Things go together better than others.

Like manic depression and hyper sexuality.


Some big news took place this week. The club I have been attending since the baby like age of eighteen, is closing down.
To the naked eye, a run-down hovel. To the seasoned youths of Luton, a glittering path to vodka shots, lots and lots of beer and cider; where there's music and dancing til the early hours, seedy happenings and many memories which are best left in the unearthed file entitled 'what happens in the edge, stays in the edge.'


It can be summed up with empty bottles, swelling hearts, lightweight feet and troubled minds. For most, it is the scene of many crazy choices, inane and pretentious ramblings and the most fun in the whole world. A place for reckless and youthful behaviour only, I will be visiting for the last time tonight and I will be toasting to very good friends and memories and to being twenty one. Not Eighteen.

Beauty comes to those who have been waiting..

For something bigger than themselves...



I graduated last week; and that night I got drunk and stayed up until the early hours writing a nice blog post, which I subsequently lost in a drunken state of delirium.

The day of graduation was very pleasant. Although sitting down with my housemates once everything had settled was probably the nicest thing. I had awoken very early that morning in order to iron my clothes and take my shoes to be re-heeled by a nice cobbler. Everyone's parents arrived and there was a lot of photo taking and queuing. I ruined most of the photographs because I was suffering from a cold and so had a red nose and blurry eyes in 94% of the shots.


That night me and my friends did not attend the spectacle of the grad ball, opting instead to drink beer and smoke cigarettes with the only company any of us cared for. The feeling of the eve was that of celebration, however it was tinged with the sadness of leaving and the inevitable future struggle of the unknown.


The way I think about my future can be summed up like this:

"to live life in a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph."

(taken from a book I'm reading, which I relate to all too well, called 'One Day' by David Nicholls.)

I spoke to a handful of people who were content with their proposed image of the near future; a marital-like home with their long-term boyfriends, an OK 9-5 and a nice sit down in the evenings. A middle of the road existance is fine for the people who lack the energy to strive or creative intellegence to escape.
What I appriciated more was the honesty of my fellow graduates who admitted they didn't know what they wanted, all they knew is that they wanted to escape and refused to settle. I like that, aspirations for a totally 'cool' and exciting existence throughout their 20s if nothing else.

They'd Say That's OK...

As long as we can celebrate.


"If you are smitten with obsession then you will survive and the world will be larger for it… If not, you might simply make a living or simply go broke." Larry Fink. (these photos are his)






Graduation's comming up, so there will be lots to celebrate, but once it's over some people are going to settle for average. I'm not.
Are you?

I've Been Following You For Blocks

And I wish that you'd stop and tell me your name..

Back in Luton... and a few days I got jeered at by a group of children for wearing 'boys' shoes. It brought back painful memories from the last time I owned a pair of brogues. I was in primary school and it was the first day back after the summer holidays. I was feeling proud of my new uniform and especially my brand new, black patent brogues. I had chosen them myself from John Lewis and my Mum complimented them enormously. The children at school didn't. I probably cried about it, but in time I got over it.

Just over a week in Luton and I'm already itching to leave. I could indulge in 'Flâneur'-ing about the place. According to wikipedia it means 'a person who walks the city to experience it.' Whilst in Luton I don't think it would do me any good. I fear it would resign me to the life of a misanthropist, a fate which I am rightfully terrified of. In any event, a flying trip to east London has made me mournfully tired of Luton, leaving me with itchy bones and in a permanent state of entrapment. Never the less, i have been thinking a lot about the comming months and how I intend to spend my life as a graduate... a nice kick in the arse.

I wrote my name in your book..

Only God Knows Why.

So, this begins my new summer resolution to post more.

I have been living half in Luton, half in Norwich for the past few weeks. Although a part of me is deeply shamed to enjoy Luton as much as I do.. it's a nice change. I like the way Luton doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is. Unlike Norwich, which conceals it's boring state behind a shroud of twee pleasantness.

Norwich has been great to me for the past three years...but a natural alteration in my perspective of it has occurred, so now I'm fairly certain that I'm done here.

These feelings have been fuelled, perhaps created by, the sudden, uncomfortable action of 'shit hitting the fan.' My Dr Zhivago discretion of a month ago has returned to plague my day. Not wanting to give too much away... I love Dr Zhivago but hate the way he comes off so well despite his constant infidelity. His doting wife comes off as such a pathetic and pitiful character, not without reason of course, she's painfully desperate. If you know the story of Dr Z.. then read between the lines, if you don't... you can guess. I know I'm being cruel and inviting terrible karma.. but there are few things I can't stand. One of those things is people who like to lie down in life. I would like to tell them to grow a spine and/or a pair of balls and stop simpering.

'Love Lost'

I don't normally direct my many readers to outside links because I don't want people to stray from my insightful musings and delightful deliberations... but this is too good. My tumblr has been littered with his pictures today...

The man in question: Paul Barbera. His series, 'Love Lost,' documents his travels and the ladies he meets. Based on the photos, I'm sure this is more than a meeting of friends because the photos are hot. Really hot.





The series makes me want to swan about in my underwear and t-shirts, occasionally look pensive and stretch every so often. I also love the houses these women live in. Jesus, it's all so achingly cool.

please tell us why...

you had to hide away for so long..

I have finished my dissertation now. For the past two weeks I've been chained to my desk... Getting to uni at about 9am and sitting in front of my computer, surrounded by books, until about 7pm meant that my brain was mush by the end of the day. Me and G had some very silly walks home from campus. Of course, it wasn't all fun and games.. the week wouldn't have been complete without some tears the night before the deadline. There was panic, there was crying, there were headaches. But it all got done.


Having a coffee with G whilst our dissertations were safely being bound in the library was such a nice feeling. There was celebrating and treats for the rest of the week...


All of it has been rather stressful. After a couple of heavy nights and days of wandering around town without any direction.... my brain is still scrambled. I can't focus on anything. I want to carry on running about the place in a frantic rush. So now it's the end of the week, and i still can't remember how to breathe slowly again. There's been butterflies under my skin for too long now, getting rid of them is proving tricky.
So, for the next few days, I intend to get a few things straightened out... maybe get my feet back on the ground. Just for a little while though.