Anyway. NEWSFLASH I am going to Glastonbury again.

I wasn’t supposed to be but Scott bought a ticket from me from the last lot that went on sale the other day. Though I bought crippling wellies that were the wrong size last year, and spent half my time hobbling around the site trying desperately not to complain for fear of making myself look like a whinging idiot, I did actually enjoy myself.

I imagine the rare sunshine that graced the site for four entire days helped tremendously, as did Leonard Cohen, and the stripper-boho-fairy dancers used by Goldfrapp too.

I was proud of myself last year for going, mainly because despite my fear of Poo(p) and all things associated with the functions of our intestines, I braved the infamous longdrops of Glastonbury daily whilst there (albeit with help of an olbas oil inhaler and wetwipes) At least I know what to expect this year.

I will also make sure to smother myself in sun cream as I made the mistake of forgetting on the biggest day of the festival (saturday) severely burnt my face and thus missed Jay-Z’s epic performance due to a pretty bad case of sun-stroke, instead spending the evening by myself in the cinema field with only Alvin and the Chipmunks and Iron Man as my solace.

I almost looked like Lucifer up there. I look forward to more thrift stall magic finds such as these:

More of this too…

So, Glastonbury 2009. The line up is again, not very good this year but in my head unless Radiohead, Muse or Bowie are playing, which they are nor, I won’t be particularly bothered about anybody who is playing. Fleet Foxes are a must of course. Instead, I shall roam the fields like the observant wanderer that I am, though I will begrudge the two mile trek to the now relocated cinema field.

Any other news? We have been planning our trips around New Zealand which is a bit exciting. I’m still trying to convince Scott to spend more than a night in Wellington.

I have realised that half of my follow list on twitter consists of ex-Whedon actors and actresses. I’m not sure what this says about me, except for the fact that I am more of a die-hard fan than I ever thought was possible, what with the Buffy thesis as well. You can never be too old to love, is my motto.

Still following the Flight tour. Scott joked that it would be just our luck that when we went to New Zealand, the two Kiwi’s would tour the UK. I am mortified at the possibility of this thought. If that happens, I will throw a FizzGig Tantrum, like so:

Fizzgig Tantrum

I can not comprehend the idea that I might not get to experience their Sugalumps in person.

Graduation is looming. I am annoyed that I am leaving with £21′000 worth of debt. The actual debt doesn’t bother me, but the fact that the University force me to pay another few hundred pounds on top of the thousands already given to them, just so I can have the privilage of graduating in a cap and gown in front of my proud parents. It makes me feel a bit ill at their greediness actually. The University, not my parents.

Out and Over.

It really doesn’t matter does it?

Anyway, a quick update goes as follows:

Working on my dissertation, which if you are interested, is focusing on Franchise and Commodity vs Iconoclasm in American Cult Television - using Buffy the Vampire Slayer as a case study. I was originally supposed to study House but a few things happened and I had to change my ideas to suit word count and research so….

I can’t end that sentence.

Tickets for our trip across the globe are booked. Roll on 29/11/2009 and the shores of New Zealand. Please.

This summer I shall be visiting London twice. The first time is to support a friend at a poetry magazine launch, Magma, in which he shall be published. A group of us aspiring poets/writers/bums are going to take London by proverbial storm and hopefully make a few thrilling adventures in the two days that we are there. We probably won’t be that exciting, but London, prepare for our arrival anyway.

Then In July I’ll be heading back to watch the amazingly funny Rhys Darby deliver some stand up-voice manipulation-artistry kind-of-caricaturish-type-thing…. watch Imagine That if you don’t know what I’m talking about. Or this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIZs6svBqkw&feature=related

Once again, I’ll be seeing Radiohead live. 3 Times in 3 years isn’t bad going really, is it?

During the time I have been absent from establishing my cyber self via I am Heather (I am Heather, if you didn’t already guess) I have fallen just a little bit in love with New Zealand’s guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo artists Flight of the Conchords. I can not describe the joy they have brought to my life and mind and heart-soul-brain-limbs. They are like a roll of sellotape. They ARE love. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_tDNKYOwSI

I am probably, most definitely about 5 years too late in discovering them, but I don’t think they’ll mind a late-arrival fan.

This weekend was strange but happy. The things that I did see and do I did not expect to do and see prior to 11pm on Friday night. It was exhausting, but full of laughs, great unexpected company and the sea. The sea, as you should know if you know me, always always ALWAYS makes me happy.

Here is the beginning of something I started, but evidently did not finish. As is my way.

Laelia.

Sleeping Beauty, dead to her dreams
surrounding the ornate white bed,
found in a kitsch white palace,
in her utopian kingdom. Also white.

With no breath to take in
the sumptuous smell of twenty-four
vibrant, dying white lilies,
laid beside her own wilting form.

It began as a willful end to a weary wait.
No longer able to resist the beautiful death
offered to her by a cornucopian bloom, enticing
even the boldest spirits to an eternal slumber.

Violets, roses, daisies, and bluebells
haunt the halls with a mounting reverence,
their splendor rising slowly amongst the grounds,
standing gallantly with defiance.

“Poison me, sweet chrysanthemums: with
the saccharine delicacies of your Asian nectar, I shall
drown your flavours hurriedly, amidst the scents
of an Aztec Laelia I discovered at my feet today.”

Their seedlings craved stolen light
found through failing ceilings, nurturing
damp and putrefied wood found in idle doors
and the unoccupied pantry.

And here are some late night musings that are not very good at all but still exist to be read, regardless of their worth.

I asked her to take my hand and she did, even though it was dry with apprehension. I always thought palms were supposed to get wet when somebody was nervous, but no, mine are in need of a scrub and cream. She asked me why she had to take it and I told her that she wouldn’t understand if she didn’t. If she was not an extension of me, then she would not know me. They always say your arms are an extension of yourself, and if your arms are an extension of yourself then your hands are an extension of the extension. So, she can be me from a third perspective this way - even if it is lacking.

Your hand waves from the window
but she walks and walks and cannot see you.
Maybe the sun was too bright and you
were too shiny to see today.
You stay there for a few hours and a day
and she walks past once more.
Now the clouds are out and you
aren’t as shiny.
She still doesn’t wave.

I put my hand on your knee and you look upwards. Like my face was there and not over here. I wonder why you always have to look away. Something important happens and you look away: probably in the hope that there is something more thrilling than my dead-white face.

))<>((

Forever x

Oh how pretentious of me, I know, I know! But I can’t help asking because the book I am reading is making me ask and I am also contemplating other matters relating to blindness but not in the strictest, most literal sense of the word.

I also have a strong desire to watch Heathers, Moulin Rouge, The Neverending Story and American Psycho - though not necessarily in that order.

Today it snowed.

And so, minus the obvious 2oth century addition of the motorised vehicle, the view from Larkin Building made my University look like something Dickensian (or perhaps ‘Austenian’ as the building you see is more Bourgeouis and less plebian slum you might find down a dark London alley). Of course, the perfect blankets did not last very long and the British tendency for rain meant that by this evening the snow was a snotty mush - yep, I said it - a snotty mush of dirt and ice. Hopefully th eblankets will be out again tomorrow morning and I will build me a snowman of epic proportions (I’m thinking Marshmellow Man size circa ghostbusters 1984).

Searching for ‘Epic Snowman’, I found this -

Sarah, I salute you. And your snowy friend.

So it turns out that, once in New Zealand, I can get on a real Horse and trek through quite a few special places associated with The lord of the Rings. The Forest filmed as Lothlorien, past the Misty Mountains and Amon Hen…so I need to take my sword (I’m sure customs and security won’t mind) and my pointy ears. well, i need to buy a new set of pointy ears. What if I bought a dress too? Psuedo Elf Maiden. How terribly pathetic. But I really would, and I would really really love every minute of it. I don’t think Scott would let me be so extreme - but it’s a nice thought. For an extra hundred dollars I could take the horse into the river too. But I can’t afford it - and would probably a little too scared to do it anyway.

Apparently, for only $2200 New Zealand dollars, I can go on a ten day ‘Lord of the Rings’ tour around both Islands. You know that if i could afford it, I would definitely go.

The trip looks as follows (so far)

1st December 2009 - Manchester to London to New York

5th December - New York to Los Angeles

5th December - Los Angeles to Hawaii

9th December - Hawaii to Sydney to Auckland

Five weeks in New Zealand, one week spent travelling the South Island doing the above Horse Trek, visiting Milford Sound, Sea Kayaking, Nelson (where the jeweller who made the One Ring resides) and other various places…the other four weeks spent with Scott’s family for a summer christmas in the North Island (and a visit to Hobbiton).

15th January 2010 - Auckland to Tokyo

19th January 2010 Tokyo to London to Manchester

The biggest trip of my entire life and I will be travelling around the entire planet. Flip flops and obligatory tourist outfits at the ready!

You know, this sounds suspiciously like I’m travelling only with the intent of reliving Lord of the Rings in my own head. well, that might be partially true, but I think we are all allowed our own obsessions in this life and this is mine so I am allowed to be excited. I make no secret of the fact that I secretly believe I’ll happen upon Peter Jackson whilst I’m over there. I have no plans as to what I would do if this actually happened. I’d probably become hysterical, or run away. Neither being a very good or respectable option. But now I just sound like a fangirl, which I am, but to save face I shall move on from this topic and talk about how excited I am at seeing the world and how terrified I am of all the aeroplanes I’ll be in. Throw statistics at me to make me feels safe.

I’m listening to Nick Drake. I’m reading The Blindness by Jose Saramago. I’ve just watched Twelve Monkeys. tomorrow i’ll be watching and discussing Firefly in Televisual Narrative Part 2. The next book I read is called Buddhas of Suburbia. I’m still reading Miranda July on and off, as her stories are short and can each be read between getting to the bus stop and arriving at work early (as usual). I bought the United States of Leland. Scott looks like Ryan Gosling. On Thursday I will be dancing with Cocktails. And after remembering my short life at primary school, I will be writing a few things about happy times.

Christmas, as always, went by too fast. I didn’t listen to enough Christmas songs and i’m incredibly sad that I wasn’t allowed to see my Nana and Granddad because everybody was sick and they didn’t want me accidentally passing on germs. Which makes sense. But I wanted to sit in their small living room eating Mr Kipling cakes, drinking Nana’s sweet tea and I wanted to look at the garden where the world was once magic. I made my own fairy tales underneath that washing line.

After this I’m going to finish My Friend Leonard. Once again, I gave up reading because I had too much free time to do anything productive. It’s funny how that happens. You find yourself at home, alone, with nobody to see and a wealth of things you could do, you know you should do, but you sit on your sofa naked witha  blanket watching reruns of America’s Next Top Model and the TCM channel. Just me, eh?

Well anyway, this is my last semester now. Three years have gone by so quickly. How cliche. My modules this semester include Future Fear: Science Fiction in America, Modern Hollywood, Televisual Narrative Part 2 and finally, my dissertation. I have no idea what my dissertation should be about. I thought I’d be a smart arse and think of some hip new subject, but after months of all talk and no substance I realised I was kidding myself and that there was no way I was going to be able to pull it off successfully.

Over the summer I need to find a well paid, full time job to pay for my travels in December. So far the itinerary looks like this:

New York - First week of December (or second)

Stop off at Los Angeles before heading to Hawaii for 4 or 5 days

Hawaii to Sydney before catching a  plane to New Zealand.

New Zealand for a month…visting Scott’s family and of course every possible destination that has some link with Lord of the Rings. I know. I’m sad. But I won’t apologise for my obsession, sorry. On the way back home we’ll be going to Tokyo. I don’t know how we are going to pay for all this. I don’t know where we will live when we get back, or who will look after my hamster and my fish…

These things make me most nervous about life. Not knowing. I guess I like plans for reassurance. Scott is an adventurer. He may be reserved in every other aspect of his personality, but when it comes to adventures he’s gung-ho Bear Grylls style. though I’m sure he would never eat a fish head. Or rocks for that matter. We are both looking forward to New York mainly because it will be christmas when we go and we will be visiting all the places Kevin McAllister enjoyed when he was Home Alone in New York. Jodi, I know you might be reading this so I’m going to be rude and ask if you could come up with a  list of your own personal must-sees in New York. Your list will be far more entertaining, knowedgable and cool than any Lonely Planet or AA guide can come up with for me. I hope yours involves Coney Island.

Films I have watched in the past month that I loved:

SlumDog Millionaire

United States of Leland

Wall-E (on Blu-Ray….it does make a difference!)

Eagle VS Shark

Paris Je T’aime

Eyes Wide Shut

Rediscovering Honey I Shrunk The Kids.

One question: What ever happend to Rick Moranis? I am a bit apprehensive about checking up on his life at IMDB or Wiki…mainly because he’ll either be dead or doing something boring ‘behind the scenes’ which will anger me. So, if you have your own theories of Rick Moranis’ whereabouts, then please post them. The best one wins a creme egg.

My living room is lit with mini lights and I have already wrapped presents, which means they are under my tree much sooner this year than they ever have been. Everything has been pretty hectic recently. But although my invisible timetable has been rammed full with meetings here, there, classes wherever, and work, work, work, it has all felt a little empty.

I know why. And I’m not going to divulge in any details here because nobody reads it anyway and even you are reading it now and I am wrong, I still don’t want to besiege you with the ins and outs of my personal issues. All I will say is that I have once again lost somebody, and I am still unsure as to why this is, and why they have given no explanation.

It isn’t a nice thing to know that what is said to you is not any form of tangible truth, but is instead a hazy kind of fantasy developed to keep you happy and poke that fuzzy thing inside that blinkers you from realising….reality.

Ok. I am sounding completely morbid here, and it is the season of joy and goodwill - both of which I actually have an abundance of, despite my emotional niggles elsewhere. SO! I’ll start again.

The past few weekends have been spent both in London and York. Me and Scott made our way to London to watch Jools Holland and his Rhythm and Blues Orchestra Band - courtesy of BCX or some other 3-lettered, big business thingymabob - and, though we had to endure a 2 course meal with a  bunch of over dressed, over-made up, pretentious yuppies, we had an amazing time watching Little Jools and his Big Big Band in the Royal Albert Hall. We then skipped dessert with the aforementioned yups, and went to Tescos for Krispy Cremes and Kettle Chips instead. We also spent an afternoon with his brother, happily traipsing the backstreets of London in the rain before waiting to be let into Selfridges and buying my mum her amazing Christmas Present - A Jelly belly bean machine. Oh yes.

York was York. A city dear in my heart. It’s a shame we didn’t get tos pend longer there. I didn’t see all of the Christmas light

I have two assignments due next week, both of which don’t exist yet. One, however, was part-presentation and that part is over with now. Who’d have thought looking up from your script would reveal a small audience of blurry colours, faceless, indistinguishable, hiding behind my self-induced panic and tunnel vision!!!

I need to pick a topic to study for my Science Fiction module….

and…

I’ve completed my first ever film script. It is for a short, university production that should be about twenty minutes in length. And it was hell. But hell in a  good way. You know what way I mean. When you stare at a blank word document for an hour wondering what on earth you were thinking of accepting such an offer, thinking how the hell am I supposed to create something that is almost entirely conversation, when you are only used to writing blurbs, snippets, poetry, short prose…

what on earth was I doing?

I did it anyway. And by doing so, you could say, I expanded my horizons. I have also gained a new friend who has enlightened me on such issues as The Spirit Molecule, Time Travel, Serj Tankian and other  delights, who also listens to me ramble on and on (and on) about anything and everything, from my dream alter-ego super-hero self, my thoughts on religion, and even how I came to own the couch in my house. Which, as you can imagine, is pretty good for me, seeing as most people switch off and nod along, glaze-eyed, when I talk complete nonsense. maybe he is just a really good actor. But I hope not.

Anyway, Scott is now playing with his Bose Companion 3, one of his Christmas presents from me that I have had to give early because we bought it together yesterday whilst in York. I don’t think he could have sat out the next 3 weeks, watching it eagerly in its box whilst drooling over the mere thought of the sounds he could hear from it if he set it all up. Plus, I want him to play a bit of Nick drake on it for me, and I can’t wait until the 25th either so….

Ciao!

Wait, he’s playing Simon and Garfunkel now….I’ll wait for this to finish….

Sunspots rest on your eyelids
Directing like sign posts
A way, the way to a place
No satellite could ever quite reach.
The coarse stone sticks to your palm
And is the only reminder of mortality right now.
Cold and soaked in a millennia of different realities
You take it everywhere, as a reminder that
You exist on more planes than just this,
Here.

Nothing is always something. Always. I have tried to explain this some times to some people. Some got it and some didn’t. In some ways, I wish that I didn’t dwell on such a stupid statement some of the time. Always.

Bullet points that I cannot find on this high tech blog software. I cannot find the bold button either. How can these pixels, arranged in such a way, irritate me and make me feel awkward and lost? Because I cannot make things darker and more striking; more poignant, expressive, reflexive, it. Means. Something. When. It. Is Bold. Its absence reminds me of what I cannot make myself do.

Today is the last day of the past of my life.

What am I saying?

Word at last, I love, I heart, interviews spill the BEANS and is a guide to a life, a book about Travellers in fields of plenty with bonus material. Let us play the scene up, Hawks, Duty, Lays and ways that knew Too Much.

These are words I can see with my eyes where I am sat right now. Tell me what words you see.

It Is

The very realness of it,
as though clocks did not tock-tick
their way at all forward, not even moving
Backwards slowly behind in that
Anti-wise manner we never see.
No, neither forwards nor backwards
Now, it just is.
It is
Just then, back then, now then do you
Feel it?
The nausea, and you grasp at your face.
Despair at those words
These words are only words lost to
Five, Six or Ten summers
Past but they are clear
And definitely too loud now.
Hardened, they pelt, brutally
And no number will help forget
How your fingernails drew blood
Beneath your eyes and how it stings
Still, if you press that place accidently,
It remembers still and that clock means
Nothing anymore.

As sunlight crowns her head
warming her cheeks that soften her face
and smile for her

I may have sounded a little defiant at the beginning of my last post. I wasn’t trying to be defiant. I was letting out a huge melancholic sigh, with a sad face and a look in my eye that would tell you how lost I was at a situation I couldn’t understand or overcome by myself. The above ’snippet’ will tell you how I really feel. The little girl in my dreams, my very own Lady of the Lake, the Luthien I see sometimes in the glaring sun, beyond my reach and dancing in all of her glory amongst the grass.

Beleriand, Beleriand

the borders of the faëry land…

Such lissom limbs no more shall run
on the green earth beneath the sun ;
so fair a maid no more shall be
from down to dusk, from sun to sea.
Her robe was blue as summer skies,
but grey as evening were her eyes ;
‘twas sewn with golden lilies fair,
but dark as shadows was her hair.
Her feet were light as bird on wing,
her laughter lighter than the spring ;
the slender willow, the bowing reed,
the fragance of a flowering mead,
the light upon the leaves of trees,
the voice of water more than these
her beauty was and blissfulness,
her glory and her loveliness ;
and her the king more dear did prize
than hand or heart or light of eyes…

there flitting just before his feet

she gently chid with laughter sweet

‘Come! dance now, Beren, dance with me!

For fain thy dancing I would see…

. . . Of cloudy hair
she wove a web like misty air
of moonless night, and thereof made
a robe as fluttering-dark as shade
beneath great trees, a magic dress
that all was drenched with drowsiness.

Her…she…I don’t know what else she is but the above. Her was only the biggest of description that I could myself offer to whomever may read. I cannot find my own words and so have resorted to showing you others.