Wersya Sensa Yuma

You will probably find this amusing, particularly if you're from an area with a strong regional dialect. I was with some old friends the other night who all grew up in the same area as me and one of them commented that they thought my accent had changed, not dramatically but definitely noticeably, since I started attending University in Leeds. I have become aware of this myself - it's not something I do intentionally on a conscious level, but I have found that my scouse twinge becomes more or less pronounced depending on who I am around. Or how drunk I am.

haha.

I'm researching bands on the net to write some bits and pieces for the Matthew Street Festival website, and whilst glancing at the last.fm of a band called Sound of Guns (I haven't listened to them yet but “Eclectic, raw and equiped for something more, their musicallity(sic) is paramount” The Fly, - apparently) I came across this little gem of a comment:

Bowen72 wrote:
last week

"We had their guitarist in our tent at Latitide screaming about giant lizards that were trying to eat his eyes. He got up to leave but I told him there were WArlords with lasers cos he was too much fun to lose. Unforgettable."

Cute.

sometimes i like to shout "no" at the tv in response to adverts that tell me i need to buy things. I can highly recommend it, it gives an illusion of empowerment

At first, coming back to the real world post-festival always makes me feel a little disoriented, in a way I can't quite put my finger on. This time, I came to the realisation that living in towns and cities, amongst big concrete and glass structures - and the other kind, the invisible but far bigger structures that govern what we say and think and do and the role we slot into - doesn't make me feel like part of a bigger picture, some rich tapestry of human life in which I am but a thread. Rather it makes me feel smaller - I feel less of a person than when I am camped under the sky, rolling around on the grass and surrounded by an organic and ephemeral world. Perhaps city life, suburban life, mainstream existance is so solid and unforgiving in it's forms and values that it leaves little space for the individual within it. I feel more of a person away from it all.

It's interesting because, looking back at a few of the quotes I've posted in this blog over the last couple of months, I suppose this is probably a theme that has been occupying my mind in one way or another for a while now. Trying to negotiate a personal space to inhabit within our society is an interesting challenge filled with inherent contradictions and something tells me that it could be one of those funny but awkward little games which doesn't ever end and requires constant redefinition.

Glasto was fun anyway, it's such a big place that you have to dig pretty deep to find the soul of it but it is in there somewhere, the pulse of the festival beats a vibrant tattoo at the heart of it all, a jungle drum calling the faithful to arms. Met a pride of lions with a princely young man cat who, at our encouragement, leapt onto a post and took refuge amongst the rafters; as security came over, Mummy and Daddy lion came and stood at the foot of the tree, coaxing him down. "He's a climber," they told me, "He was right up all the scaffolding in Shangri La before." Later, he slunk back over and began preparing to jump up again, until a lioness scooped him up in her mouth and took him back to his tent. We danced until dawn, faithful patrons of Slippery Dick's Love Shack, and at 6am met a friend I hadn't seen for a whole year, since we walked together to rescue a friend from prison in Serbia. (there are some kinds of friends who only ever appear at 6am, when you're watching the morning rise backwards.) We spent the following hours nestling in a big womb space that one entered by pushing through a big cushiony pink vagina, until my friend became worried that the various sperm painted on the walls were beginning to threaten him and we vacated to daylight.

Anyhow, I really should be unpacking at the moment - I am surrounded by boxes of glorious property and stacks of blank canvas. My bedroom at my mum and dads house (my base camp for the gypsy summer I have planned) is very small and has a big window that takes up one of the four walls, which has the not unpleasant effect of making me feel like I'm living in a fish tank. It's weird, I was worried about coming back because it's the first time I will have spent a long period of time here in more than 2 years, but I think it's going to be really nice! I forgot how many other people are back, due to finishing degrees and whatnot; and it's nice being five minutes from the woods, and in driving distance of the beach, and being able to spend time playing piano and painting and writing without the various distractions of Hyde Park. Hyde Park is a vortex - it sucks you in and some people get trapped in a strange time loop there; unless you are tethered and grounded I think it's pretty easy to get lost. Leaving was hard; it's the first place in a long time(maybe ever) that I've felt at home - but sometimes it's important to push yourself out of your comfort zone. This is a lesson I've learned on a couple of occasions but every time it's as though I'm realising it again for the first time - it surprises me and makes me realise that those achey, raw feelings of fear and sadness and loss that come from change are just a part of the gateway to something new and different.

Wow, this has ended up being longer than I expected. I should stop procrastinating and actually do some tidying up..