Yesterday I culturally enriched myself and went along to Gloucester's Guildhall Underground festival, which wa brilliant. Unfortunately you will all have to wait for the photos to get developed before I show you, however I will leave with some music tracks which were featured yesterday from the lovely lads playing.
1. Swim Deep - King City
Even though claiming themselves to be a little hungover that evening they were glorious, King City was beautifully played and it was a real adrenalin rush to be smiled and pointed at by the lead singer for noticing me in the front row. After their gig I performed my duties as an obsessed fangirl and waited for them to pack up and have a drink so I could have some snaps with them which I'm excited about seeing soon.
2.B∆STILLE -Of The Night
As the final act of the night these lads were pretty rad, they created a fantastic atmosphere and had a nice sound which differed from that typical Indie boy band image, mixing their music with some electronica. Although it was safe to say by the time they came on at 10 I was pretty zonked and after hearing eight other indie boy bands I felt like going a little crazy.
3. Last Dinosaurs - Honolulu
Ah these Australian beauties were very enchanting, I found their image and their sound all very endearing. They took a nice turn on the overridden English Indie boy band look and were just lovely to be frank. I wil definately be buying their album when it comes out in a week. Even though they do have slight generic influences it's nice chilling out music.
4. PEACE - Bloodshake
These guys were joyfully playing whilst I was waiting for Swim Deep and they sounded brilliant live, I feel a little bad for not fully appreciating their music, but from what I remember they were r8 good...
5. The Struts - I Just Know
Oh wow, these eccentric laddies. At first I didn't know whether to take their image and music seriously, but after a while I warmed up to their incredibly wild personalities! They put on an amazing set, and although their music isn't my style I still appreciate it.
It's inevitable to feel slightly lonely at times. I haven't had this feeling in a long time, and no matter how many people I surround myself with in the day going home to no-one but myself (and my parents) is beginning to upset me slightly. I found it hard today to say goodbye to my friends after walking home and even though I'm only my third week into A-levels I miss the easy going life I had in the summer, I just suddenly realised how much time of my life will be consumed by work...
I also miss the company of someone special, it wasn't the most successful relationship in the world, however it was something and to be single again is sad as I don't know what to do with all of these feelings.
I don't mean to be so personal with everyone at the moment, however I'm feeling unusual and I really don't know what to do with myself. There are people I want to see and people who I don't atall. All I want is to snuggle up in bed with my friends and drink some kind of hot beverage... I just don't like having this hole in my heart after something goes wrong, as it takes so long to heal!
On the plus side my Crystal Castles CD arrived so I'm slowly burning through all the powerfully electronic tunes and making pre-mature judgements about them.
We play this everyday in the sixth form common room and I absolutely love it! Even though it's eight minutes, it's eight minutes of pure sweet-ness. Sixth form is going pretty well so far, although I have developed an aching back and pulsating temple vein. Other than that it's all good in the brotherhood! I'll have a nice social day tomorrow with work and then a partaay, which will most probably involve this tasteful tunage, and a little Gangnum Style dancing...
Yesterday I went on a glorious trip down to London's Kew gardens with my chums. It was absolutely beautiful there and I got some fantastic shots, not only on polaroid but on digi too! I'll share with you a couple of my 'pro' shots later on perhaps, however for now I think it's nice to see the film I shot. I absolutely just fell in love with all of the greenhouses in Kew, telling people that my house will just be like a giant greenhouse when I'm older. I just felt like the atmosphere was tranquil yet there was still alot going on around you with the ferns tapping your shoulder and the creepers wriggling down to greet you from the ceilings. Even though there was five of us, Hannah and I split from the boys and decided to have adventures of our own. By the end of the day we got very tired and everytime Hannah and I were laughing we had to find a bench to sit on or a patch of grass that wasn't stained with bird shit, because we simply had no energy to stand up! It was a wonderful day and I'm happy I recorded it all with my cameras. Also I hope you like the new header, I thought it was time for a little bit of a re-vamp and found this vine photo taken on my 600 so beautiful.
*Also, funny story. Hannah and I were trying to 'observe' wildlife, so when she saw two pigeons perching on a stone feature next to a pond she slowly started creeping up to them (I have no idea why). As she got closer and closer the two birds began to fidget quite alot, patting their little feet on the stone. Then one of them got so nervous that it shit itself. Obviously Hannah and I squawked with laughter at this and both birds flew away. I don't think they flew away because they were scared though... I think they flew away from the embarrassment. Who knows...*
Okay, I have a slight Doc Martens obsession. So much so that I now am a proud owner of five different types of docccs...I know, amazing! My first pair were the boots, ah the Doc Martens boot, so beautiful and comfy. Then went the Mary Janes, the Adrians, the Suedes and now the 1461s! At least it's a sensible shoe which I am obsessed with and not some ballet flats that last a week! I have been wearing docs for over two years now and they have never failed me. They always fit my abnormally wide foot and are just the comfiest shoes known to human kind! I am surprised I have come this far and not bought a pair of extremely outlandish ones! However most of these shoes (apart from my Suedes) have cost me around fourty pounds each, which isn't the cheapest thing ever, so when I do buy them I try to keep it simple and stick with the classics. My Mary Jane's are probably the most 'outrageous' of them all and that's just because they're green! If I were to re-order them then I would've bought them in brown. I am a very Brown/Black shoe person, as are most people I suppose. Anyhow I just think Doc Martens are the shoe for me, and aside from my Creepers and 90's chunky shoes I wear my Docs more than anything. Now thanks to school I can wear them even more, which I am ecstatic about. You know what they say, you can never have too many shoes Doc Martens!
I couldn't resist talking about the amazing creation (and nail saver) that is the brand Models Own. When I say saver, I don't mean nail repairer. I'm talking about turning your drab nails into sensationally incredable pieces of lush-ness (even though none of that is very mature sounding). With the two I bought I have been telling many people that I either feel like a mermaid or that I have 'unicorn blood' on my finger nails. The colours 'Indian Ocean' and 'Ibiza Mix' really compliment eachother and create this mystical, dream-like vibe which I find just beautiful. I'm not much of a light colour nail polish person, I prefer blacks, midnight blues and burgundys, so this is a very rare moment for me. Obviously being a girl I am hugely attracted to glitter, so that was an obvious sign to buy the Ibiza Mix (even my guy-friend Louis rates it!), but if you look at Indian Ocean, well it was just one of the most attracting nail polishes I had seen in a long time. They are quite steep at five pounds per colour, however I've been wearing it for almost five days now and they have only just started wearing away, that's right, not chipping, but wearing away! So seriously people, next time you have some spare cash on you, or you want a little pick-me-up then I recommened you delve into Models Own broad collection of nail polishes and have a ponder. I found mine in Boots, so look in your local one and ASOS do a small selection of colours aswell. So even though I've already spent ten pounds on there polishes, I'm thinking of buying their Disco Heaven (or something) next...
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets
at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the
ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of
night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in
the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw
Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed
through universities with radiant eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light
tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies
for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who
cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and
listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic
beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New
York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley,
death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with
drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless
balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in
the mind leaping towards poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the
motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard
green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront
boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind
king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and
children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain
all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night
in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer
afternoon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen
jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to
Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost batallion of platonic
conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off
Empire State out of the moon
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering
facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and
jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the
pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of
ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern
sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal
in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at
midnight in the railway yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken
hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through
snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
who studied Plotinus Poe
St John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the universe
instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the
streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian
angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in
supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of
Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown
rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex
or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and
Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared
into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving nothing behind but the shadow of dungarees
and the larva and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who
reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big
pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible
leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the
narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism, who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in
Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them
down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who
broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery
of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with
delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking
pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and
were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
who let
themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with
joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors,
caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the
evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering
their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly
trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who
lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the
heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one
eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden
threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate and
fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended
fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last
gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls
trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but were prepared to
sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in
the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen
night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy
to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner
backyards, moviehouses' rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt
waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially
secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who
faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden
Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hungover with heartless
Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment
offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the
snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat
and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the appartment
cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon &
their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb
stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers
of the Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the
darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who
coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky
surrounded by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking
and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of
gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht &
tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves
under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the
roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists
three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique
stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,
who were
burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of
leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion &
the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas
of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of
Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually
happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of
Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who
sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in
the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on
broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European
1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody
toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,
who
barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's
hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who
drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a
vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver,
who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched
over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find
out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on
their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light
and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who
crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden
heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to
Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to
tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or
Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded
sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their
insanity & their hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at
CCNY lecturerson Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite
steps of the madhouse with the shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide,
demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete
void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational
therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only
one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning
years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the
visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim
State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of
the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of
love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the
moon,
with mother finally *****, and the last fantastic book flung out of
the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the
last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger on
the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of
hallucination—
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now
you're really in the total animal soup of time—
and who therefore ran
through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use
of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,
who
dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed,
and trapped the archangel of the soulbetween 2 visual images and joined the
elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with
sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and
measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and
shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the
rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel
beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time
come after death,
and rose incarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in
the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind
for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the
cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem
butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand
years.
II
What sphinx of cement and aluminium bashed
open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch!
Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming
under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the
parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental
Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible
prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch
whose buildings are judgement! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned
governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is
running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a
cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes
are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets
like endless Jehovas! Moloch whose factories dream and choke in the fog! Moloch
whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is
endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose
poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless
hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely!
Moloch in whom I dream angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove
and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I
am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural
ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the
sky!
They broke their backs lifting
Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven
which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations!
miracles! ecstacies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations!
illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive
bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone
down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and
suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of
Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes!
the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude!
waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the
street!
III
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in
Rockland
where you're madder than I am
I'm with you in
Rockland
where you must feel strange
I'm with you in
Rockland
where you imitate the shade of my mother
I'm
with you in Rockland
where you've murdered your twelve
secretaries
I'm with you in Rockland
where you laugh at
this invisible humour
I'm with you in Rockland
where we
are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I'm with you in
Rockland
where your condition has become serious and is
reported on the radio
I'm with you in Rockland
where the
faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses
I'm with
you in Rockland
where you drink the tea of the breasts of the
spinsters of Utica
I'm with you in Rockland
where you
pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx
I'm with you in
Rockland
where you scream in a straightjacket that you're
losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss
I'm with you in Rockland
where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and
immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse
I'm with you in
Rockland
where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to
its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void
I'm with you in
Rockland
where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the
Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha
I'm
with you in Rockland
where you will split the heavens of Long
Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb
I'm
with you in Rockland
where there are twentyfive thousand mad
comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale
I'm
with you in Rockland
where we hug and kiss the United States
under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us
sleep
I'm with you in Rockland
where we wake up
electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof
they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary
walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy
the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free
I'm
with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a
sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in
the Western night
I literally cannot stop thinking about this poem...
Thanks to my chum I am enjoying the psychedelic sounds of Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs. They remind me a little of Friendly Fires which are a classic favourite of mine, its nice lighthearted sounding music, good for dancing and grooving! Their song 'Garden' above is the one I enjoy most, however I am very partial to their other tuuunes. School tomorrow, and I don't know how I feel...
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