Addiktion #41 - It's a New Year and I'm glad to be here.

So it's a little early, and a little predictable, but I've spent all week in bed and am forbidden from joining The Sister, The Bezzie, The Boy and all my other darlings in revelry tonight at The Social because it turns out that The Sniffles are full blown flu and I've been in a state of delirium all week. No fun at all.

I'm going to be spending my evening in with The Parents, arguing over the meanings of Inception (ULTIMATE FUCKING MOVIE, JUST INCREDIBLY LOUD) and whether we have time to watch Jools or not.

It's going to be amazing.

However, this song, and this particular performance will never cease to beat the traditional Auld Lang Syne in foretelling what the future's for. If you know it, please turn it up as loud as possible and go wild, and if you don't, listen close and listen hard. Every word is true.

Happy Fucking New Year, have an amazing one y'all.

Home Town Delightz #5 - Swish Swash.

Sometimes there is nothing nicer than chillin' with Pa in the early morning after a sleepless night thanks to the pleasure that is The Sniffles etc etc.

Having woken before everyone else, attempted to read one of my many course books (I'm still working my way through Glassco's Memoirs and loving every word), listened to a mixture of beautiful addiktions from my NightNightLife playlist, eaten a few perfect post-Christmas tangerines and drunk a fair amount of peppermint tea to try to ward off the inevitable headache, I ended up helping Pa do the washing up from the past couple of days (our dishwasher decided to pack in mid-wash on Christmas Eve Evening. And yes, I know. Ugh).

We have the bigger version of
this. It's too lovely.

Now that that's all done and dusted (I'm not allowed to touch the plates in case, God Forbid, I drop one) and the Aga is layered with Le Creuset pans and the cat has settled, I'm back to bed with my various course books and a desperate need to get rid of this God-Damned Headache.

Have a beautiful day y'all.

Home Town Delightz #4 - The Sniffles.

Zzzzz...

When you're feeling like shit with The Temperature, The Shivers, The Shakes and That Sneaky Bugger of a Chesty Cough there is nothing nicer that clean crisp white sheets, feather pillows, hand-stitched quilts and tea sipped from bone china.





After 24 hours spent moping in my freezing bedroom with what feels like The World's Worst Bout of The Sniffles, I feel it is most necessary to pay great thanks to Mummy Dearest for looking after me so kindly, The White Company for being so luxurious and to TheGenericWidelyRecognisedCoffeeShop for begrudgingly allowing me an all too necessary day off.


Now to go find myself some nourishing soup, a snuggly sofa and the cat to cuddle up with and watch black and white movies.


Na'night. x

Addiktionz over 2010 - The Top 25.

Happy Yuletide Greetin's Y'all.



Mummy Dearest took this on one of her festive wanders the other day.



Here's a selection of my favourite addiktionz that have emerged over the past year. 

Please, enjoy. 

Crystal Castles - Celestica

Cee-Lo Green - FUCK YOU

Chapel Club - All The Eastern Girls

Janelle Monae ft. Big Boi - Tight Rope

Die Antwoord - Zef Side

Rihanna ft. Drake - What's My Name?

Foals - Spanish Sahara

Darwin Deez - Bad Day

Eminem ft. Rihanna - Love The Way You Lie

Caribou - Odessa

Katy Perry - California Girls

Lykke Li - Get Some

Kanye West ft. Pusha T - Runaway (Extended Video Version)

Aloe Blacc - I Need A Dollar

Lissie - Bad Romance (Lady Gaga Cover)

Rusko ft. Amber Coffman - Hold On

Willow Smith - Whip My Hair

Beyonce - Why Don't You Love Me?

Sleighbells - Infinity Guitars

Lady Gaga - Alejandro

Hot Chip - I Feel Better

Cee-Lo Green - No One's Gonna Love You

Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce - Telephone

Arcade Fire - The Wildnerness (Interactive Online Video)

Pag - The Lady Is Dead

Home Town Delightz #3 - Bless 'Em.

Granny and Grandpa (the ultimate old codgers).

Napping in the lounge between present opening, champagne, bellinis and a frosty trip to the search.

My ultimate highlight thus far has been reading the yesterday's Daily Mail Gossip Columns to Granny. Too Good.

Addiktion #40 - Sometimes time's so slow.

Addiktion #39 - No One Knows.

Home Town Delightz #2 - There you are, you pesky rascal!

I love this thing.

So this hat has been my favourite thing since I bought it on impulse in Forever21's big opening weekend the other month.
It went mysteriously went missing over the weekend of manic travel between Brum-Selly-Home-TheBoy'sHome-Home-London-Home-TheBoy'sHome-Notts-Home. Inevitable, really.


BUT. I JUST FOUND IT. Tangled amid knitwear galore, that was also travelling about manically with me. Pure joy. Though I think I'll still wear a different hat laterz...








POST SCRIPT
Apologies to The Boy and The Cat in particular for unfair accusations of theft. Lav Yaz ;)

Addiktion #38 - Baby.Darlin'.DollFace.Honey.

Home Town Delightz #1 - Public Library Possy.

So the other day I was in the pit that is Nottingham's Main City Library. 

Amid the stink of damp, active asbestos removal, wandering tramps and flustered yet remarkably resourceful librarians, I was treated to the presence of two charming young gangstahs. They had the hoods, the swagger, the steez - all that shit. And were sat in the QUIET ZONE of the library of all places, loudly counting an astounding number of two pence pennies and reciting impromptu beat poetry to each other while the rest of us tried to ignore the unnecessary disturbance to our studious reading (I was engrossed in the Glassco's wondrous tales of 1920s Montparnasse, Paris).

Yet these two gentlemen proceeded in their chosen self-expression, an art form that managed to drag me from my enthusiastic page turns and captivate my curiousity. There were many a line that have eluded my understanding, and therefore memory, but these two men were saying something relevant, exciting and fresh.

"...governmentsandpoliticianstelltoomanyliez." 

was the closing line, which is all I managed to scribble down.

The pair then continued hustling about the bookshelves for a good hour longer, then politely approached each reader and apologised profusely to the dear "Sirs" and "Ladies and "Babies" (I was Baby) for making such a "damn racket" wished us all a "merry and marvelous Christmas break". With a tip of their hoods/caps they were gone.

What a treat. <3

Addiktion #37 - Fresh Scar Tissue.

The Sister played me this the other day. I've since been addicted to the entire album. And am desperate to hear everything they've done. The broad array of such delightful and surprising musical interpretations they have to offer astounds me.

Watch this space for many a new addiktion.

Hipster Narrative #6 - 'Irony' - Pretentious profound literary shit passed about on facebook.

Upon fleeting reflection of an enraged-exhausted-freezing-mid-seminar-fag-break discussion we shared last week, TheCanadianHipster linked me this earlier.

DAVID FOSTER WALLACE ON IRONY

Make no mistake: irony tyrannizes us.
Irony and cynicism were just what the U.S. hypocrisy of the fifties and sixties called for. That’s what made the early postmodernists great artists. The great thing about irony is that it splits things apart, gets up above them so we can see the flaws and hypocrisies and duplicates. The virtuous always triumph? Ward Cleaver is the prototypical fifties father? “Sure.” Sarcasm, parody, absurdism and irony are great ways to strip off stuff’s mask and show the unpleasant reality behind it. The problem is that once the rules of art are debunked, and once the unpleasant realities the irony diagnoses are revealed and diagnosed, “then” what do we do?
Irony’s useful for debunking illusions, but most of the illusion-debunking in the U.S. has now been done and redone. Once everybody knows that equality of opportunity is bunk and Mike Brady’s bunk and Just Say No is bunk, now what do we do? All we seem to want to do is keep ridiculing the stuff. Postmodern irony and cynicism’s become an end in itself, a measure of hip sophistication and literary savvy. Few artists dare to try to talk about ways of working toward redeeming what’s wrong, because they’ll look sentimental and naive to all the weary ironists. Irony’s gone from liberating to enslaving. There’s some great essay somewhere that has a line about irony being the song of the prisoner who’s come to love his cage.
The problem is that, however misprised it’s been, what’s been passed down from the postmodern heyday is sarcasm, cynicism, a manic ennui, suspicion of all authority, suspicion of all constraints on conduct, and a terrible penchant for ironic diagnosis of unpleasantness instead of an ambition not just to diagnose and ridicule but to redeem. You’ve got to understand that this stuff has permeated the culture. It’s become our language; we’re so in it we don’t even see that it’s one perspective, one among many possible ways of seeing. Postmodern irony’s become our environment.
All U.S. irony is based on an implicit “I don’t really mean what I say.” So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: “How very banal to ask what I mean.” Anyone with the heretical gall to ask an ironist what he actually stands for ends up looking like a hysteric or a prig. And herein lies the oppressiveness of institutionalized irony, the too-successful rebel: the ability to interdict the question without attending to its content is tyranny. It is the new junta, using the very tool that exposed its enemy to insulate itself.
The next real literary “rebels” in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat of plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Dead on the page. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naïve, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point. Maybe that’s why they’ll be the next real rebels.
Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the “Oh how banal.” To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows.

'Apparently the man himself agrees with us.'

Hear Hear.

Addiktion #36 - Baby, Please.

The Ultimate EndOfTerm Song. Innit.

Addiktion #35 - I think I'm Gonna Die.

The Boy Is Mah Faves <3 
Ain't down on lovin' any time soon. Innit.
  


...
You gotta write down what you know.

You gotta make sure that it's known.

You got a talent don't you know?
You're more talented than you know.

And you give it a shot
And give it the time
And be surprised how far it goes...

You got a few things on your shelf.
You got to look through for yourself.
You gotta choose what to read.
Choose what to believe.

And you don't take it from anyone else...

Addiktion #34 - Stop and look at the traffic signal.

I miss you, doll face. <3

Hipster Narrative #5 - The typical facebook jabberings of panicky literature students while adventuring On The Road.

RedFeltHatGirl: should not be awake and reading On the Road at 3am... somehow the wine and caffeine seem to have worked together beautifully.

ThatBlondeGirl [morning response to RFHG]: I woke up to my alarm an hour ago with the book underneath me. So basically I took Kerouac to bed, but didn't bother to finish him off ;)

Pretty much every one of my course friends/acquaintances have been fighting with Jack Kerouac's On The Road all week. I am in the same boat. I've not come to the end yet. I've been attempting to reach that final destination for over two years now.

Tonight I will finish it. I will get there. It has to be done, it's the last c20th American Lit and Culture seminar of term tomorrow. And the last Good Bye to our Inspirational Mentor.

Gotta get there. Kerouac, you're a fucking prick.

I've decided never to fall in love again. It's a disgusting habit.

Oh, RihRih. You just won't go away.

Okay. She's just plain amazing. I can't pretend I'm not wowed by her consistently any more (though will never feel as strongly for her as The Boy does. And no, I haven't bought him tour tickets for Christmas like he wants, bless him). 


She is everywhere. All the time. I don't have the energy to even attempt to list the ways. But I can't avoid it. She's tremendous. In every way. 


And I think it's safe to say that it was Saturday night's incredible duet that got Matt Cardle that Xfactor Crown, the lucky sod.

Addiktion #33 - I Should Have Taken Acid With You.

Brief Thoughts on Tonight's Pending Final.

I want Cher Lloyd to win. 
But I don't know if it'll happen. And I have liked all the others throughout. Even One Direction (standard sucker for the BoysInTheBand)


The only things I've heard as definite tonight are that Rebecca has Xtina. Absurd.


And that Matt has Rihanna. The Boy is gutted.




Best of Luck, Guys and Dolls!




WatchThisSpaceForARant... <3

Mugz Of Gold.

Hot blends of spiced wine, 'amaretto', 'rum' and God knows what else.
We drank far too much of this.

She's Gone.

DEFINITELY A MUST SEE IN THE LIST OF UPCOMING FILMS. I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED.

The wolf is coming.

You're gonna get what you deserve.

Hipster Narrative #4 - Dreadlockz cont.

Yes, I do have these kinds of moments every day.
But never on a mattress as pretty as that one.

Girl: It's definitely time to embrace the dreadlocks. I look like a dead junky, but it's cool.
Life: You could always waste yet more time de-tangling them with expensive products?
Girl: Yeah, I know.. But I kinda like it like this. And I'm too busy to shower. No one but me knows that this is all a lazy accident, people just think I'm really cool.
Life: Ahem.
Girl: Don't they?
Life: Ahem. 
Girl: Don't they?! I mean, it's not my fault that hair dye ruins all hair, and that I was born with pathetic wisps sprouting from my scalp! That take SEVEN YEARS to get to a decent length?! And than I don't have time to fix it every day?! And that I don't really care if I'm going to have to shave the rest of it off?! Is it???!!!
Life: Uhhhrgh. No comment. And wear a hat.
Girl: Okay. This one looks really cool with my VintageBeatenUpPresentFromMotherOfACoat anyway. See yah!
Life: Jeez.

Brief BBC Reflectionz - Never Mind The Buzzcocks.

Tonight's episode (just aired) was a pleasant surprise following the promising mess of last week's show, fronted by The Devil (Tim Westwood).


Tonight's Star, Diana Vickers continues to prove that she's not just TheAnnoyingPrickOffXfactor anymore. A very funny, very intriguing girl. I like her point of view. And I'm proud to admit that most of the time, she tops the likes of TheLegs, Pixie Lott, especially in the EverHeighteningFashionStakes.


We are also graced with TheEverBemusingHoosiersFrontMan, Irwin Sparkes. There's just something to like about him, especially when I remember just quite how tiny he is in the flesh (You know what they say, TheBiggerTheHead,TheBiggerTheStar). 

TheIrritatingGuestHost, Lee Mack, redeemed himself last night, with great thanks to the help of The Babes -Noel Fielding and Phill Jupitus. 


I'm sorry (for them) to say that ThePatheticYetAlmostHeartWarmingFameChaser, Andrew Stone, and MildlyBoringAndSaddeningComic, Jon Richardson, were definitely TheWeakerGuests, though charming in their own right. I guess...

Hipster Narrative #3 - Rapid KoolKid FB Conversations with The Sister.

20:21
get hip to hand make it

they're love that shit

 

20:22

what you said makes no grammatical sense

 

20:22

**him **they'll

hahahahahaha

A Polite Response To The KoolKids Across The Road - Ah cheerz guyz. Cheerz.

So it's taken me literally ALL day to sit down and read seven pages of a dense literary text that I should have had completed and reviewed by week six. It is now week ten. 

I finally got to point of concentration. A point of zen, of calm, of total acceptance of the chaos that is my room, house, location, body temperature, hair cut, pyjamas, etc.

I had FINALLY gotten there. It felt good. It felt like the future. Like something more than these constant self-indulgent and ever-distracting blog posts. It felt good.

This is all that has lasted the months of damp and cold
and chaos. This is my Peace and Quiet.

But. Some presumably charming young students, I'm guessing they be koolandshit, I probably know half of them for their DamnFineCaps and MightySteez, decided to start The Party. 


But. It's in the middle of the road (I think, there are a lot of MightyFineVehicles out there). 
Or if not in the middle of the road, in the middle of one of the most dense student areas in the UK. Victoria Halls, We Salute You. 
We live and breathe students here. Parties, yeah. Do it. Innit.


But. At 5.01pm in the afternoon? At the most stressful time of the year for us all? Deadlines have hit? But because you're a fresher it doesn't matter that you interrupt EVERYONE on their way to and from the library?
AT FIVE IN THE AFTERNOON?! REALLY?! 


My window, curtains, chair and whole body and feeling the beautiful vibrations of a SeanaPaula remix of some sort. I'm sure the place is bangin'. I'd be there in a second.


But please guys, could you turn it down? Just a little bit? So I can sit in my bed with my book and drown you out with the delicate tones of Bon Iver? Or not?


Oh? What's the I hear? Has some nasty security guy come in and told you to turn it down? Perhaps even the nice community police officers I met today?
Ah. Well that's nice of you. It's just my window that's shaking now, not me. Okay. That's better.


Or not? Did I just hear the volume being sneaked back up? Are these shivers? Or shakes? Or just the SIKASFUK BASE driving me wild?


Oh is that it going back up even further? Well, Why the hell not at 5.06pm on a freezing cold and miserable Thursday?


I give up. Have fun. I'll probably be round to crash it later. Save me some shit.


...


OHHHH. OR NOT? Can I return to the tranquil peace I've been striving for?!
I hear what now feels like a peaceful silence. Just the calm and collected hustle and bustle of the library run. No cheap dubstep imitations. No grotesque references to bodily functions. I can't take that right now.
It's all over. Our taxes are clearly worth it. 


Sorry guyz.
BUT DEAL. 

A Concise Response To SellyOak's Finest, The Community Police.

Pity

Not to be confused with Empathy, Sympathy, or Compassion.

 

Pity evokes a tender or sometimes slightly contemptuous sorrow or empathy for people, a person, or an animal in misery, pain, or distress. People who have previously experienced the pain or misfortune in question may feel greater pity.

Addiktion #32 - We don't know where to stop.

What Ever Happened To My Rock 'n' Roll?

The Boy and I have tickets to see BRMC tonight. We can get them refunded any time due to a last minute date change (THE BASTARDS). I've never seen them live before. The Father and I have been big fans since I was little. They make an excellent soundtrack to the highs and lows of pre-pubescent life.

I'm dressed for it. I even had some food (I am back to being TheCrepeMaster again). 

But I'm tired. And messy. And my head hurts. And it's cold out there. And I need to read up on Gatsby. And everything else in The World.

Hmmmmmm...

I think I'll go. I love loud gigs. And I miss them. The Head Banging. And The Leather. And The Lace.

Especially when The Duke Spirit are supporting.

Hey Boy! Wait up!

My Darlings, I miss this.

Festive Recipe #2 - Savoury Buckwheat Crepe-Style Pancakes.

For Later...

Friendz.

BoomBear. A collection of creative minds based in the UK.
Some of them are Good Friends.

Please, My Dear Ones, check them out. I think I'll be getting involved some time soon. 


Watch this space.

I Want Never Gets.

The Boy linked these earlier. Definitely one for The Wish List.

And still, I dance for you.

The Ghosts from The Past will always lurk in The Dark Places. The Light comes from Those Dark Places. But They will send Their People out to try to take It away when all else fails.

Please. Don't let them take It.

POST SCRIPT

Please Old Ghosts. Leave me alone. I want nothing of what you can give me, not any more. The Light is right here, all around. You shall have none.

Yet Another Vague Plan To Go And Be Inspired by an Indie Movie.

I think the main reason I want to go see it is for the love story. These central couple are now actually married. How inspiring is that? 

Oh! Paris!

Yet again, That City calls for me. I yearn, ache, burn, scream and dream to be there.

It all feels too inspiring for words right now, I haven't even watched one of his films yet. 
So instead, I'll allow the chirpyandcharming Claudia Winkleman and her team sum it up nicely in celebration of the 50th Birthday of Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless.
[Kids, be sure to click-this-quick if you haven't seen any of this season, this is a particularly nice episode and the link expires tomorrow at 11.24pm GMT. It's also a beautiful) 


How have I not seen any of this man's work before?! How have I not listened to the dear ones around me when they tell me I have to see this pure, ground-breaking art?! 
Please, My Darlings, educate me further. I beg you.

Happy 80th, Babe.

POST SCRIPT
This is pretty much everything I'm passionate about in terms of expression - especially in film. (Watch this space for extended raves about modern-day reinterpretations of Singin' In The Rain and the like. Only this morning TheMusicalsTwin and I got really excited about it when prepping for our terribly stressful presentation and ended up rambling about Lady Gaga and VW rather than run through the plot like every other disillusioned student might. It was SpectacularSpectacular!

Hipster Narrative #2 - A typical facebook session panic attack in the life of a wide-eyed and aspirational arts student.

Girl:
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
FACEBOOK HAS A WHOLE NEW PROFILE SYSTEM?! JUST ON THE INTERNET'S BUSIEST TIME OF YEAR?!
AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THIS CHANGE?!
AND IT LOOKS SO DIFFERENT?! AND YOU CAN DO EVERYTHING EVER EVER IN THE WORLD?! AND TAKES SO LONG TO LOAD?!
HOW IS MY COMPUTER GOING TO LIVE THROUGH THIS CHANGE? AND FIGHT WITH INTERNET EXPLORER? AND GOOGLE CHROME?! AND NOT LOSE ALL MY PHOTOS?! AND ALL MY FILES?!
HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING TO LIVE LIFE SUCCESSFULLY?!

Life:
Ugh. Deal.
Just do it. You're just gonna have to struggle with the old one til you get the new one going, like you've been doing for the past few weeks babe. It'll be fine.

Girl:
I HATE CHANGE. I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS. FACEBOOK USED TO BE MY ESCAPE. NOW IT'S JUST A METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE. AGHHHHHH.

Life:
Deal. Just do it.

Girl:
Okay.

Life:
[silently stares at a huge computer screen, taking in way more important things]

Girl:
Oh it's working fine now. Way quicker. But I still don't like this. I miss the old facebook. It felt like home. I feel sad.

Life:
Ugh. Deal.

Girl:
Yeah, you're right. I look hot in that picture anyway...

Addiktion #31 - I'll wear your black eyes. Bake you apple pies.

I'll always be by your side, even when you're down and out.

Addiktion #30 - The ArchAndroid.

Darling, we love you.

A little birdy tells me that Janelle Monae has announced details of a short UK tour next year.

Kicking off in Bristol on February 24th, she'll call off in Birmingham, Glasgow and Manchester before headlining London's Roundhouse on March 1st.

The full tour reads:
February
24 Bristol O2 Academy
25 Birmingham HMV Institute
26 Glasgow O2 Academy
28 Manchester Academy
March
1 London Roundhouse