Reading Festival 2009

Labor Pains and Oreos

I spent the first half of my weekend with Ben.
I had a really nice time.
I don't know what I was expecting out of it at all, I kind of expected all sorts at the beginning, it was amazing to be excited again.
But something really hit me the beginning of the week, and I found it hard to correlate where all my thoughts were fitting in.
Getting confused about how I felt about putting myself at risk again, let alone how I could feel about anyone else.

I know that I am defintely still raw, and a weekend away isn't going to fix it.
As much as I made myself think that I was on a break and that I could relax, I was conscious the whole time that I didn't actually know Ben.
That is'nt to his detriment at all, I do feel as if there is something worthwhile there, and it was no way a wasted trip.

What I do know is that I can't do it right now.
I don't know what he is expecting, and that is the thing that screws me up the most. I know from the limited time we've spoken that he is probably not one of those who can recover at the drop of the hat. Then again, I think that about everyone, and am always horrified at the speed people can turn. Probably need to work on that.

I think he probably knew there was a distance between us. I hope he knew I wasn't fully there. I like him a lot, and I think there's a definite place in my life for him, I just don't really know what it is.

And to be honest, there's going to have to be a lot of effort (on my part, I presume seeing as I have the car) if anything was ever to happen. Bristol was a long, expensive drive and I am not prepared to do it on even a semi-regular basis. From a practical reasoning, it's dead before it began.

Maybe that's an excuse.
Maybe I need to stop writing a diary entry?! Jeez.

Imogen Heap - Ellipse

On first listen, this seems to be more of the same from the queen of Emo-Vocoder. But as the album progresses, I'm beginning to think that the album is an extreme definition of Heap. A stripped back, skin'n'bones translation of her last effort, although it seems like a backwards step for Heap in terms of production, it seems a natural progression in terms of where she is aiming to go next.

This will probably not garner any mainstream popularity like she aimed to achieve with the last album, and probably appropriately so, as spiltting the album into 'releasable' singles would ruin the overall flow and simplicity that the record gives off. Apart from 'Swoon' maybe. I would love something as bizzarely listenable as that to be released, and gain her some notoriety.

So by all means, she hasn't lost the magic or the spark, she's just toned it down a bit.
After all, looking at a supernova and a normal star from Earth are the same thing, aren't they?

Monster of the Week

I've recently become a bit obsessed with Godzilla.

Wonderful!

Nelly Furtado - Manos al Aire

She keeps testing me, does Nelly Furtado.
For the past 2 or so albums, I have had MASSIVE issues with her direction.

'Loose' I thought she was giving up everything her music stood for in the begininng, and selling out the Timbaland and the epitome of what R'n'B music should sound like. Due to this, I think this album had a really temporary shelf life, and will be forgotten a lot easier that her first two.

For 'Mi Plan' (whose name still makes me cringe a bit inside. Not sure why) I had the reverse of this feeling, where I thought she had gone so far back into her previous music, it was almost going to be too inaccessible to me due to a massive language barrier.

But with both of these issues, I got over it and realised that I still do actually love Nelly Furtado since the first day I bought 'Woah, Nelly!'
She's got such an infectious energy and almost a naieve spirit that make me feel like I could never turn my back on her music. And despite the language barrier this time around, the lyrics are still beautifully well crafted, but instantly accessible.

Until she does a drum'n'bass concept album about sacrificing elephants.
I really love elephants.

Tú, que pierdes el control
Hablando en alta voz
Hieres mi corazón
Yo, tratando de escuchar
No me puedo explicar
Qué extraña sensación.

Tú no me quieres entender
Y me mandas a callar diciéndome
No me debo sorprender
Porque así es la realidad
De nuestro amor
Y yo

No tengo armas para enfrentarte
Pongo mis manos, manos al aire
Sólo me importa amarte
En cuerpo y alma como era ayer

Tú que perdiste el control
Te dejaste llevar
Por la inseguridad
Yo que te he visto crecer
Me puedo imaginar
Que todo cambiará

Hoy aunque todo siga igual
Y me mandes a callar diciéndome
Que tienes que dominar
O será el final
Y yo no puedo así

You
When you lose your self-control
And you're yelling in that tone
You break my heart in two

And I
I try to hear you out
But it's hard to figure out
How to tell you how I feel

You don't want to understand me
You just want to shut me up
And tell me I should'nt be surprised
And that I should realise that this is our love
And I

I have no weapons
I surrender
I put my hands up
My hands up in the air
I only want to love you
With all that I have
Like yesterday

You
When you lose your upper hand
You get so insecure
And you hate the way it feels
I have seen you grown so much
But it's never enough
I tell myself you'll change

Today, we repeat the same game
You tell me to shut up again
Make it clear that if you had your way
I'd have no say
And I can't live this way

This one

This one is fast becoming a main feature this month.
Stop being so good, or I will stop writing about everything else in the world.




Actually very happy with him being here.
I don't want to forget how good he has been for me this week.
Even if I forget WHY the week was so shit,
hopefully I will remember what made it more bearable.

A further note

This picture pretty much encapsulates what I was trying to say previously.



FIERCE.

Florence and the Machine - Drumming Song

Amazing video.
Catapulted her from nice, folky twinkler with a good set of pipes to a
FULL-ON CRAZY POPSTAR.

I love it when that happens.





'I run to the river
And dive straight in
I pray that the water
Will drown out the din.'

Things to do with Ben Brewer

I have a feeling this list will get very long.
Not neccessarily in this order

1. Do an Amy Winehouse drop-in on him (aka. BEEEEEEEEENNNN)
2. Have a 'Ghosts' listening party
3. Learn a Beyonce dance
4. Cook something by Sandra Lee
5. Video cooking something by Sandra Lee, and send it to her
6. 'Cocktail Time'
7. Make Paula Deen's donut burger
8. Do not eat Paula Deen's donut burger
9. Get him to play me more classical music
10. Replay the Clock Tower games
11. Do Crystal Meth
12. Have a Lady Saw track-by-trac review evening. With wine and cheese.
13. Watch Ben's porno
14. Watch Pamela Anderson-Lee's porno
15. Compare and contrast
16. Gay Nude Life Modelling (Prawn)
17. American Apparel
18. Learn Spanish from Nelly Furtado
19. Carmit Bachar face-off

Ben's Assignment

Paula's Tale



An original composition by James Gearing

Paula gazed out of the window, looking absent-mindedly on the world she had ruined.
The grass was dead, the buildings were rubble, street lights blinked on and off at random intervals, and copies of 'Straight Up' littered the pavement.

She had no idea her 2009 comeback would bring about the apocalypse, but looking back on it, she wouldn't have it any other way. It was her time to shine again, and she would NEVER let the fire inside of her go out. She was a star, even if there was no-one left in the world to care.

She turned away from the window, took a deep breath, and turned on the radio. The familiar chord progression of 'Opposites Attract' ran through her dormant appartment. It was all they played nowadays, since she set the local radio station on a loop. It was nice, thinking she was number 1 again. She was always number 1 though really, wasn't she? Paula was always number 1 to Paula. Paula loved Paula, it was a great performance.

A crackle reverberated through the room, causing Paula's already-twitching eye to spasm uncontrollably. The meds would only hold out for so long. The crackle was replaced by a shrill squeal, and then... No. It couldn't be. Words?!

'I'M CALLING YOU OUT, PAULA ABDUL! YOU MAY HAVE ENDED THE WORLD, BUT I'M STILL HERE!'

She couldn't believe it. DIOGUARDI. How did she survive? Probably her lean, lizard-like physique and habit for eating nothing but dust and drinking nothing but air. Bitch.

'I KNOW YOU ARE HERE PAULA ABDUL! COME OUT AND FACE ME YOU WHORE!'

Paula shrank back. Kara was never one to mince her words. And words like that hurt. Critics slinging mud at her was Paula's one vice, the one thing that broke her down day after day. She was used to the safety of the obliterated world; no-one to critique her, no one to care if she went out in lime green and pink, no-one to slam her for miming at a singing competition. But Kara's words hit her like a knife in the back. A sexy knife.

She slowly backed away from the window, suddenly very self conscious. But in doing so caught her feet on her full-length neon-yellow caftan and came crashing to the floor, bringing the entire contents of her stolen-award shelf to the ground with her.

'I HEAR YOU PAULA! DON'T THINK I CAN'T HEAR YOU!'

Damnit. Why did she choose to live next door to the radio station where she set up the broadcast?! Bad planning, Paula. BAD BAD PAULA.
The floor started to shake. Paula scrambled over to her bed, and grabbed one of many make-up smeared bedsheets. Now there was no-one to apply and remove for her, like in the 'Idol' days, a girl had to look after herself. And sometimes a girl forgot, and slept with a full face on. Such was the tragedy of post-apocalyptic Paula.

As she wrapped the greasy sheet around herself, she heard an almighty crash from down below. She rolled over to the window and peeked out. There she was. Dioguardi, riding the helm of an enormous yellow dump truck. She had come for vengeance, and she meant business.

'I SEE YOU PAULA. DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE YOU PEEKIN' YOU WHORE. YOU CAN'T HIDE BEHIND SIMON ANYMORE! YOU KILLED HIM PAULA ABDUL! YOU KILLED HIM WITH YOUR DELUDED DREAMS OF STARDOM! NOW NEITHER OF US CAN HAVE HIM!'

Paula shivered. There wasn't a moment that went by when she didn't think about Simon. His stout, flat hair, his pearly grin, his red red face. She loved him. She missed him. But she had to sacrifice him, for the good of her career. Hollywood was dog-eat-dog, and he was just another poodle on the menu. She gritted her teeth.

'Fuck you, Kara.'
'SPEAK UP YOU FAT WHORE!'
'I SAID FUCK YOU, YOU SLUT!'
'THAT'S MORE LIKE IT! FIGHTING TALK!'

Kara revved the digger and slammed it into the creaking timbers of Paula's building. Before she knew it, Abdul was flung out of the window and landed in a crumpled mess in the street. She lifted her head just in time to see Kara's limber frame towering above her, like a titty scarecrow. A diamonte unicorn glistened on her skinny-fit tee. She always dressed like a teen, so cool and snappy. But Paula knew the truth. She knew Dioguardi's secret. Every night, before the Idol boot-off finale, Kara would bathe in the blood of a previous top-ten finalist. It kept her young, svelte and perky.

It made Paula sick. The apocalypse was one thing, but sacrificing contestants was against competition rules. Dioguardi's foot was raised above her head now. Paula had no fight left, she would have to succumb to the blood-ritual-induced beast-woman. Her greasy bedsheet flapped in the wind. Her caftan was ripped all over, exposing wads of flabby flesh. Paula was in bad shape, now all of the world's food was up for grabs.

Suddenly, both women were lifted clean off the ground. An apocalyptic hurricane tore through the street, flinging the pair round and round. Claws ripped at each other's weaves, clothes and skin, sometimes out of rage, sometimes out of sheer fear at being so high up in the air in such strong winds. Both women were screaming at the top of the lungs (although Paula sounded more like a birthing hippo, after losing all tone and vocal ability over the apocalypse years). Kara's glistening unicorn tee was like a target, forcing Paula to carry on ripping and shredding and clawing, desperately trying to regain her place in the word.

SHE WOULD BE RELEVANT AGAIN.

Suddenly, it all went black. The women were slammmed into a massive, solid object. The HOLLYWOOD sign. Kara was impaled on a corner, the glitter of the unicorn being replaced by the dark, rosy pearl of blood. Lizard blood. Paula lay a broken woman at the foot of the 'W'. She looked up, and saw Dioguardi, dead and making a mess at the top of the 'O'.

'you gave... a great... performance.'
She panted, blinking away the dust.
'But I'm still.... number 1.'

And with that, Paula Abdul closed her eyes and died. A woman who had everything, had now caused the end of the world. And she was still number 1.
The familiar strains of 'Straight Up' echoed through the streets of LA from Paula FM, forever a reminder of a lost legend. She is at rest now.

Miike Snow - Silvia

This song already has it's attachments for me about this whole summer.
It's beautiful... I don't want it to lose it's shine.
I want it to be something in it's own right.
I hope it gets there.


Reach the city steps tonight
Following the power lines

Met a man barside
With eclipses for eyes
And you tell yourself you wont let them touch
Did I say too much did i say enough
I don't know Sylvia
I don't know Sylvia

Circle round the room still
Breaking my will

Know I can't have you here
Someone else on your skin

And it's all my fault for not getting off
And you made it start, can you make it stop?
You don't know Sylvia

Reach the city steps tonight
Following the power lines

And your skin is so white
Underneath the black night
And your voice calls
out for the Coup de grace
When the lights go out
will there be the face that I love?
Silvia
I don't know, Silvia
That I loved, Silvia