self marking

Scott,

When you wake up tomorrow,

The mark on your arm is the love of you when you're drunk and euphoric.

There IS a message and a reason.

You have given up on yourself. You have been looking at your life as overdue, spent, playing catchup to *something*.

This is the future calling.

This is the future calling.

It's a big old world out there.

You're 27.

You're not doing so badly.

You do need to consolidate your position, but not in the way you're thinking.

This is the future calling.

You're still young and full of spunk.

You're still full of hate and fun and bile and destruction.

There is, still, NOTHING that can stop you.

You just need to remember that.

REMEMBER.

EVERY TIME YOU OPEN YOUR EYES, REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.

KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

WE ARE THE END, SMILING.


When you wake up and read this, the message is this:

We're still young.

We can STILL do ANYTHING.

Absolutely nothing can stop us.

You needed a reason to make good on yourself.

Well, here you go - another burn - another scar that won't be gone in five years.

This one MEANS something.

WE CAN BE ANYTHING!

WE CAN BE EVERYTHING!

YOU ARE NOT SUDDENLY DEAD BECAUSE YOU'RE OLDER THAN YOU THOUGHT YOUR PRIME WAS.

YOU DO STILL BURN AND HATE AND FIRE AND FIGHT.

YOU ARE STILL A TWAT.

YOU STILL HAVE THE ABILITY TO CHANGE THE WORLD. YOURS AND EVERYONE ELSE'S.

NEVER GIVE UP.

NEVER STOP THINKING THAT THE NEXT BREATH YOU TAKE IS THE ONE THAT CHANGES THE WORLD.

WE WILL BE EVERYTHING WE WANT TO BE.

This is the future calling.

This is the future calling.

You've made a mess of yourself.

So now you have to take responsibility and make something good from the fuckup.

Rescue yourself.

Stop yourself falling.

This is the future calling.

This is the future calling.

NIN: right where it belongs

see the animal in his cage that you built
are you sure what side you're on?
better not look him too closely in the eye
are you sure what side of the glass you are on?

see the safety of the life you have built
everything where it belongs
feel the hollowness inside your heart
and it's all
right where it belongs

what if everything around you
isn't quite as it seems

what if all the world you think you know
is an elaborate dream

if you look at your reflection
is it all you wanted to be?
what if you could look right through the cracks
would you find yourself
find yourself afraid to see

what if all the world's inside of your head
just creations of your own
devils and your gods
all the living and the dead
and you're really all alone

you can live in this illusion
you can choose to believe
you keep looking but you can't find the words
while you're hiding in the trees

what if everything around you
isn't quite as it seems
what if all the world you used to know
is an elaborate dream

if you look at your reflection
is it all you wanted to be?
what if you could look right through the cracks?
would you find yourself
find yourself afraid to see

break

another fine fuckup i got myself into.

another night were I was well on the way to destroying myself.

and i listened to 'break'


and i can deal with everything.

history of guns: thank you guys. this has saved my head a good few times.



bed. somehow. if I can.


actually, I need another drink.


just one more drink.



and tomorrow, i get to deal with liz finding out i've got all fuckup.

and I no longer know how to deal with this.

i don't know how to express to my girly that she's the thing that keeps me the right side of the rails, always, constantly, but that i can't stop myself being a wreck.

i feel guilty for still being bust-up.

i've had more than long-enough to fix myself. to grow up.

i shouldn't continue to be a recurring burden to this girl i love.

i miss being seperated, feeling like i was single.

for all the loneliness, i was, at least, far enough away from the only person i didn't want to infect with my problems.

now i get to be distraught and fuckup in suburban hell.

crazyhead fuck-kid sandwiched between octogenarians and young professionals.

alone all day and night.

just me and this screen and my alcohol problem.

i don't feel happier than when i'm drunk.

so fucked i can't remember what the problem was.

just that i don't feel comfortable trying to sing about it any more.

i miss the warehouse.

i miss the dog.

i miss my housemates.

i love my liz more than i love breathing. i just don't know how to reconcile it all and keep on ticking.

sometimes i think i could handle things better alone.

alone, you only have to stab yourself.

you don't have to worry about your fuckup spilling into the lap of someone you adore.

ah well.

at least i have something to be fucked up about.

keeps me off the streets.

something's got to break... I always thought it would be this way...

(no subject)

i am usually quite well adjusted.

i am fully aware that i am, on a good week, verging on content.

the whole last year, my nearing-content was my problem.

i felt that somehow i was selling out myself, the people who listened to my dirge and bile, the image of a serial fuckup.

last year, too, for the first time, i finally managed to shut my fucking head up and finally realise the girl i've had for so long really does, actually love me.

the explanation is pretty pointless. if you live your life unable to believe anyone can possibly find you desirable, you know exactly my feelings. if you scan this and think "the fuck? you're together for years, how can you not realise it's love?" ... you're the lucky fraction that hasn't had their personality moulded like mine.

the last year or so i've been within arm's grasp of bliss.

all i want from life is to be able to pay the roof over my head, a machine to rock at, money for vodka and that my liz is close.

so, recently, i have had it all.

nothing is ever simple.

i miss the warehouse. human contact. the dog. cat/mil/monkey.

i miss the rooftops.

man, I could get broken, write a song in the basement, then stagger, fuckup, to the stairs and grin my ass off across the roofs of central london, looking out over the warehouse.

god, I loved that place.

i know it didn't work for liz.

but that was where i was meant to BE.

at least i can write it off on my "list of things I want to do before I'm 30".

I still want to be there.

I don't want to be here.

I miss the lads.

I miss the space.

I miss the rooftops.

(no subject)

What kind of animal is this?

(worksafe)


(no, really, it really is just an animal)


(not even having sex with a skateboard or anything)


(really!)