Well Done, Ant. Well Done.

I may have Tumblr, but

I hope to never neglet you, blogspot. You so beautiful. Go buy yourself somethin' nice, 'kay?

Okay :).

It's so strange that the things that make you the happiest you've ever been are the exact things that can make you more upset than you could imagine.

Somehow i don't think I'll be needing a palm-reading anytime soon.

I'll Always remember the humid September,

where inside my heart felt so cold.

Well, that's a lie. I was sure I'd find a new peace of mind, to slow down the time

but

What If i just didn't want to?

'Cause hating the change enhances the strange and surely remains to quicken the pain (in the long run)

But for the moment, the trouble's over - I feel safe.

Away from the struggle, the hurt and the strain. The Juxtaposition - the pleasure; the pain.

It ends with a kiss.

Whilst cliché, it was the only way for it to happen; an influx of pain and pleasure

And whilst I don't understand "Quick and painless" I could do nothing but draw it out longer.

I wish not to leave you; this scene; these stains of what was.

Or What is.

But, I kid. As to kid, for me, is to sustain, that which is guised with hypocratic surface.

But, I wish not to deem myself a martyr. Or one who is indeed belittled or deserving of empathetic touch.

Empathy is wasted, for I em pathetic.

The feelings that crush had been gone for so long, but have soon returned - albeit in a different form.

Confusion leads to pain followed shortly by regret, the circle of my mind continues to spin on its small, sharp axis.

I know not whether to dread, or to forsee simplicity in your presence; however my mind is perplexed nontheless.

Gibberings of the insane; it may be mis-communicated. Or the truth that I wish not to face.

Why don't you just go paint or write a song about it, you melodramatic, pretentious fuck.

i'm guessing that this is a feeling that will always be there. even if subtly.

i miss you already.

I have a new found love for Emin and her work:

"The drawing has the innocence of a young girl staring out beyond the picture. It makes me want to jump into the paper, grab hold of the girl - who is me - and shake her and tell her everything is going to be all right. I wonder if drawings can be the imprints of our souls? Maybe some drawings existed before they were actually made, and they just float around in the ether like ghosts, waiting to appear on paper.

INSPIRING, NO?!

Tracey Emin's "Ripped Up" -

Moved me so much more than words could express. Truely the matter of nightmares.

Part of her "Abortion" series - through which she attempts to depict her abortion from memory. Haunting.

I NEVER KNEW I COULD CRY THAT FUCKING MUCH.

I've figured out a surprisingly effective form of calming oneself down and/or boosting your spirit; even if just temporarily.

Simply take some Blu-Tack, roll it into a ball and press your thumb firmly into it, leaving the mark of your thumb-print.

I find It is an easy way to affirm your importance in the world - whilst your thumb-print may be subtle or not easy to see, be assured that it is there. As is your imprint on the world. You are much more important you will ever imagine.

Smile; time should never be wasted.

Text language - despite becoming increasingly more and more detatched from reality/the spoken word still affects me deeply when I receive texts such as this one from my Father simply saying

"Luv u guys."

Much more powerful than you could imagine, one reckons.

The word "Martyr" should never be put in a self-analytical kind of way twice on one person's blog.

Shit. I fucking wrote it twice, didn't I?

Literally at the point that I don't want this summer to end.

The most sickening thing is; despite the poignancy of "Art is Dead" I still want my art to be appreciated. It's a painful cycle.

Fucking Martyr.

Why do I seem to have a strange interest/attraction toward mental illnesses/disorders?

Wait a minute, you don't know. You're the internet.

Never let heaven act as an incentive not to live.

I am massively proud that my Mum has always told me I'm like Norman Wisdom.

Yes, It relates mainly to the fact that I am a clumsy little oik, but the talent of this man is truly astounding. And for that I am in insurmountable awe.

Problems are objective.

There are some things that really make you proud to be alive and who you are.

I WILL be a motivated and productive young boy during the summer.

Just you watch.

Yeah. That's right, internet. I'll show you.

You know Acne medication will do something mighty powerful

When it smells like fucking Deep-heat.

He wanks in the sink

He wanks in the si-iiink

I swear i must enjoy making myself feel guilty. It's a weird subconscious compulsion i seem to have.

"Oh my God. I've got some fucking jaffa cakes in my coat pocket!"

 

Haiku's would be nice
If they weren't so fucking hard
But they are. So, yeah.

A haiku about moths 
 
Moths are quite humble
I tried to get his picture
He just shyed away

"An eye for an eye"?

But, I thought "Two wrongs don't make a right"

I feel so humbled and settled tonight.

I'm in a good place.

Emoticons on a blog seem innapropriate. Hm. Interesting indeed.

Words don't express my admiration of this guy

Crumbling Stories

 

And who said sobriety isn't fun?

I swear it must be considered 'human' to torture yourself...

I love the speculation as to what 'humanity' is; It's a question with a million answers. I like those questions. Those questions never fail to perplex

Which is cool.

DEFINTELY finding myself awake and on the internet just because.

Fail.

Sandman's a-callin'.

It's weird;

It seems almost inappropriate to not post poignant and/or thought-provoking things on a blog that is, essentially an online diary..

lol. irony.

"My interest is in experience that is wordless and silent, and in the fact that this experience can be expressed for me in art which is also wordless and silent."

 Oh, Agnes. You humble me, so.

I served an old man at work today who - whislt struggling a little with his change, casually and very calmly told me that he's been having trouble ever since he lost his wife. He was a gentle Welsh man who was friendly and a little shaky. I wanted to look after him (for want of better words) or help out, but I wouldn't even know where to begin. Really shows the true, undying power of love and the true effects of "broken heart syndrome"

Moving.

People need to calm the FUCK down and just be happy.

Insightful sonofabitch, aren't I? :|

I take everything back.

Andy Riley replied to me.

I am a happy bunny. (Get it? ;D)

Until you get Twitter, you will never know the pain of not being replied to by celebrities you tweet at.

I would've said 'tweet to', but in all honesty it seems a more forceful act than that.

"REPLY TO ME YOU FAMOUS SHIT!"

Attraction's a weird and interesting thing, isn't it?

We can't decide it and we can't force it, but more often than not it's the thing you don't want to think about that your mind is most attracted to.

A more philosophical look at the fact that i seem to like crazy girls.

1 + 1 = 3

It's weird how starting up new accounts on things/having a fresh start can get you really excited about the silliest things.

 Also, it's amazing how it's sometimes impossible to un-see things;

A Blog AND Twitter in two days?!


Mann, am I internetz.

Becoming increasingly obsessed with this song.

Hauntingly beautiful

Everyone is a genius in their own right:

"It would be spiteful 

To put jellyfish in a trifle"

  K.P.

 

 

The Bandwagon

I guess It could be said that starting a blog in itself is ad hearing to the cliché of 'angsty teens'.
And utilising Bold and Regular type juxtaposed on the title was not an original choice, despite it being aesthetically pleasing.

But, I've decided It would be a simple and effective form of expression for me and can't wait to start.


Well, I now look like a self-righteous twunt.