Life

So about those old people, huh?

I think we need to interact with old people more. For one it might change their thoughts on us rotten kids, secondly they hold a whole world of knowledge that you just can’t find on the internet.

Old people are like a past generation Google but for experience rather than knowledge. You can learn so much from our older generation, whenever I can I’ll ask my grandad what life was like after the war when he was growing up, he might not remember all of it but it’s interesting to hear his stories.

I’d much rather hear war stories and memories of other people than play them in unrealistic recreations in games.* I don’t think we give enough thought to what life was like before our times when such monumental events took place before we were even thought of.

Personally I’d have LOVED to have been around for the big dirty punk movement of the 70’s and 80’s, but I can get a pretty close approximation of how it must have felt by talking to someone who lived through it from different perspectives. Your mom and dad would probably see these events much more differently to their parents.

Admittedly old people can be a little bit racist, homophobic and very questionable on certain similar issues, so don’t take everything they say as gospel if you’re one of the people whose grandad has an interesting opinion on “the Blacks” or “the gays”, I recommend talking about something else before he goes into another 3 hour rant about immigration.

*- yes Call of Duty, I’m looking at you.

Overall, I think our elders deserve a lot more credit and appreciation, but I’m just a big fan of stories, so that’s just me.

Hope you’re all having a great Saturday, 

~James 

Me and my stepdad.

So my mum has been seeing my stepdad for around 8 years now and it’s only in recent years I’ve realised exactly how much of a complete arsehole he is. He’s one of those people who EXPECTS you to do a job because he’s an adult and apparently that merits some kind of award and makes everyone under 18 his personal litter box to shit on.

He just demands respect from people not actually realising that respect doesn’t work that way, that’s not respect; it’s fear, the exact opposite. He’ll go on about how I can do half a job (but all of what he’s told me to do) and yet won’t even thank me for doing it. He’ll go on about “if I was in the real world” or “in a real job”, yeah well if I was in a real job I’d be getting paid and wouldn’t just be expected to do a job for someone I don’t even work for.

Today’s problem is my room, apparently. Because somehow it’s the bane of his existence if a room in a house he doesn’t even live in, isn’t up to his unrealistic minimalist standards.

The only reason I can think of that’d make him want me to clean my room is so his 2 braincells don’t get distracted when he barges in to tell me to do more jobs he won’t appreciate or thank me for.

This rant was brought to you by my tendency to express anger creatively rather than keeping it inside me.

Hope you’re all having wonderful days.

A blast with the past.

So my old school had a summer fair the other day, a great opportunity to meet the staff I knew and see some old friends. Before going I learned that my old band was performing as part of it. So I put my favourite guitar luck in my pocket just in case.
Like musical candy from the back of a nicely decorated white van, I gave in and asked if I could play with them again. At the risk of extending the metaphor beyond funny they were more than welcoming to invite me back in again.

I did have some videos but the sound quality from my girlfriends iPhone 4s was unable to encapsulate the sheer levels of tenacity being thrown out of our amps.*

*-that just sounds like I’m bigging up a shit band, we’re not bad I promise.

After a rather disappointing bus driver drove past me and my girlfriend we walked back to my school to ask if my old music tech teacher could give us a lift because he was heading that way. My old school is I’m the country side so busses are very few and far between, this was the latest bus I could take where I could take the next bus back to my house, so it goes without saying that this bus driver did make me particularly pissed off until the lift to town was sorted.

The car journey went inconveniently quickly, I had nowhere near enough time to catch up with probably one of the most inspirational People in my life. Without him I wouldn’t have ever considered music. It was essentially just talking about music, reminiscing about the past and discussing how my girlfriend’s cousin named her baby Kal-El after superman’s Kryptonian birth name. Which is just plain awesome there’s no pompous overblown analogy or metaphor to describe it.

Tomorrow I’m helping clear up an art exhibition and going for a drink with some friends after so I just bid you all goodnight for now and I hope you all are doing well for yourselves. 

Edit

It’s too late for this stuff.

It’s currently 23:25, I’ve just eaten a cheese and mustard sandwich and I’ve got a cup of green tea so strong it could most likely corrode metal and forge gold rings imbued with the detoxing powers of all the tea you can get for £3.89. I really don’t want to drink this. It’s just sitting there with it’s putrid green, leafy eyes, begging to venture down my throat and cleanse me with it’s magical power, which I am very disrespectfully, giving a miss.

By my own morals and best attempt at self caring – I should not be this awake this late. I just want to make more music and draw but my bed is yearning for me, like the warm comforting hand of sleep rocking me in a relaxing 6/8 rhythm.

I think my ADHD is getting the better of me, today I’ve gone from making metal on one software  to House in the other, I’ve removed the NY from a snapback for being too mainstream, gone to buy Monster, played on my xbox for like 20 minutes and watched Peep Show. Admittedly this information is all as you say, bollocks, but I felt like posting something, so Merry Early Christmas.

~James x