Wolves Riding Bears.

I do, I do.

Someone I can always be around and someone who I do loads of lovely things with.

It fucking sucks having no one constant to have around. I hate being a reluctant loner. It's not even my choice! :|
Everyone assumes I want to be left alone it seems, all the time, but no one ever considers that I want to have someone there.
I need a best friend.
Someone consistent.
Someone special.
Someone close.
Someone close, here.
Someone reliable above anyone.

I just need it but, fuck.
I can't get it.

The last best friend I had was James Ackerley, but, that was all one way. He was my best friend, I wasn't his.
We didn't spend any time together, just me and him and if we did it was like once every few months.
I wish I was someone's number one.
Someone's reliable guy.
I want to be someone's best friend.

Mr. Seeland, please relish as much as you need to.

You know, it's a shame no one sports the Chaplin 'tash nowadays. Hitler had to ruin it, didn't he?

Atlas Skye, or, as I shall call them Atlas Skype, is a really disappointing outcome of a year of loyal waiting.
For those unaware, which, all of you probably are, I shall explain.

From the years 2004 until 2008 there existed a band named Drive-By Argument. Anyone who has known me for more than year will probably understand well that they were at one point my favouritest band ever. They were an electro-indie-dance-sex-funk OMGus package of good rocking punk-emo, electronic music, synthesizer sounds, diverse vocals, catchy guitar riffs, electro and acoustic beats unique and odd song names unpredictability. I was in love like nothing other. I first found them supporting Panic (back when the exclamation was necessary) At the Disco on the 22nd Of August (a day after my birthday, I'll have you know) 2006 in Wolverhampton; It was the best night of my life. I can needlessly claim how much they blew me away. I'd never heard music like this before. I even remarked to my friend Kathrine "You know, I am probably going to end up liking these" and I did. That evening, or maybe a few evenings on, I purchased my first iTunes track and it was by them, which was a demo of the song "Lower Your Pieces" as I say, I fell in love. The love was unconditional, beautiful and how love for music should be. From then on, they were my favourite band. I couldn't get enough. It was like a drug that just was never enough. Every song just made me feel so good and happy at my discovery. It made me happy about music, about what music could bring me and shaped my appreciation of music today. The differences and exciting twists music could be taken.

In March 2008 they released their self-titled debut album; at the time the album had been delayed a year due to their god-awful record label (a term of which is so loose, I may as well have called them Cunt Shysters) Lizard King, famed for the discovery of the Killers (look at them now) and due to that wait, I had basically exhausted every piece of the band's catalogue when the album was actually released and a few months after it's release I subsequently moved on and away from their music. But, as soon as their album was released, it was like, they'd never existed. They were no where to be seen for like a year. I found out that they couldn't put up new music as if they did, LK would instantly own them and they'd have no say over how the tracks would be treated. So, gone they were seeming to be. Recently I spoke to some of the members via various networking sites; they told me about a return which would be occurring very soon. I was excited. I was excited to get my band back. It was a similar feeling you get when you know an old friend of yours is coming back from a far off land. However, today, I have seen the come back, and this friend has shocked me. Drive-by Argument are no longer the band I once knew. In fact, Drive-By Argument are no longer Drive-By Argument, but, Atlas Skye.

First thought, horrible name. Atlas Skye, what the fuck does that mean? Atlas Skye? That's the kind of band name some pointless and overly self-assured teenage pricks call their band when they think they're creative. It doesn't mean anything. It's so...pop rock and wank. Getting onto my second point; they are fucking pop rock. Right, I hate pop rock more than most things in the world. I find it to be one of the most bland and worthless genres. It's the kind of wank that the little sixteen year old philistines you meet at college wank over. I'm thinking Scouting For Girls and other such, but, more generic. If that were possible.
Thirdly, I have heard their new stuff and I am completely gobsmacked. I mean, I know that, when creating a new band and a new era for your band, you don't want to sound like the last, but, fucking hell, you could have tried a little harder to impress me. It's really generic pop rock. Just nothing. Even Stoke's vocals can't be arsed anymore, which, really, I thought would be the saviour of this terrible idea, but no.

www.myspace.com/atlasskye

Check for yourself, you may like it, but, I sadly do not. It may grow on me, but, for now, it's a downturned thumb.

Indie Pop Happy band: - Alar Dananananaykroyd.
There would be four of us. I would play the bass, but occasionally I would put the bass down and jump around a bit and sing tunes about things.
Harry would play the guitar and make jingly jangly, happy, catchy riffs.
Frank would drum, loudly and make a load of clapping noises with his sticks whenever he could.
Pete would sing, and play rhythm guitar, have short hair, plump glasses and an odd face, but, everyone would think he was cool, all the same.
And we would all jump into the audience whenever we could and played amongst the people.
We would make poppy happy songs about girls and oddly amusing tales of happy people and their lives, sitting in cafes and such.
We'd make crazy tour people and make sure we broke the 4th wall quite substantially as we would talk to the audience and ask them stupid questions and stuff and occasionally get them up on stage and do dances and shit.

'Cause it's cool if a band does that, not so cool if an actor asks a member of the audience to come up and recite a monologue or something.

Please watch the video bellow.
Everything about it is pretty.

Is it worse to be loved by people you do not feel the same about, or to not be loved by the people you assumed did?

This week has been given to me, on a platter, with a nice possibility for actual enjoyment. Sadly, it was not to be the case. This week has been shit. There really is no more high brow way of saying it. It has been shit.
I mean, very little was planned for this week, really, but, everything that was planned, has either been:
1. Juggled about, and left feeling lack luster, and missing a few of its original qualities.
2. Not happened at all.
Or whatever.

Everything always just fails miserably and is never right.
Ergh. I just get bad luck on every angle. No one appreciates me fully and the people that do I don't.
I'm sick of it.
Sick of you.
Sick of them.
Just sick and tired.

It annoys me how easily people get confused by the lack of emoticons and the heightening of language use, especially, textually, and proceed to jump to the conclusion that the barer of the intellect is somehow deranged, angry or generally displeased.
For some reason, you need to thoroughly make it clear that you are in no way disgruntled in order to save accusations that you are somehow 'heated'. And it all boils down to the simple fact that, unless you smother the other in the debate, conversation, whatever you will call it with clear affection to them, rather than indifference and just generally, dealing with the subject matter, paranoia seems to ensue. How insecure this generation is clear to be, it would seem.
But, oddly, in person, it's fine.
I suppose it is the lack of tone that frightens people and how vast its interpretations can be, and people generally side with the negative. 
I'm not sure why, really, maybe it is just one of those things people tarnish as the 'human nature' but, it is darn right silly.

Is it more acceptable to be ignorant & clueless or knowing & lying?

I look back, nostalgically, into my decaying mind, numbly perusing several memories more perfect than ones of now. The affections and the indulging, effortless conversation, however filled with so much of it and both intertwined to form something amazing. When paying notice to these dreamlike times, it makes one wonder on his own status in the modern day. Is life really as lovely as one would want it to be? It wouldn't seem to be so. Regret is such a tragic curse of the memory, especially memories which involve times that don't occur any more.
People, faces, and places.
Words, expressions, sharing.
Secrets, hearts, appreciation.
And you turn to your current state; yes certain things are obviously worth while, and you love them dearly, such as people, items, customs, habits you've adopted, ones you've released, but, it never seems like the thrill of life pertains to anything you're involved with anymore. No one gives you that spark, that smile and most of all, joy.
Joy is lacking, nowadays.
People bring joy, and if the joyous people have departed, it's a horrid existence of sociality. Perhaps you are not allowing yourself to experience joy anymore. Surely, on the perusal of its skin, that idea seems to be ridiculous.
But, really, is it that hard to believe?
Think.
You've loved these people; you've given them your heart, your mind and your hand, and you look over to find them gone, vanished and without a trace of regret for it. It had to be done. So, surely, after however many times of that happening, think of the amount of friends one usually gains over a year, especially if they're very interested in online networking, after many of these people you once cared for, in your heart, once so many leave, your heart is going to be 'sick' of trying to open once again to accept any more. This leaves the barer fickle, and stolen; stolen from his desired position as an open and sociable man. No longer can he simply open his arms and welcome all who come; it makes it more difficult to do so. You become more selective with your people, they have to be a certain way and a certain type. This is similar for partners also. And ultimately, you realise you feel nothing for this person, so, you end up squandering contacts with them and decide that it 'wasn't to be'.
Probably a few weeks later, you will be more than likely regretting this decision, and begging for their forgiveness/re-friendship. If you are lucky, this person will forgive and let you return into their folds.
However, you may be feeling happy with yourself, alas, it will more than likely be a brief, fleeting mind fooling, as, within however long, they'll be showing their liking for you, and you'll start to feel uncomfortable that you don't feel the same way as they do.
You start doubting yourself. You think you're living a lie and that every time you talk to them, you're lying to them. You're lying by being their friend. You're wasting their time. "It's cruel, I better do something about it," you think.
So, the next step is either to brave it and see how you feel in however long, or tell them and ruin everything. But, how long can you wait it out? They're already moving closer and closer. Inching toward your hand. They like you a lot and you can barely talk to them without feeling guilty.
What is the answer to this? I know not. If I did, I'd tell you, I would. It'd be cruel of me to know and not tell you, as you see, I would like to know myself. The point is, the problem is there and it needs to be solved. I'm clearly digressing.
After numerous torturous endings to your beloved friendships, it's a very difficult thing to care again, as i've explained above. I have no real answer to share with you today, other than; If you can rectify the old friendships that made living so good, I'd take that chance.
And boy, I would If I could.

Someone fix it for me.


Taah.

Let's All Be More Semantic. says: (17:38:09)
Do you think that the liking and fucking of sex dolls is a step down from necrophilia? *-)
[b][c=1]MikeEatsAirplane[/c][/b] [i][c=5]Everyone but me looks like they've seen a ghost.[/c][/i] says: (17:40:27)
No.
Let's All Be More Semantic. says: (17:40:44)
Oh...Well.
[b][c=1]MikeEatsAirplane[/c][/b] [i][c=5]Everyone but me looks like they've seen a ghost.[/c][/i] says: (17:41:07)
Why, do you?
Let's All Be More Semantic. says: (17:41:12)
It seems it
Let's All Be More Semantic. says: (17:41:16)
They're not reacting
Let's All Be More Semantic. says: (17:41:20)
Lifeless...

My perceptions on things keep changing regularly. One minute I'll think highly of something, then, I'll realise that I never felt that thing in the first place. Maybe I'm just pretending to like anything when in actual fact I don't like anything anymore.

:(

Claps, clicks and bumps and bums.
Cowbells, gang vocals and foot stamps.
Etc.

The trades of the nu-indie scenes seem to be based around just the simple enjoyment of little things.
Clapping along.
Little games, such as that of Dananananananananananananananykroyd's 'Wall Of Hugs' in place of the typical 'hardcore' 'don't label me' scene kid scene of the 'Wall of Death'.
They don't take themselves seriously.
It's more about enjoying oneself with progress, experimentation and basically, having fun.
Nu-Indie, encompassing Math Rock, Fight Pop, Math Pop, and the general resources of danceable Indie.
It's fun just to enjoy making music and performing arts.
Also, fuck four chords.
It's now all about being technical and yet still jumping about whist playing.
Also, include the bassist a bit.
Don't leave them playing the same chord for several metres.

Jumping is fun.
Jump into the crowd and involve them.
Make them do things.
Make them carry you while you play.

Play as many instruments as you can.
Get a cowbell and stick and hit it to the beat.
Play around with a keyboard once in a while.
Maybe get your laptop, hook it up and play some samples.
Just go mental.

Experimenting is fun.

:(

I wish people would pay more attention to me.

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and I once again am spending it alone.
I'm not even going to be having friends 'round because they're all in relationships.

It doesn't make sense :'[
I'm good.
I'm damned good.
And there are fat ginger people with weird hair who are getting more than I.
It doesn't make sense.
I'm clearly not a munter and I know i'm interesting and very 'of myself' so, why is it so fucking difficult?
I mean, I barely meet any gay people as it is.
But, surely, people can find another people.
Why am I not getting any notice?
Why aren't people sending cards to my door?
Okay, I wont 'know' until tomorrow.
But, honestly, they wont.
They need my fucking address first.

It's just shit.
:(
I've been single for 19 years.
It's just wrong.
Someone save me.

Nobody likes to wait. So we've focused on the basics that can impact the speed of your PC. Windows 7 starts up, shuts down, resumes from standby, and responds faster. You'll have fewer interruptions and can recover more quickly from problems when they do occur because Windows 7 will help you fix them when you want.

We're not shit, honest!

I have to say this because it's been eating me up inside longer than I can even recall.
I hate my generation.

The people of my generation are self-centred, pointlessly rebellious (because they can) idiot-toting wasters with no stake in society or any want to be. They live on their own arrogance alone, hoping that will propel them to great heights, by basically calling everyone around them a cunt, and in turn, they call the next person along one, and so and so forth until ultimately, everybody hates, mistrusts and is annoyed by everyone else.
Hate breeds hate as much as happiness breeds happiness.
But, hate is easier to produce when so many practice it as result for their 'shit' lives.
Everyone's messed up, please, don't think you're the first.
I don't really care how badly treated you think you are by your dad, it's not my fault.
So, stop whining about how bad you think your life is.
The old saying goes well.
There's always someone worse off than yourself.

And, yes, I appreciate you have troubles, everyone does, but, if you're going to think that it's more important than the sun, then, please, fuck off.

Because we're all 'new men' we're allowed to show our feelings now.
Unfortunately, men haven't worked out how to yet.
So, they end up fucking their lives up by saying things, or not saying things when they need to.
And also from this, we can't deal with our own emotions.
We've been taught to supress them, and now, we have to look at them and figure them out.
Women know what they're thinking because they've been brought up to realise their own minds.
Shame that men were told that thinking was pointless until they're about 64 when they can think and tell all their ignorant and 'experienced' mind's contents.

Please, do.

This Town Needs Guns.
Elk.

Please, someone design me a brilliant layout for this thing.

I can't seem to get any to even work in the 'Edit HTML' thing.
It keeps saying stuff about XML.
Ergh.
I don't like their boring default layouts.

My hands are cold.

How are you?

Anyone want to come and stay at mine?
You'll be more than welcome.

12:21:24 Eliot Kid.: Want me to tell you my adventurous tale of last night?
12:22:05 (F)望 Infinite Detail: Alright
12:22:21 Eliot Kid.: Well
12:23:04 Eliot Kid.: At around about half five, my mum gave me a lift to the train station, so I could head off to Liverpool.
12:23:12 Eliot Kid.: She took me to the wrong train station
12:23:18 Eliot Kid.: So I had to ring her and get her to take me to the other
12:23:48 Eliot Kid.: I got the train to Chester, changed there, got the half six to Liverpool Central.
12:23:51 Eliot Kid.: Sat.
12:23:52 Eliot Kid.: Read.
12:23:56 Eliot Kid.: Ate sandwiches.
12:23:59 Eliot Kid.: Drank water.
12:24:03 Eliot Kid.: Listened to iPod
12:24:09 Eliot Kid.: And at about
12:24:13 Eliot Kid.: Green Lane stop
12:24:16 Eliot Kid.: It started saying
12:24:20 Eliot Kid.: 'This train is going to Chester'
12:24:22 Eliot Kid.: And I was like
12:24:24 Eliot Kid.: 'Huh? '
12:24:35 Eliot Kid.: I mean, stupid thing for them to do
12:24:45 Eliot Kid.: But apparently it just goes to Central and then turns around and goes back to Chester
12:24:45 Eliot Kid.: But
12:24:53 Eliot Kid.: Say that when I've gotten off at Central
12:24:56 Eliot Kid.: Anyway
12:24:57 Eliot Kid.: Got off
12:25:02 Eliot Kid.: Had a very needed piss
12:25:13 Eliot Kid.: And shot off to try and find the Liverpool Barfly
12:25:29 Eliot Kid.: I had a map from Google.maps
12:25:37 Eliot Kid.: So, I took the route
12:25:39 Eliot Kid.: Aaaand
12:25:47 Eliot Kid.: The Barfly wasn't where it said on the fucking map
12:25:57 Eliot Kid.: I trawled for ages trying to find it
12:26:10 Eliot Kid.: Eventually stopping and asking some middle aged goth lady for directions
12:26:27 Eliot Kid.: Getting there, I headed upstairs and perused the room
12:26:30 Eliot Kid.: Then texting you
12:26:35 Eliot Kid.: About it's nicenesss
12:27:11 Eliot Kid.: Then the first played. Instrumental Math Rock band. Was good. Then after they finished, had a nice little chat with Tim; the guitarist from This Town Needs Guns
12:27:25 Eliot Kid.: Then, second act came on, who were like a crap version of the first.
12:27:49 Eliot Kid.: I then stowed my stuff in a dark corner of a room
12:28:11 Eliot Kid.: Then, as the next artist was prepping
12:28:58 Eliot Kid.: Stuart, the front man of This Town Needs Guns came over and introduced himself and apologised for the fact that he promised a lift home but had to turn me down
12:29:29 Eliot Kid.: However, I told him that my train was due to leave at 10:35, and he was like 'Well...that's when we're meant to be going on. There's two more bands to play'
12:29:41 Eliot Kid.: So it was like 'Shit...D:'
12:29:59 Eliot Kid.: So,
12:30:04 Eliot Kid.: As the next artists were on
12:30:05 Eliot Kid.: I was like
12:30:07 Eliot Kid.: 'Curse you'
12:30:29 Eliot Kid.: 'Curse you for wanting to take up a set list with your music and not letting TTNG come on sooner, meaning i'll miss them'
12:31:23 Eliot Kid.: When the third band came off, I spoke with Stuart again, and he said about, he would ask if anyone in the audience was going to North Wales and could give a lift and if not, they'd just squeeze me in
12:31:33 Eliot Kid.: So yeah
12:31:36 Eliot Kid.: Next band came on
12:31:38 Eliot Kid.: Fit bassist
12:31:51 Eliot Kid.: Then TTNG came on
12:31:55 Eliot Kid.: GOOOOD
12:31:58 Eliot Kid.: And then yeah
12:32:04 Eliot Kid.: Helped them tidy up
12:32:08 Eliot Kid.: Bought a shirt
12:32:12 Eliot Kid.: *is wearing that shirt*
12:32:28 Eliot Kid.: Helped them move stuff to their van, down the steps and stuff
12:32:43 Eliot Kid.: Fucked my arms trying to carry a heavy amp
12:32:52 Eliot Kid.: To the van around several corners
12:33:41 Eliot Kid.: And we went on our way and they dropped me off and then I went in, made a coffee and spoke to Stephen on Skype for several hours, before going to bed at like 3.
12:33:42 Eliot Kid.: So yeah
12:33:45 Eliot Kid.: Eventful
12:33:48 Eliot Kid.: Oh, and
12:33:50 Eliot Kid.: In the day
12:34:01 Eliot Kid.: Recorded a podcast episode with Jon
12:34:03 Eliot Kid.: So yeah
12:34:05 Eliot Kid.: Again
12:34:07 Eliot Kid.: Eventful.
12:34:08 Eliot Kid.: *smiles*
12:34:30 (F)望 Infinite Detail: Ah, indeed.
12:34:50 Eliot Kid.: Sorry. You were in it though.
12:35:01 (F)望 Infinite Detail: I was
12:35:10 (F)望 Infinite Detail: I feel honoured
12:35:17 Eliot Kid.: *rolls eyes*

Oh, snow.
Lovely, tender snow.
How I missed your sight.
Please don't go.
I like my clothes being all piled on and tight.

Whenever there's a hair on your Whitebook, you always notice.


Snow is so relaxing.
I can sit here and do work without any fuss because of it.

People should comment me more.

And I need more followers.
If you're not 'following' me, and keep coming back to this page, please do follow me.

And anyone who wants to design a layout for this half-arsed, travesty of a blog, I will be more than thankful.

Inabizzle.
x

Pah.

I've gotten to a point where no one actually wants to fight for my love.
It's just, I've got to be the one to always make the effort for people I only half arsed care about.

Who am I kidding?
This is shit.
Waste of time.

"Speculation is the true genius, and ultimately, downfall of man"