to quieten and the world almost fell away… But then she did too. Her arms collapsed from my back and the smile fell from my face. And a question formed in the back of my mind. How did this story end? I struggled to remember. But though it seemed, on some level, all too clear, I couldn’t remember. I’d never heard this one before.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, December 27, 2009
This Year, I Lived.
So, for 22 years of my life, I had to wear glasses. Since a young age, I felt this a curse. It was normal for me, of course, but I always felt abnormal because of it. Why did everyone else get to just see when I needed these awkward frames that needed readjustment every five seconds and got fogged up all the time and had to be removed when I'd shower or play contact sports or try to swim or have sex or go to sleep? How unfair is that?! So anyway, not too long before my 23rd birthday, I went through a shitty break-up; the kind that makes you want to reinvent yourself. So, although I'd always thought-and I don't know where this thought came from-that I was stuck in this half-happy life of pushing up my glasses on my nose like a typical tv nerd, I decided one drunken night that I'd get tested for contact lenses. I make crazy plans while drunk but the next morning, when I awoke and felt like dying, I thought "Fuck this shít, I'm gonna stick to the promise I made myself" and I called up Specsavers and made an appointment.
Four weeks and three failed attempts at my "lens test" later, I finally managed to get the stupid things into my eyes. It sounds dramatic but, believe me when I say, the decision to follow through on that drunken idea has literally changed my life. But anyway, that is all just back-story. What made me smile was.... Last night, I decided to walk home after work. It was 3:30am. It was cold, dark, dreary and raining. I walked alone, listening to my iPod and singing along. I love walking in the rain. I LOVE it. And the reason that I love it, and the reason that I smile is that, these days, since that decision, I can walk in the rain and listen to my iPod and sing along and I can see the world around me. I can see the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement and the drunks hailing cabs, the couples journeying home and the pubs all closing. I can see it all and I never once have to stop, blurry eyed as I wipe the precipitation from my shaky glasses. I can see the world in all its rainy glory the way it's meant to be. And when I do, I feel normal. I feel great. It's the tiniest of mercies but, to me, it literally means the world.
Four weeks and three failed attempts at my "lens test" later, I finally managed to get the stupid things into my eyes. It sounds dramatic but, believe me when I say, the decision to follow through on that drunken idea has literally changed my life. But anyway, that is all just back-story. What made me smile was.... Last night, I decided to walk home after work. It was 3:30am. It was cold, dark, dreary and raining. I walked alone, listening to my iPod and singing along. I love walking in the rain. I LOVE it. And the reason that I love it, and the reason that I smile is that, these days, since that decision, I can walk in the rain and listen to my iPod and sing along and I can see the world around me. I can see the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement and the drunks hailing cabs, the couples journeying home and the pubs all closing. I can see it all and I never once have to stop, blurry eyed as I wipe the precipitation from my shaky glasses. I can see the world in all its rainy glory the way it's meant to be. And when I do, I feel normal. I feel great. It's the tiniest of mercies but, to me, it literally means the world.
Friday, August 21, 2009
A Final Note
The first time I saw Kidd Blunt, I was fifteen years old, neck deep in the excitement and happiness of my first band and my first love. It was the Summer that we all have; the one you always remember, and there I was in the under-crowded, contextually over-expansive Red Box. I wasn't there for Kidd Blunt and, in fact, had never heard of them. But I loved them right away and if I think hard enough and confabulate just a little bit, I could swear I remember what song they were playing when I turned to my girlfriend said "They sound like NoFX, they're amazing!!!"
It was a couple of years after that first afternoon gig when I saw Kidd Blunt for the second time and I hated them. A mixture of dramatic teenage angst and jealousy had poisoned me against them for some reason and, on top of that, they didn't sound like NoFX anymore. In truth, they didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. In fact, I couldn't really hear them at all, so bad were the acoustics in the horrible Church Hall they were playing. It's funny to think about it in such clichéd terms but I'd be lying if I didn't say that it all changed for me with one simple, almost insignificant gesture. I was walking through town alone and saw Stephen, KB's drummer, coming my way. We'd had a few ill words towards each other on the internet (I believe he'd called me a cunt) and my stomach fell. I knew he recognised me and I knew that he knew that I recognised him. Politeness took hold and I nodded as we passed, expecting the same in return. Instead, I got a smile and a "How are ya!?" He was a nice guy.... Guess I can't hate his band out of jealousy anymore, I thought.
Screams filled the air and a guitar made noises that I'd never heard a guitar make before. The snare drum sounded like the fire of a Gatling gun that fired for far longer than a drummer should be able to hold a steady roll. And I sang along. Because after a few gigs of listening to this band, their songs became anthems. I didn't know the words but I fucking screamed them anyway. I was sweaty and drunk and falling into other people and being pushed into the stage and my voice was horse from doing the same thing two nights before. I was in love for the second time of my life, but this time, it was with a band. When I think about it now, I don't even remember how long ago that it was that I fell in love with this band. I don't care to remember either because I know that my life was made better and easier by their presence in it. Finally, after years of trying to find somewhere to fit in, something to relate to, some sort of release for the anger or hurt or happiness, I had found my self lost in time. Everything slipped away in the minutes and hours I racked up spent singing along to these songs, talking to Stephen about what the band was doing (or more often, girls) or chatting with Turlough about the lyrics and the gigs and whatever else (more likely, girls).
It's been seven years since the first time I saw the band. Seven years. And they were playing for four before even that. Over a decade of playing music together. I've never done ANYTHING for a decade! One time at a party, Turlough invited me to see them play in Galway the following week. I didn't see why not so off we went. When I think back over the 'punkest' times of my life, that gig in Galway was probably at the top of the list. Arriving after a 6 hour drive just in time to miss KB's set; standing inch deep in piss pouring cans for me and Turlough while he took a shit in the next stall and told me about quitting his other band; dumpster-diving with Ed (sadly to no avail); stealing food from Tesco; sleeping on someone's floor that I'd never previously (nor since) met; and driving home the next morning, having missed the entire point of the trip and gotten it all the same.
The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was just a few hours ago. I don't go to gigs much anymore these days. Unfortunately, they were one of very few bands who had made me feel like I belonged over the years and, having grown weary of not fitting in even in a scene full of people who didn't fit into the norm either, I'd stopped bothering and buried myself in a corner of life, far away from most people I'd met on the scene. But tonight was the last chance I would ever get to see the band that gave me some of the best times of my life, simply by playing their songs. I went with a quiet nervousness about the night ahead. It had been so long. I decided to stand at the back and enjoy the night and make a quick exit afterward. And yet, when I saw the lads pick up their guitars and drumsticks, my legs took me to the front row for an hour and a half of singing, screaming, dancing, air-guitaring, air-drumming, nostalgia, happiness, excitement, awe and any other feeling I could possibly feel. This. Band. Changed. My. Life. And my favourite part, the thing about them that I always admired so fondly... Kidd Blunt is proud of what they've done. They're not afraid or embarrassed to admit that the band meant as much to them as we all knew it did. They poured their hearts and souls and thousands of hours and euros into their band and they were proud because they were in love too.
The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest events I'd ever been at. The last time was epic. It was raw and emotional and inspiring and amazing and that's why I'm writing. Because the band really did make me feel a kind of hope that I hadn't felt for years beforehand, maybe even ever. Hope that someday I can love something or someone and be as proud of it or them as the boys are of their band. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest occasions of my life. The songs will remain and the memories will never fade, for any of us who were lucky enough to peep our head in at some point over the last eleven years. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the happiest times I've ever had. Thank you lads, for so much. I'll miss you.
It was a couple of years after that first afternoon gig when I saw Kidd Blunt for the second time and I hated them. A mixture of dramatic teenage angst and jealousy had poisoned me against them for some reason and, on top of that, they didn't sound like NoFX anymore. In truth, they didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. In fact, I couldn't really hear them at all, so bad were the acoustics in the horrible Church Hall they were playing. It's funny to think about it in such clichéd terms but I'd be lying if I didn't say that it all changed for me with one simple, almost insignificant gesture. I was walking through town alone and saw Stephen, KB's drummer, coming my way. We'd had a few ill words towards each other on the internet (I believe he'd called me a cunt) and my stomach fell. I knew he recognised me and I knew that he knew that I recognised him. Politeness took hold and I nodded as we passed, expecting the same in return. Instead, I got a smile and a "How are ya!?" He was a nice guy.... Guess I can't hate his band out of jealousy anymore, I thought.
Screams filled the air and a guitar made noises that I'd never heard a guitar make before. The snare drum sounded like the fire of a Gatling gun that fired for far longer than a drummer should be able to hold a steady roll. And I sang along. Because after a few gigs of listening to this band, their songs became anthems. I didn't know the words but I fucking screamed them anyway. I was sweaty and drunk and falling into other people and being pushed into the stage and my voice was horse from doing the same thing two nights before. I was in love for the second time of my life, but this time, it was with a band. When I think about it now, I don't even remember how long ago that it was that I fell in love with this band. I don't care to remember either because I know that my life was made better and easier by their presence in it. Finally, after years of trying to find somewhere to fit in, something to relate to, some sort of release for the anger or hurt or happiness, I had found my self lost in time. Everything slipped away in the minutes and hours I racked up spent singing along to these songs, talking to Stephen about what the band was doing (or more often, girls) or chatting with Turlough about the lyrics and the gigs and whatever else (more likely, girls).
It's been seven years since the first time I saw the band. Seven years. And they were playing for four before even that. Over a decade of playing music together. I've never done ANYTHING for a decade! One time at a party, Turlough invited me to see them play in Galway the following week. I didn't see why not so off we went. When I think back over the 'punkest' times of my life, that gig in Galway was probably at the top of the list. Arriving after a 6 hour drive just in time to miss KB's set; standing inch deep in piss pouring cans for me and Turlough while he took a shit in the next stall and told me about quitting his other band; dumpster-diving with Ed (sadly to no avail); stealing food from Tesco; sleeping on someone's floor that I'd never previously (nor since) met; and driving home the next morning, having missed the entire point of the trip and gotten it all the same.
The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was just a few hours ago. I don't go to gigs much anymore these days. Unfortunately, they were one of very few bands who had made me feel like I belonged over the years and, having grown weary of not fitting in even in a scene full of people who didn't fit into the norm either, I'd stopped bothering and buried myself in a corner of life, far away from most people I'd met on the scene. But tonight was the last chance I would ever get to see the band that gave me some of the best times of my life, simply by playing their songs. I went with a quiet nervousness about the night ahead. It had been so long. I decided to stand at the back and enjoy the night and make a quick exit afterward. And yet, when I saw the lads pick up their guitars and drumsticks, my legs took me to the front row for an hour and a half of singing, screaming, dancing, air-guitaring, air-drumming, nostalgia, happiness, excitement, awe and any other feeling I could possibly feel. This. Band. Changed. My. Life. And my favourite part, the thing about them that I always admired so fondly... Kidd Blunt is proud of what they've done. They're not afraid or embarrassed to admit that the band meant as much to them as we all knew it did. They poured their hearts and souls and thousands of hours and euros into their band and they were proud because they were in love too.
The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest events I'd ever been at. The last time was epic. It was raw and emotional and inspiring and amazing and that's why I'm writing. Because the band really did make me feel a kind of hope that I hadn't felt for years beforehand, maybe even ever. Hope that someday I can love something or someone and be as proud of it or them as the boys are of their band. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the saddest occasions of my life. The songs will remain and the memories will never fade, for any of us who were lucky enough to peep our head in at some point over the last eleven years. The last time I saw Kidd Blunt was one of the happiest times I've ever had. Thank you lads, for so much. I'll miss you.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Gunpowder
Every Summer except this one, I go on pointless walks at night and have conversations about life and love and music and art and all the pretentious crap that I love and sit on walls and just enjoy the night air and the atmosphere. This year, I've either lost the friends I used to do that with or they've sold out their time to new girlfriends or boyfriends or jobs or laziness or some other stupid excuses for not wasting time like we used to love to. Or maybe everyone's just growing up.
Photosynthesis
I've been on a downer for about 4 years, feeling depressed pretty much constantly; always finding new ways to be sad, new things to be sad about and new ways to say no. And now it's all just kinda washed away. I feel really positive about almost everything; like a new man.
"Why?" she asked.
Because I realised, finally, that all the things that were getting me down were immaterial. The past is just the past; people who fuck you over just aren't worth it; spilled milk is just milk; and if you can't look to the future and have just a bit of hope, then there's no point in looking anywhere, or in being alive. Because a life half-led is a life fully wasted.
So i decided to do just that; I looked to the future with hope and with focus; identified aspects of my life and of my self that I was unhappy with and I set about changing them. And it set me on a journey that I'd never seen ahead of me before; a journey into the life that I could always have had and that I will now follow. Perhaps not the most profound of journeys and perhaps nothing special in the grand scheme. But undeniably a better road to be on than the one I had previously been travelling. The rest is up to choice, chance and a little bit of luck.
"Why?" she asked.
Because I realised, finally, that all the things that were getting me down were immaterial. The past is just the past; people who fuck you over just aren't worth it; spilled milk is just milk; and if you can't look to the future and have just a bit of hope, then there's no point in looking anywhere, or in being alive. Because a life half-led is a life fully wasted.
So i decided to do just that; I looked to the future with hope and with focus; identified aspects of my life and of my self that I was unhappy with and I set about changing them. And it set me on a journey that I'd never seen ahead of me before; a journey into the life that I could always have had and that I will now follow. Perhaps not the most profound of journeys and perhaps nothing special in the grand scheme. But undeniably a better road to be on than the one I had previously been travelling. The rest is up to choice, chance and a little bit of luck.
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