February 14th, 2005



Busy-mad weekend now over, officially. I'll get back to writing tomorrow night, but for now I finish the catching-up that I've been doing all night, trimming down the inbox (fucking half-meg attachments...) and finding the things I've missed.

The blister on top of my fucking foot isn't helping with much, it must be said.

In random news, Ion Storm Austin has closed its doors. While that surprised nobody after Spector et al left at the arse-end of last year, there's still officially fewer companies that allow real innovation in video games. Fuck.

Memories and nostalgia are battering at my head. Reading Kieron Gillen's latest post about his last walk around Bath, I can't help but remember how I never really gave Stafford a last walk. Or a last anything, really. But then again, that didn't really end as fall apart over a period of time. The four of us scattered for a placement year, then coming back together when things had changed. First Steve's girlfriend, then Matt heading off, the dissolution of identity that was my dissertation, a brief fling with a different set of insanities to my usual, then seeing Kris for the first time in too long... then back down and away and out. People drifting away. No chance to walk the town because the town had changed, as had I. No more angry storming down the Wolverhampton Road, punching hedges and walls with equal abandon. No more post-midnight wanderings, trying to get my head together. Things had changed, and I'd already left once. The final year in Stafford, like this last year and a half, proved to me that I can't ever go back. Not really. I can't turn the clock without having the clock turn me. It's just a fucker that I can't go back and clear the memories down now, file off the harsh edges and never again be stabbed in the heart for no good reason at five in the morning. Cauterise everything in my head. But that's useless when the social relationships have already bled themselves dry all over the shag carpeting of my mind.

Next time I leave. Then, I will.
  • Current Music
    Semisonic - Closing Time

What's in a date?

Great. That Day again. Where men and women either are made to feel like shit by the greeting card companies for not having anyone, or worse, are made to feel like shit for not doing enough.

Woo and yay.

I normally don't say much on V-day. I thought I had gone on at length about the concept before, but no. I was mistaken. The world has been spared my wrath. Surprisingly. However, this time it's different. I'm in a mood for memories and melancholia, partly through Kieron and partly through real life events. So I'm going to say some stuff. If you enjoy your pathetically hollow Hallmark day in all of its cuddly-teddy-and-hundreds-of-fucking-hearts way, stop reading here and tell me to fuck off in a comment[0].

The date has always been a cynical one for me. Knowing not to expect anything from the age where girls start to have meaning does that. High school through the sixth form the day meant nothing. Not even Singles Awareness Day, a horrible bit of reinforcement for the day invented not by single people but by couples so that their friends who were already playing the gooseberry weren't going to feel so left out. None of that. Just, y'know, another day. With lots of people being fucking stupid to one another. Girls and boys being together to spend money on perishables and tokens of affection that would, on any sane day, be burned.

Roll on the first year of university, and I'm not single. Properly not single, not the unrequited affections I've suffered with for the past couple of years as a bloke with a working dick. Of course, I head back to Hull to be with the Psycho Ex[1] for the day. TO the credit of alcohol and the healing power of other people, I can't remember much of it. I can remember that shortly afterwards, I was in the kitchen in halls with a sharp knife. It was not a good time for either of us. Less than two months later, we're apart.

I think that in the space of that year, my love-life sparked to lunatic levels. An insane rebound-thing with a girl in Seattle who vanished and turned up, months after I'd almost forgotten about her, in rehab. Fling with Becky, nothing more than talking into the night and accepting that we were both on a rebound and would be no good for each other. Stella, With whom there was more and less, oh so briefly.

Roll on the next V-day and I'm not single. Properly not single. Int he span between the Psycho Ex and here I've opened myself to more girls than I have in my whole life. And here I am with someone, someone who I care about. The same through Germany, through the last year of my degree and then on, into the second V-day spent out of education, in the real world I only half accept and half want to run away from until I can run no more.

But more than anything, I've come to realise that it's just a day. A cynical manipulation that's promoted by reacting against as much as going along with. It's not had anything to do with my love life or bank account. It's a fucking day. It means nothing. It's not an excuse for bitterness and cynicism. That's my life and my head right now. It's not an excuse to celebrate love. If you have it, you should celebrate it whenever you want to, not on some arbitrary date.

Appreciate what you have. If you're with someone, you might not be. But do that all the time. Don't do it on one fucking day. If you're not with someone today, who gives a fuck? It's more memories, nothing more. You could have loved $DEITY knows how many times in the three hundred and sixty four days beforehand, yet today you're made to feel like shit.

And if you're not with someone, at least you're not with a psycho.

I keep meaning to write Shattered City. But you'll get more of this from me as well. Deal with it, you bastards.

[0]: Yeah. Give me a target. Please.
[1]: To her credit, it wasn't her fault she was mad[2].
[2]: Not something I'm going to go into with more than about three people. Don't ask.
  • Current Music
    The Coral - Dreaming Of You