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You thought I was dreaming of you...
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| (Evening; Flat in Glasgow) |
[14 Jul 2007|06:18pm] |
I cycled around this morning. The city is warm and wet, sweet like rot. I called up John to see if he wanted a drink at the pub. Unfortunately for me, he’s too busy with the band.
Now I’m lying on my back, stretched across the carpet with a bottle of cheap wine in my hand, trying to cool down. No luck. Maybe I should pick up my guitar…
I feel lethargic. The wine certainly isn’t helping.
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| (Early morning; Flat in Glasgow) |
[27 Jun 2007|10:00am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 discontent |
] |
There's nothing more disruptive to a morning than discovering an empty milk carton.
So, do I continue to laze about, or do I get milk?
...Or do I get Paul to go out and get the milk?
Decisions, decisions...
A missing Paul and dry cereal are limiting my options.
A trip to the store it is. Life is so exciting.
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[13 Jan 2007|03:52pm] |
That's the last time I ever try screaming again.
One of my roommates told me her friend needed a singer for their band--someone who could really scream. Apparently she overheard me having a 'conversation' on the phone with my mother a couple nights ago--I think the whole block probably heard, really--and thought I would be a good fit.
I'm not really sure how to take that, but she convinced me to go today and see them. They were pretty nice, I guess. All in their late twenties, but I'm used to being around older men. It just felt a bit awkward trying to pretend I knew what I was doing with them playing. I'm not very charismatic, you know. Especially when I have to try and pretend I want to yell at someone. And they wanted me to do things in Russian, which I'm trying my best not to do. I don't like people asking me to speak it for them, it feels like I'm on display. I don't really think they thought I was very good, but one of them gave me his number. Gee, thanks.
All in all, a very weird day. And now my throat is killing me. I just hope I didn't do any permanent damage. Time to hit the nearest cafe for some chamomile tea...
It's ram packed inside, but I manage to find a seat at a small table just as a couple is leaving. Which leaves me open to having someone sit down across from me, but maybe if I just glare at everyone...
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[21 Dec 2006|03:41pm] |
I received a call last week from my college tutors, a local gallery wants to use some of my art pieces in an exhibition.
It's tonight, it's come round fast. I'm terrified. Glenns been with me, helping me move canvases all day. Now I've changed into some smart clothes and I'm clutching a glass of champagne as imposing figures start to enter the gallery.
I'm not ready for this, my work is rubbish compared to the other artists here. They look more professional too.
I left a message for Paul to tell him. I don't know why after what happened the last time we met. He probably won't come. And that's ok. The fewer people that see this the better really, it's bound to be a disaster.
*backs into a corner without realising and looks around for Pete*
-He said he'd be here, where is he? And where the hell has Glenn disappered to?-
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[24 Nov 2006|02:42pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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lonely |
] |
I heft my bag over my shoulder and step onto the tube. I'm done with classes for the day and have nothing else to do but head home and watch the telly, maybe send out for Chinese. I really feel like having a movie night, but all my friends are busy with work and assignments. I should probably be doing my coursework as well, but I have the night off work and I really just feel like relaxing.
There's no room to sit, so I stand next to one of the poles, watching the Clockwork Orange continue to fill up.
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[11 Nov 2006|02:34pm] |
| [ |
music |
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Greek Song, Rufus Wainwright |
] |
It's a slow day at the shop and the weather is starting to really get cold, so my manager decided to blast the heat today. It's pretty damn toasty so I've stripped off all my protective layers of coats and jumpers so that I don't die of heatstroke as I re-stock and organize the shop. It's shocking how messy everything is, you'd think I was the only one here who knew their alphabet. Who on earth puts Charlotte Gainsbourg in next to The Zombies?
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[27 Sep 2006|09:44pm] |
I'm round Paul's flat, standing outside his door and I realise that I haven't really thought this through. I shouldn't be here and I definitely should not have my necklace back on, nor should I have his in my hand.
But I can't do it. I can't pretend that they're meaningless, that we had nothing. So I'm here to apologise, if he'll let me. My life is too screwed up to lose Paul's friendship, I need him. There’s too much crap going on with me and Pete and Glenn to have this fucked up as well. So..
*takes a deep breath and knocks softly on the wood of the door*
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[19 Sep 2006|05:40pm] |
So..Glenn and I are finally getting out of rehab today. Pete said he'd be here to get me but he's not.
*presses his forehead to the glass and stares out the window*
I don't know what's happening though, if I'm going home to Pete or away on holiday with Glenn as we originally planned before he did, well what he did to his wrist.
*sighs and peeks up at the air vent*
"What's the time Glenn?"
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[17 Sep 2006|09:43pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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cold |
] |
Ever since the whole fiasco with Nick, I've been a bit distant. I don't like what I did to Nick, and I don't know what I was thinking when I did it. But it truly fucked up our relationship. For good.
Right now, I'm sat in a Starbucks Coffee house on a street in Glasgow. I'm not entirely sure what street, because I don't know Glasgow that well but I'm here. And it's cold. I'm wearing a neckerchief I bought in a pound shop. It's warm on my neck. It's a weird feeling being cold all over my body apart from my neck. My latte isn't warming me up much, either. I feel numb, infact.
The door to the café opens, but I don't bother to look at who has just walked in. I'm more focused on my chocolate twist which doesn't seem to be helping my extreme hunger...
It's only when I hear his voice that I realize who has just walked in. And it scares me to know we're in the same room together...
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[14 Sep 2006|09:09pm] |
When I came home Michael wasn’t there.
I don’t know where he’s at, but I know he’s probably buggered off to some pub to get smashed. I can’t help feeling like it’s all my fault, and it probably is, but I have more important things to worry about. It just hit me a few days ago that since I kicked out Andy I now need someone else to move in and pay the rent, or else we’re going to get kicked out soon; me and Michael’s pay together can’t suffice forever. I’m going back into town to go and post more signs up for the flat, but I think I’ll stop at the café first, if Michael finds out I’m haven’t been eating lately he’ll have a fit.
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[13 Sep 2006|11:01am] |
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mood |
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cold |
] |
*Turns over and trys to comfy on the hard floor* Well it's over between me and Bob again. I ended it this time because it was so obvious that it wasnt working, and the way we where carrying on was hurting the girls. I know Bob will be happy once he excepts all this and goes back to Pete so he can be with Jayne and Frances, being a dad is what makes him content.
What am i going to do now? I have no idea, i'v been sleeping on a friends bedroom floor so at least i'm not lonely and i'v found some proper modleing work. It means nothing without Bob though but at least i can take a little comfort in the fact that Bob is happy now.
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[08 Sep 2006|09:21pm] |
I don't like bars, as a rule. There's just something upsetting about drinking lukewarm beer in a dirty, shoddily lit hole, with people you don't know, and don't want to know.
But, still, I'm sitting here, on a stool, watching the people around me. I'm sipping a beer that I don't like, and staring at people I wouldn't ever really want to talk to.
And it's not that I don't like people. I do. It's just, I've always been better at watching them than interacting with them. And that's why I'm here in Glasgow.
I'm writing a book. I wholly plan on being famous one day, whether it's for studying a lesser-known subculture, or for failing miserably whilst trying to do so.
I was told, once, that you have to write what you know. I plan to get to know these people very well. I plan to get to know their lives very well. To do that, I'll have to live it.
Well, this'll be interesting.
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[06 Sep 2006|08:10pm] |
That fucking prick Huntley just thumped me and I didn’t even fight back. Jesus you would have thought I’d have learnt to defend myself by now.
So this is it, I swear I will not see Paul again. Not if it’s just going to cause trouble.
Shit, my lip is sore.
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[31 Aug 2006|09:24pm] |
*Balancing the two pizza boxes on one hand, I jiggle my key in the lock until it finally opens and I can edge my way inside, trying not to drop the liter of orange soda under my other arm.* Nick? A--uh, Vince? Anybody home? I've got dinner.
*I toe off my boots and go into the living room to set the pizza down on the dinky little coffee table, seeing as the kitchen is currently a disaster zone with phonebooks and unpaid bills and shit strewn across the counters (despite having cleaned it two days ago). Nick is sitting there in the middle of the floor, all alone. I stop short, cocking my head a little.*
Chairs just not doing it for you anymore?
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| Oh God, where's the fizzy-nice? |
[01 Sep 2006|12:04am] |
Oooh God... My head... *He grabs his head in a vain attempt to stop the pounding.* I know how to cure a headache... *He pads into the kitchen, his stripy pyjama bottoms slipping off his hips slightly.* Damn trousers...
*He reaches up for a bottle of wine and pops the cork out of it and pours it shakily into a Starbucks cup,* Wine! *He takes a long indulging sip and leans against the kitchen counter.* Aaah... That's so good. It's like an orgasm.
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[27 Aug 2006|04:30pm] |
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*gets up from the bed in the middle of the night, going over to his dresser and fumbling through drawers. After not finding what he wants, distressed and agitated, he goes into the kitchen to have a glass of wine while Michael’s asleep, startling when he spots Vince on the couch, already nursing a glass* You’ve sure become comfortable in this flat quickly.
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[23 Aug 2006|10:39pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 worried |
] |
I'm worried. I have three things to tell Bob, and he's not going to like any of them. But he counts on me to communicate with him, that's the one thing I can give him that Glenn or Pete don't. So I'll do it no matter how hard it is.
The first thing is regarding my test results from the clinic. Because of my history they did a really thorough blood test. I got a call this morning after Bob had already left from school, so I went down there alone. I was terribly nervous because I knew it must be bad news or else they'd have just told me over the phone. And it was, but not quite what I expected. I was worried they'd tell me I had HIV or something but it's not that bad at least. I have Hepatitis C, which is only spread by blood. So I got it either from the time this one bloke whipped me until I bled and then shagged me, if he had a cut somewhere, or from one of the times I got in a fight with one of the other rentboys. (Sometimes fights would start because someone would think I was trying to "steal" one of their regular customers. Which I never did, but customers don't want to wait around if their usual boy isn't at the street corner. They'll take whoever's available, and sometimes that was me.)
So at least it's not something I can spread to anyone else through normal sex. But I'm going to have to go to the clinic every week for 3 to 6 months to have injections of interferon and take pills every day. Otherwise my liver could be damaged. They said the treatment will probably make me feel ill and weak. Like I need to be any weaker, shite.
The second thing is I think Bob should probably know about Glenn kissing me. I mean, a little kiss is one thing but there was something behind it, he kept touching me. I think he would have gone a lot further if I hadn't been so uncomfortable. And if he could do that with me he could do that with anybody. I don't want Bob getting hurt by him again.
The third thing is me and Alex. Fuck, I wasn't expecting that. Bob warned me not to get involved with him, but...he's not the Alex I once knew. Something about it just felt right, even though we were both somewhat drunk. I'm not sure where it's going from here but I need to tell Bob before he hears it from someone else.
As if I wasn't nervous enough, I also meet the guys in the Yummy Fur tonight. I may be their new drummer. It's exciting but scary as well. I hope we get on alright.
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| Oh, so... This is my new house? |
[22 Aug 2006|01:02pm] |
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*He rounds the corner, holding out a slip of paper infront of him with directions to the house. Studtying the houses until he finds the right one. He knocks the door and rings the doorbell just for fun. Looking bored with his blonde hair flopping over his eyes and his dark skin radiating in the sunlight, sucking on a lollipop waiting for the door to open. I hope I've got the right place...*
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| And so... I find myself wandering down the streets of North London... |
[21 Aug 2006|01:24am] |
So, here I am... Wandering down the streets of North London... I've not been back in England two hours and I'm already fucking lost, *He looks up at a sign post which directs him to Starbucks coffee house. He follows the sign to the café and walks inside.*
It's been so long since I've even stepped foot in a coffee house... *He takes in a deep breath of the coffee scent and sits down on one of the big plushy sofas, Indian-Style. He gazes around, until he spots a notice.*
"Nicholas and Michael are looking for a flat mate to help share the rent pay. Small, three bedroomed apartment in North London, call..."
*He looks at it once more before scribbling down the number and pulling out his battered mobile phone, I need somewhere to live so it's worth a try.... He dials the number and waits. He accompanies the waiting by ordering a coffee and sitting back.*
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[17 Aug 2006|09:11pm] |
I sit down heavily in the seat behind the counter at Red Light Records, sighing. Finally, renovation is complete. Or as much of it as I can be useful for. One busted hand, numerous aches and pains, and plenty of dust up the nose later, I'm finally free. Let the big, brawny construction workers do their part, I'm just the wee skinny lad with the ponytail that gets to shuffle boxes of cds out of the way while they handle the powertools. I caught one of them repeatedly staring at my arse yesterday, but I've never gone for bears. Blegh.
As I fiddle with a biro and wait for a customer to brave the 'pardon all the dust and shit, we're fixing up (again)' signs, I contemplate the past few days. Seems like my past is coming back to catch up with me. Sure, some parts of it never really left... Nick, Andy. But after catching up with Jeremy again, having ridiculously good sex, and thinking about Paul for the first time in ages, I suddenly have a case of... nostalgia, maybe?
I should call him up, Paul. I told Jeremy we ought to get together again on Friday night. I'll see if Nick wants to come. Should be a good time, hopefully.
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