Career Girls, The Unorthodox Guide To …

Career girls, they’re young, they’re smart, they’re pretty, they’re successful.
Career girls are pretty great.
I serve career girls every day. As I serve them coffee and they talk about money that isn’t theirs and what their next “move” is, they look at me as if I have no idea what they’re talking about. I am a waitress, therefore I am a student or a blogger (ahem, I have credentials now, I prefer the term ‘writer’) and it’s very likely I don’t have a brain in my head, because if I did, surely I would be a career girl, not a waitress.

The thing is, I do know what they’re talking about. I’ve talked that bullshit, I’ve cocked that walk.

There are many things I haven’t experienced in this life, being 6ft tall, having wings, an addiction to pharmaceutical drugs, the crusades; but being a career girl, I have. However, I can’t point out to them that at one point in time I was a producer at one of the best productions companies in the UK producing adverts for Cadburys, Kelloggs, Burberry, bla bla bla …. I can’t tell them this as I hand them what they haven’t ordered, because it would seem very insecure, not to mention a little unnecessary.
Instead I add up their bill in my head to annoy them. I’ve gotten it wrong once, but the girl was too busy looking through me to notice.
I don’t mind much, I’ve done it. Because when you’re a career girl you have so much on your mind: you’ve missed a deadline, you have to fire someone, you’re in charge of hundreds of thousands of pounds and yet you’re behind on rent. You need to get your change and get the hell out of there, but not before …
“Oh, and a skinny latte.”
“Single or double?” I ask automatically.
“Double.”
They say this as if they’re being naughty; little do they know I’ve already had four fucking doubles and I’ll probably have two more.
Uh huh, and a cigarette. Bad to the bone, baby.
I have friends who are career girls, but they are fantastic at it, they glide through it. They’re the career girls that make you want to be a career girl. Their progress is effortless and elegant. I always had a rather clumsy air. I felt an imposter, and no one else seemed to find the whole experience totally surreal.
“You mean I can say yes to a goat being in a pantyliner advert that millions and millions of girls in Russia will watch?”
“Absolutely.”
“Fantastic. Get the goat my friend, that we can afford.”
Unfortunately, the majority of the time it’s incredibly dull and I didn’t have the patience for it. I would usually be found throwing satsumas at models or smoking whatever was going round the back. After witnessing a director punch his fist through a wall and an after effects guy have a mental breakdown (on the same job), I decided it was probably time to start winding the producing down a bit.
If you are not doing what you want to be doing. So should you.
Even if you, like me, absolutely hate your career girl vocation, leaving the security of a high profile and or well paid job takes a combination of balls, blind faith and stupidity. But if jumping off a ladder you don’t want to be on in order to snake your way up the one you really care about is what is necessary, then that is what you must do.
The following steps may not be the orthodox route to the top, but I’m not aiming this at those after orthodox careers …

Get a mindless part time job ….
However hard you try you cannot avoid the necessity of money (believe me, I’ve tried) but you also want the most time possible to work at your new career. Having a part-time job, a la student, gives you the time you need to put your all in to your new career and just enough money to survive. If your gut instinct was right (as it usually is) and what you really want to do is what you’re really good at, you want to have done two years work in a year, a year and half max; and jump on the new ladder a fair few steps up. In order to do this you have to be prepared to put in the hours, without the hindrance of out of office responsibilities. Having a mildly degrading job will also do wonders for your ego, having been working as a very important career girl at quite a young age you will inevitably have a slightly inflated sense of self-worth, no matter how hard you try not to. Chicken soup is good for a cold, humble pie is good for the soul.

Put yourself out there …

Take initiative, do some of your own projects so you have something to show for yourself and make sure they’re as good as you could possibly make them. When people ask what you do, do NOT say you are your part time job. Don’t be afraid to tell people what you are, or you are trying to be no matter how many stigmas are attached to your desired profession.

Be prepared to work for free …

… Only at the beginning. I know this is controvesial and in an ideal world we would not have to. But take a look around you, anything seem ideal here? Console yourself with the knowledge that if you get to the top, you can change this. And I would recommend asking for basic ammenities at the very least — food, travel, etc. if they aren’t paying you a proper wage. Appreciate any opportunities given to you while you’re getting started, accept all of them and do them to the best of your abilities. Once you start to progress in your new career you can become more discerning as to which free jobs you accept. There will soon come a time when you are offered one paying real, actual money and if not, know when to start asking for some.

Stay motivated …

This is what you have chosen to do, it is an exciting period of your life. There will be weeks and even months (years!) where it may feel like you are treading water, but stay hungry and have patience. The most exciting jobs are the toughest in which to succeed, it’s a good way of separating the wheat from the chaff.

Time’s a tickin’, so no matter what your job, if it’s not what you want to be doing and doesn’t make you happy then get out of there and start again. Don’t just settle for the money or the stability if doesn’t make you happy. Let’s have it all, shall we?

Take a deep breath and take a walk on the wild side, and prepare for it to be a long one. You keep at it, and you’ll get there.

Motherisms Feat. Vajazzling …

 

Having had the sensation recently that London had worn away my funny bone, I decided it was time to head down to Devon for the weekend for some regeneration. This is in the wake of my mother discovering life’s daily grind has worn away her hip bone, and will require some sort of robotic replacement.

The following is a summary of the sunny Sunday afternoon …..

We are at the beach getting a coffee, sitting and watching the masses. Mother spots a baby wearing a bib and says sanctimoniously and only half joking …

“You never wore your bib in public”.

We are sitting upon the cliff edge reading the Sunday papers, mother remarks, I assume in response to me donning a rather nice pair of floral shorts …

“After my hip replacement I’ll have to vajazzle my crutches for the beach”.

I wash my hands with some cheap, indescribably pungent peach handwash, I feel my mother should experience the stench …

Me: Smell that ..

Mum: Good god! That’s incredibly strong. It’s terrible!

Me: I believe it is “atomic peach”.

We are going past a house with some particularly appalling net curtains. Mum looks at them and says …

“If I were prime minister, I’d charge them, like a new window tax, they can pay for their hideous paranoia”.

Mum points at, from what I can see, is just a hedge …

“That’s where I got our chainsaw”.

I am a saint, and have recently given up sugar. Having eaten two tones of Turkish Delight in 6 months, my teeth had mysteriously started to hurt. I want to buy some coconut water, to further purify my soul …

Me: I’d like to see if they’ve got some coconut water.

Mum: I know why you want that, it’s the sugar.

Me: It is not the sugar! It’s the isotonics.

Mum: Whatever. I don’t care. Drink what you want. Some people drink their own urine.

 

We are driving back from the beach. Mum obviously has vajazzling on the brain …

Mum: What is vajazzling, I hear a lot about people getting vajazzled.

Me: I don’t want to talk about it.

Mum: Is it just covering yourself in Sworovski crystals?

Me: Um … Yes.

Mum is reading a restaurant review by AA Gil aloud …

“With virginal rice … that could only have been exciting if we’d shoved it up our arses. NO! NOSES! Sorry, noses”.

Mother is reading another review by AA Gil, and applauding him for his genius (because he says the same stuff she does …)

Mum: Ahhh but I shouldn’t like to meet him. You should never meet your heroes. They’re always a disappointment …. No, not always.

Me: Who wasn’t?

Mum: Leonard Cohen. Funniest man alive. Totally, totally cool.

I have given mum some food made by The Grocery, which has she devoured with relish.

Mum: That place is seriously good. You should open a branch on the beach in Devon and manage it.

Me: I can’t imagine anything worse.

Mum: No, quite right. Get someone else to manage it. We’ll just sit on the beach and bitch about people.

 

A man on the radio says “He refused to give officials information”.

Me: I thought he said “he refused to give a fish-horse information”.

Mum: What a magnificent creature that would be.

Me: A bit like a sea horse.

 

I am admiring the David Hockney postcard I sent to mother. I then spot someone else has sent her one, my Godfather …

Me: Oh, I see Jocq sent you a David Hockney as well.

Mum: Everyone’s sending me David Hockneys. I am having to fend them off!

I look at the two postcards for a minute and then remark.

Me: Mine’s bigger.

Mum is talking about her hip replacement again …

Mum: I’m having a heart transplant.

I laugh …

Mum: A hip transplant, whatever is it, I have to have a new body part.

Me: Mumbot

Mum: Yes, robomum. I might ask them to give me a pair of those spring legs while they’re at it. You know, those blades? I wouldn’t need a car, I could just leap to the beach. They should just give all old people those blades, let them spring in to the sunset.

 

Mum has a “new” car. It is shooting along the motorway …

Me: Yes, this is good. It doesn’t sound like it’s struggling going up hill, which the other one did.

Mum: Well, that one had an enormous crack in the exhaust pipe. You can get it fixed.

Me: Yeah, I would assume most people do.

 

We are driving to the train station, we don’t know how to use the radio in the “new” car …

Mum: Let’s play ‘Spot the Next Dead Animal’ to alleviate the boredom.

Me: Ok, I guess pheasant.

Mum: I guess badger.

There’s nothing for about three minutes.

Me: There aren’t any dead animals.

Mum: Hold tight, The Killing Fields are coming up …

I lose interest and possibly start inspecting myself in the wing-mirror …

Mum: AH! DEAD ANIMAL!

Me: It was a pheasant.

Mum: It was a pigeon.

Me: Pheasant.

Mum: Well, I saw it first.

We pass some hideous wind turbines, mum says wistfully …

“We should vajazzle the pylons. What a wonderful word, vajazzle. What does it mean?  Where does it originate? The Vajazzled Pylons of North Devon …. hmmm … PHEASANT!”

There is some rubbish on the side of the road. Mum is horrified.

“Where is your head at to just throw your rubbish out of the window. There should be patrols to shoot them. I’d man one. Get out of it, go home and take your trans-fat packaging with you”.

We are listening to the constant robotic apologies for the delayed train that, it turned out, was because of a bomb scare in Dawlish.

Me: Why’s it delayed? Because it’s sunny?

Mum: Sun on the line darling.

 

Mum is quoting a line as we wait patiently …

Mum: “If you want someone you don’t have to talk to, bring me Lady Jane”…

Me: Lady Jane Grey? The Queen?

Mum: No, this is Bob Dylan. Lady Jane …

Me: So, she was still queen, she was queen for nine days.

Mum: Yes, but Lady Jane is also a term for marijuana.

Mum: Oh. Yeah.

I don’t want to leave the car and go on the platform because I am seated and basking in the warm glow of the setting sun …

Me: But I have this lovely radiance here.

I look to mum, who has no sun in the driver’s seat.

Mum: Yes, you see why I want to move? I have been cast to the shadows and it’s no fun.

I have found a ‘To Do List for 2012’ I responsibly/optimistically drafted at the beginning of the year and am reading it to mother. It contains … Read more, get showreel cut, more writing, more money, relearn piano, try stand up, learn the basics of Latin ….

Mum: Will you add “Give yourself a break, just calm the fuck down, love mum”.

Mother, my funny bone is fully regenerated. I couldn’t bare to tell you, partly because I couldn’t bring myself to utter it and partly because you just throwing it around was amusing me greatly but, the definition of “vajazalling” is …

“To give the female genitals a sparkly makeover with crystals so as to enhance their appearance.”

I think you’d struggle with the wind turbines ….

An Hour

Fall in to the day, exhale the haze. Ashes of Arabic hashes oak smoked the tongue. Cycle the streets, chew on strawberry gum. Lukewarm, shades on, black lenses blanket senses, blinker the sun storm. Hasidic Jews crackle in black, a Kippa replaces December’s precarious hat. Soft drinks and ice cream and premature cider, trickled and dribbled and mingled inside her. Watch wintered branches shadowed in March’s sallow sun. Pop another strawberry gum. Slow steps race the sunset, through dusty windows watch its final blaze, light ignite this passive gaze.

Image

 

 

Yes, hello hello little mice.

As routine as disappointment, but hopefully less disappointing, it’s time for another round of Motherisms! Wahey!

Mum has just picked me up from the station, we are in the car. (FYI – neither of us would be considered as religious) …

Mum: I’m starting to get very angry with Richard Dawkins.

Me: I got angry with him years ago. It’s this arrogance he has I don’t like.

Mum: Me too, all atheists have it. How does he know, think you’re so smart Dawkins then how come the more physicists learn the less they understand fractals?

Me: Er .. yeah.

We are going past houses that that have been engulfed by luminous inflatable “santas” and epilepsy-inducing fairy lights, mum looks at them and says …

“Smells, bells and all in Latin. That’s what Christmas should be.”

My friend Jack, mum and I are now talking about the Frozen Planet polar bear debacle …

Me: I can sort of see why they’re a bit miffed, but I don’t understand how they can value it as something worth spending time complaining about.

Mum: Exactly. And more to the point, if a parent polar bear sees a predator they eat their babies.

Me: Polar bears eat their babies so the predators can’t?

Jack: Yeah.

Mum: Yeah.

Me: How does that make sense?

Mum: It just does.

We’re watching the choir sing carols at King’s College on television  …

Mum: Look at that stained glass, it’s to die for.

Me: Mmm …

Mum: We used to go tripping in there, great place to go tripping.

I force mum to go to Midnight mass with me as I feel I should have experienced it once in my life. There is a moment where everyone is told to turn around, shake hands and say “pleased to meet you” to each-other. Having completed this ritual with a few parishioners I turn to mum as people are starting to hug each other. I am verging on a freak-out …

Me: Well, can I say “pleased to meet you.”

Mum: It’s “peace be with you” darling. And no, this is all alarmingly tactile and Christian, I’m not used to it.

Later in Midnight Mass I have confused what I am supposed to be doing – asking for a blessing not taking holy communion. I realise this after I’ve drunk the wine. I run back to our pew, damned for sure.

Me: I drank the wine! You didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to drink the wine! Oh God.

Mum: I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Jesus was pretty big on forgiveness.

Completely out of the blue ..

Mum: I’m ashamed to admit it but I just love Happy Feet. If I ever go ga-ga and put in a home, will you make sure that’s on a loop?

Me: Yes mum.

We’re in the car, obviously not the most flattering lighting for me …

Mum: You’re very pale and spotty.

Me: Thanks, mum.

Mum: Well darling all London girls are.

Me: No they’re not.

Mum: Let’s not focus on that.

We’re peeling vegetables for Christmas lunch.  Dancing In The Street is on the cd player.

Mum: Now this is a good funeral song.

Me: Oh God! I thought I might at least escape your death on Jesus’ birth.

Mum: Nope. Sorry. No one’s stopping this party.

I am in charge of stuffing …

Mum: The stuffing’s awfully presented.

Me: It’s artisan stuffing.

Mum: Fuck off.

Christmas lunch is finally cooking, it’s time to take mums friends dogs for a walk …

Mum: Right! Let’s go dogging!

I look at mum in amused horror. She’s already turned to talk to the cat, in a baby voice …

Mum: That’s right Bob, we’re off dogging!

I am now in hysterics.

Mum: What?

Me: You know dogging has two meanings …

Mum: Oh yes. No, I do. Dogging’s quite big in Devon, people leave their boots on trees. Paul told me.

I am tidying up …

Mum: Did you hear they’d changed the voice-over woman on Master Chef who sounded like she was having sex with vegetables.

Me: No.

Mum: Now they’ve got a man who sounds like he’s having sex with vegetables. I blame Nigella.

We are watching a Christmas University Challenge ..

Jeremy Paxman: What quotes itself as being “gossip, fashion, and sex for the contemporary woman.”

Mum: A Kardashian.

Another University Challenge …

Jeremy Paxman: Name the city highlighted in red …

Me: Lincoln!

Jeremy Paxman: Beijing.

Mum: Nearly there darling!

I am trying on an odd cardigan …

Me: I don’t understand why they’ve cut off half of the back of it.

Mum: Who cares, you’ve got a great bum.

Me: Wow. Ok.

Mum: And it’s Nicole Farhi.

I’ve told the maintenance man to turn on the taps so the boiler doesn’t explode, mum doesn’t trust I have or he has, having driven off five minutes ago, she forces us to return ….

Me: I do wish you’d have a bit more faith in people.

Mum: Yes, well it’s never been justified in the past.

I put on Frasier …

Mum: I just love Frasier, if I ever go ga-ga and put in a home, will you make sure this is on a loop?

Me: Yes mum.

 

Mum’s reversed, not entirely concentrating. She accelerates to drive off. There’s a crunch ….

Mum: What’s that noise?

Me: We’re attached to the fence.

I had the most wonderful time mother, I’m sorry we argued on Christmas Day, but I’ve done some research and it turns out everyone did. We’re normal!

Make Poverty Hysterical (or mildly less agonizing….)

Poverty is the zeitgeist, it is just so. fucking. now.

So, ever the prophet of what is ‘in’ I have been experimenting with poverty for years.

Fortunately I’ve had just enough sporadic bouts of wealth to make sure I don’t end up sleeping in a doorway on Mare Street; but who knows what the future holds.

Much like segways, being poor can have an eccentric mystique, but it can also be quite hard to handle.

Here are some truths on the realities of poverty, and how to do it well.

There is nothing romantic about being poor …

Candles are surprisingly expensive.

 

You are a fountain of wealth …

Now, I’ll be perfectly honest here, no one wants to hear about how miserable your life is for longer than 10 minutes (max). End your tale of woe with a punch line and save your tears for a vial, when full, sell them on eBay as Jeremy Paxman’s.

 

Where there’s a Will there’s a way …

Get in with the rich and the old, and advise against a flu jab.

 

Like a leper …

Ok, you probably don’t have leprosy, which is a great start, but you will feel on the fringe of society when you are lacking funds. Money is a strange thing and without it you find yourself watching everyone else with different eyes, in its absence you see it’s overwhelming presence in our distorted version of this world. It’s become so habitual it’s almost innate. Retain this knowledge when your pot is full, you’ll be the wiser for it.

 

Tattered rags to rugs ….

A delightful shag-pile rug can be fashioned from your last shreds of dignity.

 

Seek refuge with the religious (and the homeless) …

As impious as you may be, churches are a sanctuary of silence and among the most reassuring places you can go when you are poor. Light a candle for whatever you want (I suggest hope) and relax. No ones trying to sell you anything you ‘aint buying here.

 

The world isn’t against you …

It just doesn’t really care.

 

Inanimate objects however, are against you and are prejudice against the poor …

The coffee you spilled, the table that you stubbed your toe on, the bike pedal that hit your shin, again, the cup you smashed; they’re all out to get you. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you you’re overreacting when these things bring tears of fury to your eyes. They’ve probably got money, and didn’t see the way that coffee looked at you.

 

Do whatever it takes to pay your rent …

With a roof over your head, you’re less likely to lose it.

Save the pennies ….

You never know when you’ll need a pound for the electric.

 

Soup kitchen …

A bag of lentils, some garlic, onion, stock, carrot and potato could feed the 5,000 and cost less than £5. Invite round Dirty Mike and the boys and you’ve got a dinner party, you trendy prole. Just make sure they know it’s BYO.

 

You will inevitably draw the short straw at one point in time …

And the likelihood will be it’s the final one. Take whatever it is as personal attack form the heavens above. This moment in time will only be amusing in hindsight, when you’re rich. Promptly buy yourself a packet of high tar cigarettes and smoke as many as you can. Why prolong your stay at Bleak House?

 

Every morning dress in mourning ….

Show life the grim respect it’s due and dress in black, it’s the best friend of the beggared. Better to look somber than cheap.

 

This isn’t a myth ….

There really are people all over the world dying and starving. Unless you’re doing both take your situation with a pinch of salt, then add it to your plain rice supper.

 

Losing weight? Become a well rounded person …

If you’re doing poor well, you’re spending your last 99p on refined literature not refined sugar and are therefore approaching ultimate wisdom (and emaciation.) Without a job you find a lot of time on your hands, don’t let them become idle. Take this opportunity to add to your attributes. Learn to play the piano, bake bread, write a short story (not a novel – you’re not planning on being poor that long) watch all of The Empire 500, read the poor greats (there are many of them). Do whatever you feel improves yourself. The work will come and who knows, it might come from one of these.

 

If all else fails just lie on the floor and wait for something to happen …

Invariably it does, just do it at home so it doesn’t involve a rapist. 

 

Make light of your situation…

Nothing brightens up a little squat hole like a few fairy lights. Shove them on your dead tree that you couldn’t afford (be bothered) to water and bask in its warm glow, saves on heating too.

 

Waste not want not …

If you’re on the breadline, why on earth aren’t you eating it?

 

“Awight gowgus?”

Next time a builder asks you this, stop and explain all of the reasons why you’re not. He won’t cost a penny and is therefore much cheaper than a therapist. So, offload on him, he’s used to a weight on his shoulders.  

 

You are not a failure …

And if someone calls you one, take it personally but do not get offended. Poor and angry is common (trust me). Hope they didn’t mean it and have enough faith in yourself to know that you’re not.

 

You’re making headlines …

You’re one of a record breaking 3 million unemployed! Congratulations! Bet your friends with jobs aren’t on the news.

 

“Take a load on me” ….

Learn from my mistakes. As hard as your situation may be, as many bad things that hit you one after another, if you are incredibly lucky, and have someone who loves you enough to share some of your burden (make you feel safe, feed you, keep you warm, make you smile  at your most morose…) stop wallowing and thank your lucky stars you have them. In reality that is a lot more than most people. But because humans are stupid and self-engrossed, we tend only to realize this when they’re gone.

 

Move to Zimbabwe …

You’ll be a billionaire.

Once you’ve exhausted this list, it might be time to swallow the pride, the ego, whatever it is and just get any job. There is always one going somewhere and it will invariably be more interesting, in whatever variation, than the dole.

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Motherisms Feat. Daughter …

Twenty-five years ago today I arrived on this planet with no idea what it had in store for me, or what the hundreds of other little people on it had in store for me. With no notion of what an idea even was, the sole thing I knew was my mother. So,  fresh out of a week in the womb, what better day for some Motherisms ….

We’ve had a birthday bottle of wine, I am rather pissed in the shop  …

Me: I need dried fruit, then I wont bemoan the lack of chocolate.

Mum: You can have chocolate.

Me: Not today! As of today I am an icon of health, albeit a completely trollied one.

I stride off towards the figs.

Mum: Darling, do try not to look like a mad person.

My mother is talking about what I should do with her flat when she dies ..

Me: Must we always talk about your demise?

Mum: We’re not talking about my demise, we’re planning ahead.

Bob Dylan is on, we’ve had an arduous day ….

Bob Dylan: The answers my friend …

Mum: Are blowing in the wind? Yeah, sorry Bob. Not good enough anymore.

Kingsford The Great hits the nail on the head as usual …

“It does not matter what you do, as long as you behave honourably to those who love you.”

Mother is talking about me possibly being a boy …

Mum: I thought you were a boy for a while, then you weren’t. Still a tenacious little thing. Survived that car crash. I think it’s why you’ve got anxiety problems.

Me: Because of the crash or because I survived?

We are at lunch, it is time for dessert and my mother is eyeing the trifle suspiciously, the waitress comes over …

Mum: Does the trifle have sherry?

Waitress: Let me check ……… Yes it does.

Mum: I’ll take it.

I had been upset to the point of anger earlier in the day …

Mum: How’s the rage darling?

Me: I’ve moved on to apathetic desolation.

Mum: Impotent despair.

Me: It’s the same thing.

Mum: Sounds better.

In regards to me wanting to be a writer, it is later in the day of rage, I have gone full circle and am back at rage ...

Mum: What do you want to say?

Me: A lot. Mostly I want the people who have fucked me over to be aware that, though I may not have said anything, I know what they’ve done. And make them laugh while I’m telling them.

Mum: Riiiiiiight …. You need to make a list of these people.

Me: How’s that going to help what I write?

Mum: It wont. It’ll help me track them down.

Mum about our old house ….

“Now the garden looks like a horrible little park in Woking. The weeping willow has gone, just nasty little conifers in situ.”

It’s pissing with rain, we are zipping across the hills, my mother shouts over Bob Marley ..

“Go crap car! Go!”

Debating whether we should do the Euromillions in the hope of aiding our imminent financial crisis …

Mum: Euro millions, we should do it, I’ve won it before.

I look at mother in bemusement.

Me: You’ve won it before? The Euromillions?

Mum: Yes, £2.75.

We’re listening to the radio, the Sugarbabes come on …

Me: What does that even mean?

Mum: What?

Me: “We’ll rastafi gonna be down low.”

Mum: Only God knows darling, and even he’s not sure.

A pissed old man reverses his old 4×4 for us with verve ….

Mum: That’s what I love about Devon, it’s wild. It’s where the fairies and the gypsies live ………..

We keep driving for a few seconds then mum points ….

Mum: … and there’s where Rupert Harvey pissed in the tank of the kamikaze car, got us all the way to Iddesleigh somehow.

Me: Okkkk …. What’s the kamikaze car?

Mum: Long story, his father was an authority on dromedaries.

A woman of around 90 walks across the road …

Me: Watch out! Old woman wandering.

Mum: She’s the same age as me!

Me: She’s got a good 20 years on you mum.

Mum: Is that what I’m going to look like? I want to die.

The adverts come on ...

TV: Tampax with pearl extract. Pearl, by Tampax.

Mum: Oh wow man. That’s going to make me buy it.

Me: Mmm … complete with sea creatures.

We stride in to the cinema full of gusto, ready to watch Jane Eyre …

Mum: I will have one human and one over sixty.

Ticket man: It’s not on ’til tomorrow.

Mum: Righty ho … See you tomorrow ..

Mother bemoaning the pitfalls of writing, again …

Mum: But you won’t earn enough money doing it. See, in my day, if you were in a relationship, you were a unit and usually got a house.

Me: Times are not so simple now mother,  you can’t just expect a house. We asked for equality, we got something in-between. We’re stuck in a horrible sort of limbo.

Mum has stopped listening …

Mum: AA Gil’s very good in The Sunday Times …

About her friend taking her in his Porsche Boxster …

“Incredible thing. Like a giants ejaculation.”

Need I say more ….

15 Ways To Leave Your Lover ….

If you have been embroiled in a love malais this may help you. Once an admirer of la doleur esquise, I am now jaded by it. As a sage fishwife once said to me “all this romantic melancholy is well and good, but it doesn’t butter the parsnips.”

This how to leave, taking pain in your stride and butter those parsnips …

 

Marilyn monroe once said “A wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe, and leaves before she is left.”

Man or woman, if you failed on the first two counts make sure you don’t on the last. Even the smart can be fooled a couple of times, but only the stupid wouldn’t notice the pattern. The leopard doesn’t change its spots.

When faced with someone who only wants you to have done wrong, you can do nothing right ...

Let them satisfy their martyr complex with false injustice. No point crying over milk you never spilled.

Don’t make a scene …

If ‘The Pocket Oracle and Art Of Prudence’ has taught me anything. You gain nothing from retaliation. The dissemination of a love should not be witnessed by the rabble. When gauded, hold your tongue, for it can be ferocious. Keep it clean to lick your wounds later.

Wear a hazmat suit …

To protect yourself from the fallout.

Treat them mean, keep them keen …

… Works a a couple of times times. Beware the game of cat and mouse. Triumph is not synonymous with power.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

If it’s never been you, at least this time it is.

Midnight break up and a dawn raid …

If for whatever reason you’ve had to leave someone you still loved, do it late and have something to distract you, the loneliness of walking the dark streets home is sweetly complimented by a battering ram through the door at 5am. 15 armed police officers should distract you from the pain, momentarily.

Dutch courage …

… Is sometimes necessary. Have a pancake, sorry whiskey, calm your nerves and say what you have to say. Don’t have too many or you will say too much.

If struggling to do what you know is best for you and what everyone else seems to know is best for you (run for the hills and never turn back) …

Think again of all they have done, and then of all they are not telling you.

Mirror, signal, maneuver …

Mirror …. Do exactly the opposite of those who’ve had their heart broken.
Signal …. People playing games always have a tell, observe the signs, they aren’t indicating anywhere pretty.
Maneuver … Now turn around and put your foot down.

If it’s as simple as you just want out  …

Don’t make it someone else’s fault if it’s not. Don’t pick holes in someone and chip away at them to dig your own way out.

Do to others as you would have done to yourself …

Force yourself to be empathetic at your most enraged. Put yourself in their shoes; if you could not forgive yourself and still think they have truly sinned, let all hell break losoe.

Hold on tightly to hope …

… There is a lot you will have to let go.

Don’t spend your life sewing a shadow on Peter Pan …

…He never grew up, and she died alone.

Close the door, raise your head and feel the breeze. It might hurt, but it’s still beating.

Licensed To Rewrite History …

For Gorilla Film Magazine

Feats of human achievement have been retold since, well, since there were
humans. We have always found a way of re-telling our stories, from cave paintings to ancient hieroglyphs. Our need to be remembered and feel significant in this vast expanse demands that we leave our mark while we’re passing through.
But ever since we have retold stories the human need to further better ourselves and be remembered as the best we possibly can be, has lead to the desire to exaggerate and fabricate actual events. Let’s take Jesus of Nazareth, not sure if you’ve heard of this guy but apparently he did quite a lot of good, so much good that 12 of his groupies rewrote and exaggerated his stories to the point where he became a God and published them in a book called the Bible, which I’m yet to read but have heard is excellent.

Dramatic license is more often than not about the storyteller rather than the story itself, the pressure to entertain and be entertaining while re-telling the story leads to what is defined as “the distortion of fact ….. the improvement of a piece of art.”

But it begs the question, is it really necessary? Does it need improving?

Granted the story of “I went to the shops this morning and bought some tea bags” may require a bit of dramatic license to engage your friends, but this is not a story of great human achievement and is essentially very dull. In this instance I can understand the need for a bit of hyperbole, but why feel the need when we’re already talking about something incredible, something worth re-telling?

Take Lawrence of Arabia. A truly brilliant film about a truly remarkable man. Laurence of Arabia is based on the life of T.E Lawrence during his service to the English army in the first world war. Lawrence was fluent in 8 languages, had worked as an archeologist excavating ancient Mesopotamian sites for the British Museum and thanks to his travels during university already knew the ins and outs of the Ottoman Empire and it’s German built and funded railway systems by the time he volunteered his services to the British army at the age
of 26. Not bad huh? But it gets better …. Lawrence was enlisted to pioneer an internal insurgence and Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire in the hope of weakening the German ally. Lawrence single handedly advised the Arab irregular troops on the plans of their attack, gaining their trust and respect. From the bottom to the top, and became the adviser of Emir Faisal (son of the Sharif of
Mecca.) He masterminded the capture of Acababa and subsequently the capture of Damascus and ensured that Damascus was under Faisel’s government. So,
why was a lone white Englishman who headed out in to the desert to infiltrate and persuade guerilla fractions of the Arab army to help destroy an empire and
take over vital towns not quite good enough?
The film has various elements of fiction running through it but one of the most notable is the crossing of the Nefud Desert. The Nefud Desert as told in the film
is considered impassible, even by Bedouins and in the film this is how Lawrence really gains the respect of the Arabs. He does what none of them have been able
(or stupid enough) to do. This is an incredibly important part of the film as he becomes an almost Jesus-esque character, which yes, it’s great, who doesn’t love
Jesus, but would we not be entertained by his story without this superhuman feat?

Well, for argument’s sake I would agree that this cherry on the fictional character cake of Lawrence is of great assistance to the film. He is super human, this God- like man struggling with incredibly human issues. Lawrence struggles with the violent acts the war forces him to commit, he in the same breath relishes and loathes the acts of killing other men, the nihilism involved in the act of killing is then contrasted by guilt afterwards. He struggles with his own identity as a man. Employed by the British government but feeling more affinity with the Arabs, he struggles with the knowledge that England will eventually, to put it lightly, fuck them over.
The film received criticism from Lawrence’s family for not being a faithful account of this period of Lawrence’s life but one of Lawrence’s biographers
argued “the object was not to produce a faithful docu-drama, but a hit picture”, in which respect they definitely succeeded. Though I do think it rather odd
to essentially take a man’s identity and say “this is great, but I’m just going to improve on it.” Like it could never have been a “hit” without these fabrications or “improvements.”

The Pursuit Of Happiness, uses dramatic licensee for the same effect, but instead of additions it is by omittance. Based on the life of Chris Gardner it is the age-old tale of triumph over misery, which is always a winner. Chris Gardner had an unsuccessful stint selling medical equipment, leaving his wife working double
shifts at a laundry company, unable to pay rent and his son in a shitty day care center. The story tells how Gardner loses his house, his wife and all his money but after a year of homelessness with his son lands a job as a stockbroker, sets up his own company and makes his first million by the time he is 34.
Gardner is by no means perfect in the film but he was a little more naughty than they made out. Though Gardner was an executive producer on the film, Will Smith’s portrayal of Gardner was something of a selective memory, to make it more appealing to the larger audience. Gardner in his more truthful
autobiography admits that he wasn’t quite the father he was made out to be in the film, neglecting his son for 9 months and having no idea of his whereabouts, selling drugs and taking coke, PCP and Marijuana. These things I would have thought are quite important, they may not be admirable, but they are important parts of his story; they don’t change it’s outcome. Surely the further you’ve fallen, the further you have to climb to succeed makes it all the more incredible.

The thing with dramatic license is, I can’t help but feel that we, as an audience are being underestimated. It feels like we are allowing other peoples need to entertain distort already incredible achievements. To get someone’s life as a script and in red, cross out and annotate their history. We are all human, we have all done wrong, we know what life is like, we have all had moments of triumph be they small or large, but none of us are super human. Do we need to be patronized by omittance and addition to enjoy the tales of truly remarkable
human beings? Are the stories of these people not exceptional enough without fabrication? I thought the whole point was that these amazing things had
happened; these people had done something worthy of remembrance. They are worthy of remembrance because they are a rarity, they are already exceptional.
So, as Robert Lowell aptly put it “why not say what happened?”

Satisfy your need for fantasy with Studio Ghibli.

How To Play The Game …..

I’m starting to worry about myself, more than normal; because normally it’s ..

“Why is the light so bright? Maybe I have meningitis ..”

“Why am I so hungry? Maybe I have tape worm.”

“Why is this eczema so bad? Maybe I have necrotizing faciitis.”

I’m worried because it appears (though I am sweetness and light most of the time,) I am angry at the world. If I was 16, this would make me cool, a rebel, a lone wolf if you will. I’m 24 going on 68, so it makes me bitter and slightly immature.

Things I really struggle with are death, misogyny and well; that’s about it. I can appreciate a smart joke about them, but the jokes are rarely smart so more often than not I fail to have a sense of humor about them. Whatsoever. And as the world is filled with death and misogyny it is proving to make me a pretty grumpy person. It’s not a glamorous grumpy either – it’s not a Poe-like melancholy, it is, what I think it’s called “ansty” in some circles.

A recent example of this is when my partner in crime said he was going to become more and more misogynistic the older he got. He was joking, but being a couple of glasses of wine in and having had a whole life of it, I failed to see the hilarious side and instead went on a mission to prove a point. We went to the local corner shop so he could collect some mead and pipe tobacco. I walked in and proceeded to objectify the male clerks. To be fair it was quite a brutal objectification and as my partner pointed out afterwards, they were quite probably Muslims.

Guilt was quick off the mark, but pride was faster as I hastened to add …

“When has misogyny ever taken in to account your race, your religion or your creed? It doesn’t.”

Point proven, with unintentional irony, I decided it was time to stop wasting time going around proving points because there’s always going to be something, and start taking steps to enjoying what’s good.

Having previously written a step by step guide to coming to terms with your mortality – what better time to write a step by step guide to start enjoying your mortality?

There isn’t one. It is now, bitch.

 

Know when to leave …

Whether it be a party, a job or a relationship. If you feel it’s time to leave, it probably is. Get out while you still can.

 

It is all significant, until you say it’s not ….

Shakespear, the old sexbot, wrote a wonderful quote …

“Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the moon. I say it is the moon.”

“I know it is the moon.”

“Why then you lie, it is the blessed sun.”

“Then, God be bless’d, it is the blessed sun: But sun it is not, when you say it is not: And the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it nam’d, even that it is.”

It is believed in certain circles (cool existentialist ones) that the meaning of life, is the meaning that you give your life. Your existence holds significance, the people around you’s influence is significant, the songs you love are significant, the things that move you are significant, everything influences everything else and it is all significant, until you say it is not. Because it is all up to you, there is no right or wrong answer collectively, only individually.  How you perceive it. So, pick whatever helps you sleep at night and don’t fucking go on about it. If you chose to decide we are all insignificant, understand that is only in your eyes; and visa versa.

 

Never trust the masses ….

Because the majority of people are idiots. And idiots don’t make for a happy life.

 

Don’t be a Martyr …

If you’re still here, you aren’t one.  The funny thing I’ve noticed is the people who have been through the most are the least likely to have a martyr complex. Funny that.

However hard done by you are, you should never be the judge of your own hardship. You will more often than not, get it wrong. We’ve all had bad things happen to us, they vary in their degrees but you should never feel worse off than any one else. Because thanks to life’s abrupt ends, everyone will experience an enormous amount of pain in their lives, it is inevitable, it just depends on when. So, whatever you’ve been through, remain safe in the knowledge that hardship does not make you great, how you deal with it does.

 

When you feel that all is lost, put ‘Metronomy – The Look’ on …

You will feel inexplicably happy, whatever’s happening. Put it on a loop if times are really bad.

 

Appreciate your friends …

And appreciate those people who are more than just friends (no, not like that) I mean those people whose true love for you makes your heart ache. Those people who forgive you for behaving like an unstable tornado, for saying things you shouldn’t have said, for treating you with nothing but kindness when you are at your lowest ebb, who feed you when you cannot afford to eat, who support you in whatever you do – however irrational, who are there when you call, who appreciate you. Because they are few and far between and you will miss them when they’re gone because you feel exactly the same way about them. So make sure they’re always close by and keep them close; restraining orders are nothing but paper.

 

Keep your wits about you …

If you don’t have sense of humor about all of this, you’re fucked. To put it lightly.

 

You are an animal ….

As cerebral as you are it’s important to remember this, wild thing. The best way to get down with your inner beast is through physicality, to be disconnected to your mind. I experience a great amount of pleasure going running and pushing my body, because it feels like something your body should be doing, you should be pushing your sallow limbs to move. We went around hunting and running and climbing once upon a time and that is still a part of you, your body is still designed to do that and what an incredible thing it is. What a waste for all it to do but plod from seat to seat.  Also allow it to feel some pain once in a while. In small doses it’s a comforting reminder you’re still alive. I can highly recommend a 60% slap round the face after some home made ravioli. Delicious.

 

No one you loved ever wasted your time …

Bob Dylan has a brilliant line “You just kind of wasted my precious time, don’t think twice it’s alright.”

Bob, the legend, might have got it wrong on this occasion. Our time on this earth is fleeting and precious but no one you loved will ever have wasted it. No matter how bitterly it ended. Yeah it would have been great to have spent that time with someone with who it would have lasted, you’d have saved some heartache but you’d have missed out on quite a lot. These loves may not have been the right loves and they may have had their pitfalls but it was the nuances of them as a person that you adored and these nuances will have influenced you in some capacity whether you like it or not.  You might have been introduced to incredible music, bizarre and hilarious experiences, new ways of thinking, you might have been told wonderful things, stories, met amazing people and you will have vicariously experienced different ways of living. And whatever happened at the end, you came out the other side. Though you may have experienced a sense of loss, trust me, you came out richer.

 

If you’re going to walk on thin ice, you might as well dance …

 Being the icons of responsibility and good time-keeping most of the time, we all have days when we need to go out, get a little wild, a little out of control. And if you’re going to do wrong you might as well do it right. Go all out, forget about everything and enjoy every minute of it. Just keep enough decorum not to vomit and reserved for blue moons.

 

Hope for a lot, but expect very little …

It’s nicer to be surprised in a good way.

 

See the wood for the trees …

Learn to see and appreciate what’s right infront of you. It’s incredibly important to have ambitions and goals, that’s part of what drives you, what makes you you. But don’t let this blinker you. Take a step back from time to time and take heed of what’s happening on the way, or you’ll miss it.

 

Dance, dance, dance …

You can dance. All you’re doing is moving your body. Fuck everyone elses ‘on-the-beat-slow-grinds’. You’re supposed to be having a good time, so have one. Just shake that little thing  like there’s no one around and no tomorrow. I was told by my 6ft2 Nigerian ex-boyfriend I couldn’t dance, but I still like to think I gave him a run for his money at the running man.

Bond with your blood ….

Your family are variations of you. You are bonded by something very precious.. Get to know, they can tell you a lot about you.

 

Learn to relish nostalgia like a good Turkish Delight ….

 It is hard to truly enjoy pleasant memories because of their transience. They were not necessarily generally happy times, but they are times that are lost to the ether. So because few of us are naturally good losers it stings a little. You will never be able to recreate it in it’s indescribable exactness. It’s sad, because it’s gone, but get over it and appreciate the romance of a pain that only life and love can bring about. It’s part of it. Better to appreciate it sooner rather than later. All of it, including the pain will be gone sooner than you know.

 

Follow your insects, sorry instincts …

Your instincts are usually right and if you don’t do what you think is right, you will never truly be happy. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t always be considerate of other peoples feelings and how your actions affect other people, because they do, but to be happy you ultimately need to be a little selfish. If your mum says you can’t be the next Chuck Norris but you truly believe you can be, then boy, you start getting so tough you make onions cry and tell your mum to bare with you. Because when all is said and done, you’re the only person living your life and it’s ultimately up to you to make it one you want to live.

 

Don’t be dickhead ..

Unless you actually have a penis on your face, there is no excuse. And even then, no need to be a cock about it.

 

Women! Stop buying cats …

 You gotta get a goldfish. Trust. Cats are selfish, self engrossed, arrogant and couldn’t give a toss about you. Do you really need more of that in your life? Goldfish have no idea who you are but don’t take it personally, they have no idea who they are either. Enjoy their incandescent goldness and take advantage of their short-term memories. They serve as wonderful confidents.

 

Get out of the city …

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Get in to the rural expanse. Living in the City all you see is other people, they are your only reflection of the world and you start to lose perspective on it. Step outside, there’s a lot more to it. And by gum is that a relaxing feeling.

 

Don’t take yourself too seriously …

No one else is.

 

Love Larkin about ….

At the end of Philip Larkin’s ‘Arundel Tomb’ is the line “All that remains of us is love.” It’s pretty self explanatory really. When you’re gone, all you leave behind is love and the products of your love, your children, your friends, your achievements, your keepsakes, your memories shared with other people. Love is a wonderfully complex thing, but ultimately should be pleasurable and held in high regard. It doesn’t come around twice. I’ve tried not to sound too sentimental throughout this, but now I’m going to throw caution to the wind … I genuinely can’t think of a more beautiful way to think about your death than what you leave behind, and when what you leave behind is an incarnation of your love. That’s big.

 

Smoke while cycling …

 …. Seriously. It’s just got to be done. James Dean knows what I mean.

I’m aware I may sound like a smart arse, but I’ve learnt all of this through my own mistakes (there have been many) and through other peoples; which doesn’t for a second make me clever, it just means I’ve learned ….