Happy Birthday bye bye bellulah

It's my one week blogging birthday. Over 150 visits (and only 37 of them from me), a handful of much appreciated comments, have discovered how to do links to words, to add links to other sites, used pictures and still working on making labels appear in the order I want rather than alphabetically.

Been wondering what'll be next. I don't even have a mobile, so, if I now have a myspace page, a facebook account (including belonging to a secret group that no-one outside can see!!), a blog...there must be a whole new world of interactivity out there that bright young things are already moving on from.

Funny thing at a personal level, the more time I spend in front of the PC the more I end up committing to things in the real world. Am now half way through a Masters in Psychological Research with the OU that wouldn't have crossed my mind without a random browse one day; have booked a trip to Vancouver later this year, to meet up with an old friend, and see the beauty of BC. Without the medium of electronica, I wouldn't be doing that; have agreed to climb Ben Nevis in September with a very experienced walker, up the tourist path, so should be fine, another PC inspired event.

This might surprise you...............RRRAAARRRGGGHHH

In answer to the question, "which one word would your friends use to describe you?", it seems the common consensus around here is SCARY.

I thought they were joking. Their meek half-smiles suggested differently.

"Scary? Scary? What the fuck do you mean, scary? Why would anyone be frightened of me? I'm lovely."

"Sometimes..." "Sometimes, what?"

Inside my head is a calm and tranquil garden by the sea. There's a maze, a big milky, pearly orb on ornate gilt legs, a sculptured secret forest, a tiered lawn down to the beach etc etc.

I don't have raging issues. I do ask "Why is the sky blue?", "what would you do if the person you were talking to suddenly disappeared?", but it's peaceful.

But then we examined the evidence. 'slebs are the buffer the elite use to keep us proles in our place', 'bastard middle classes don't have a clue about the reality of relative deprivation', 'Boris Becker was my imaginary friend'. And, that was just yesterday.

Seems I might be harbouring a mad, reactionary sister under the skin. One that always sends thank you letters, swoons at the mere mention of Dick York's Darin or his lovely son Mike Patton doing Bacharach, loves ickle fwuffy kittypuds and enjoys a good hot spanking every so often.

I wonder how many of the people I know and love are actually somebody very different and I've just never noticed. My oldest friendships date back 35 years, the most recent, just 4 years. I'm not sure now if I could accurately describe any of them, in my head they're how they were when I first met them and any behaviour that suggests differently is out-of-character.

Roll on the day when we can download out personalities and try out new ones. Or, upload ourselves into other bodies. Firstly, I'd like to try Bi-1950's deb working as a showgirl in Vegas.

I don't care if a monkey did it

I'd like cy twombly wallpaper, big fluffy de kooning bath towels and Jackson Pollock bed linen.

A Grayson Perry dinner service and Rothko carpets. Lampstands by Gormley and Bill Viola's Messenger as my screensaver.

Maybe a spiegel im spiegel alarm clock, too.

I vant to be alone

Four years ago I moved to a house on top of a hill by the sea. 3 hours by train to the nearest M&S, franchise coffee outlet or pretty much anything global. Buses off the cover of "How we used to live 1950-55". Random local bank holidays, as and when.
It's not a village (pop c. 8,000), has an internet cafe (open Tues and Thurs 2pm - 5pm, and Wed 10am - 12pm), and a much-loved cinema (one screen in mint 1970s condition, the other a room with 24 chairs for 24 souls).
Watching the news, reading national newspaper Lifestyle sections, listening to the incessant whine of 'London types' on radio phone-ins, it feels like I'm in that other country where they do things differently.

And, there's a whole other world north of here. There we're the metropolis. We're where the action is. A couple of weeks ago we took a day-trip to Skye. 3 hours north of here. 3 hours back. Through a 1,000 year old time tunnel of mountains, moors and lochs emerging into a rainbow-gated, whisky-scented cloud kingdom. Still UK '07, but, I tell you, if I was a native, I'd wonder wtf Westminster, hose-pipe bans, the successful Olympic games bid ..... had to do with me and my life. Any more than Sarkozy, Californian forest fires or Helsinki 2007.

At 244.9 people per sq km the UK is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. What a selfish, heady joy to live where it's possible to drive, without hesitation, deviation or repetition, for 6 hours, (hot running water and lectricky at both ends), and still wonder if you're unwittingly IT in a gigantic game of hide and seek.

away from the things of man

Take me away
to a roche mountonnee
unwrap me
reduce me
fucking seduce me

All that I long for
all that I ask
don't make me love you
and don't bring me back