Foxy

So the youth work seminar was pretty damn cool. It's apparent that the issues I addressed a few entries ago - OH FUCK IT.

I got offered a job!

While re-filling my coffee mug during a brief recess, a lady came up to me and asked if I was a youth worker. Now technically, I'm not. I'm a student, with some experience of being a youth worker - and I made sure that was the first thing I said.

The second thing she said was that she runs a group in Torpoint and was looking for a male youth worker, two nights a week, paid; someone creative and outgoing.

I took her card, met some of her team who had come to the seminar and arranged to get in touch to meet the rest of them.

Okay, so it's not in the bag yet. I haven't got a job as a youth worker.

But it looks pretty damn promising.

I just received a lovely e-mail from Marc, the first youth work I actually met and really identified with. He used to be in the army and he's from Chicago, but don't let that fool you - he's a very nice guy! He was the only one to graduate from the uni I'm at on the Masters Youth Work course with a distinction. Nothing wrong with a bit of friendly rivalry. *headbutt* ;)

He does what's called detached youth work, which involves going to young people's 'hot spots' (parks, hang outs etc) and interacting with them, providing them with the knowledge that, for example, there's a youth club round the corner, or a cool music venue that's free just in town etc. In Berlin, he approached a group of neo-Nazi skinheads and, if I remember correctly, a few of those guys are now, well, not neo-Nazis. I find that awesome. I have a great deal of respect for this guy.

He helps mark assignments at uni - yeah, he actually is that good!- and I know I come up in conversations between himself and my tutors:

Hi Foxy,

'Hope you are enjoying the beginning of the course and all is going well. What do you think so far? I ask about you when I stop by Uni, and am always proud with the great feedback you receive. Not to sound too cheesy but am really happy with you becoming a youth worker because the service needs youth workers you have such a strong value base that is engrained in all aspects of their life. I expect great things from you...but no pressure......oh and if you end up with better marks than me I would honestly be proud.


Got my morning off to a nice start, that's all. Considering my general mood is going up and down every ten minutes, don't mind me while I re-teach myself to focus on the positives for a while.

Seminar now.

So I guess some people may think youth workers just sit around in youth centres, make coffee, chat with some teenaged miscreants and then go home with a nice pay cheque. Well, only the last bit is true, but remuneration was only a partial factor when I chose this career.

Our lectures are never lectures. They're more like informal debates. Each week, we are given a sneak preview at the tutor's PowerPoint presentation (extensive) and a reading list (expensive) and then we come back the week after with the set topic in mind and, hopefully, a few opinions of our own.

Today we were discussing the Government's 'green paper' called Transforming Youth Work. It's a set of standards and targets which New Labour have conveniently appropriated as their own. Shoe-horned between the formalisation bullshit, there's a few of Bernard Davies'* suggestions for an informal youth work curriculum.

The bottom line is: it's a load of shit. And I was very vocal about it today.

While the positive aspects of statutory reform means that centre-based (youth clubs, the LGBT group etc) secure funding every year, it means that voluntary organisations, who have to fight for their money per annum anyway, have even less chance of surviving. Another of the objectives of this reform is ensuring all youth workers are equally skilled, through training and qualifications - beneficial for people like myself, but there are still those volunteers who only have one night a week to spare, who may feel disinclined to continue. Courses cost money.

And while the green paper finally gives youth workers a chance to stand up to social workers et al and show that they do not, in fact, just sit around in youth centres, that we are actually professionals, I feel it detracts from the essentially informal nature of the job. There are so many unplanned outcomes when you work with young people that to pretend you can account for them all on paper is ludicrous. Intrinsic to the job is communication; and we have to 'go with the flow', leaving out any prejudices or leading/misleading opinions, to facilitate the young person's expression, their voice. You can't get all that down on paper before a session.

But it really gets up the crack of my arse, when we're told about 'targeted groups' and how they must be compartmentalised. So you have one group for the gay boys, one for the gay girls; one for those with ADHD, another focussed those with dyslexia. Help the NEETs (Not in Education, Employment or Training), they say. You know, those problem kids who have nothing better to do than hang arond bus shelters in hoodies, looking for their ASBO. Or something. Bullshit.

Seriously, these are actually actual guidelines which, unfortunately, are left open to interpretation for youth workers who can't be bothered, those who just want to tick some boxes, get a few Duke of Edinburgh Awards out the door and go home. They're the ones who have their salaries at the top of their list.

But there's more. The government couldn't give a toss about the young people and the vast array of problems they (we?) face/d growing up. Let's talk abut those NEETs again. They're not working, training or in school - so in order to win the next election, New Labour set out to force these lazy layabouts back into the nearest niche they could fit into, to fatten up their polls. Tackling unemployment is a good thing for any government to do, of course, but hijacking what was a process-focused field where bureaucracy had no place... and shoving fucking OFSTED, of all people, down youth workers' throats? There's surely a better way.

In fact, of course there is. Because although each and every government can talk, they're all gob and no knickers. Remember that ever so secure funding I spoke about at the beginning? Each local authority is supposed to have been granted a sum 'per head' for every young person - has that happened? Has it buggery. It was deemed 'a guideline'. So when the class of 2010 at Marjons graduates, we intend to treat the whole thing as a 'guideline'.

The class, the tutors and myself all agreed that to sacrifice the potential for a diverse youth group, simply to facilitate some governmental public masturbation would be, well, not exactly in anyone's best interests.

One of my central beliefs is that young people need a context, a comparison. Unfortunately, we do not all come to the table equal. But that doesn't matter. If they're going to come to centre-based youth work, it needs to be open to all, regardless of ability, sexuality (except LGBT groups where the young people's safety and confidentiality is paramount ie. no hetros), class or education. I've watched certain demographics of young people engage with people whom, in other circumstances, they wouldn't have pissed on if they were on fire. It's great to watch them find a common ground, make friends and gain some goddamn self-esteem.

Hell, if this generation of informal educators can start this generation of young people on a path to finding their voice and empowering themselves, we might be able to help change the world after all.




*Bernard Davies, very important youth work practitioner and theorist whose work I have been studying. Coincidentally, I have been invited as a student representative to go to a conference tomorrow entitled The Future of Youth Work. Im dead excited, and nervous. I've read this bloke's work; I love it. And I get to meet him and make a prick out of myself! I'll let you know how it goes. :P

I have no choice but to go to work tonight, lest I get fired, but I have cancelled uni for this week so I can recuperate. Halloween at the Potion bar in London was brilliant. I am far too ill to elucidate, but photos and a big blab will follow when I am less dead.

Happy (early) Halloweener. :D

Rrly rly bizzy dae, buuuut, enough time to shout about this before I go off to work...

Remember the work placement I applied for at the Plymouth Foyer for homeless young people? There was one placement left and four other applicants.

I only bloody got it. :D I am delighted!

Sorry, this is totally shameless, but I let Justin chop my hair up today and then I dyed it. I am really happy with it.

So we all know that Nick Griffin, the leader of the British National Party has been allowed to appear on tomorrow night's Question Time. What you may not know (but may have at the very least expected) is that Unite Against Fascism intend to stage a protest outside the filming location. They, along with many others, feel that the BNP do not deserve a platform or a public forum and that by giving them the right to speak on national British television, this will validate the inherently discriminatory policies of the Party. In their view, it should not happen. The BNP should, apparently, be denied the same rights as Jack Straw, Lib Dem MP Chris Huhne and writer Bonnie Greer - all of whom have accepted heir invitations without any fuss.

Now, as much as the words stick in my throat, and as much as following the BNP flyer woman back up my road and asking her to push the piece of garbage up inside her anus gave me a semi-erection, I have to contest the opinions of the UAF et al.

Of course Griffin should get his say. In fact, tomorrow's show should be extended to a feature-length film and the morning's edition of The Guardian should be giving away popcorn vouchers for its readers. Griffin should be able to sit there, state his policies, answer the questions and have the opportunity to stick up for what he believes in, no matter how unpalatable his intrinsic values are to the majority.

If he is censored, it is in effect brushing fascism under the carpet and saying "No, they can't speak like the rest of us, so therefore nobody will be able to hear them". That's not the way it'll work; the BNP will find other, more subversive ways of communicating their hatred. That carpet they were brushed under will attract rats. If we start to censor opinions because we don't like them, one wonders where it might end up. I find the idea uncomfortably comparable to the policies of the BNP itself.

In my opinion, dialogue with these people must happen. Nick Griffin and the supporters in the studio audience will be articulately and vigorously massacred. Logic will prevail over bigotry and the party's policies will be revealed to those who have not yet made their mind up about the BNP, as the vomit-inducing garbage they are. I still have a little faith in this country and, even if our next Prime Minister is set to be David Cameron, I do not believe that the majority would let the BNP control so much as a Nintendo Wii.

If you give the BNP their voice, we can have ours. And when it comes to our turn, a hand grenade could go off in our gobs and you wouldn't hear it, because we're louder and better than them.

I think it's safe to say, between all the vomiting I did (my fault!), I had an absolutely brilliant weekend. I don't normally update about gigs, but I have to shout just a little about VNV Nation's Faith, Power and Glory at the Islington O2 this weekend. I had no idea VNV could actually move me and entertain me as much as they did. I actually 'lost touch' with their music a few years ago, because it started to bore me. But then mr_laughing_boy twisted my arm and I listened to the latest album, then the one before that. I think it was safe to say I was impressed, but that was nothing compared to being in the crowd on Saturday night.

The cast list included a host of lovely friends, elegy_of_flames, hamsterhotep, angryngeltoo, and some new meetings too (hello, intothev0id!). Many Plymfags came up too, like my lovely friends Dibbs, Linda, Paul and James. There was no cattiness or bitchery that I noticed, unless you count my catching up with someone who seems to think they can be nice to me one minute, then shit on m face the next. They deserved every word! Meow. Slimelight happened (my GOD, did it happen); I saw Phoebe, this tranny I used to dance with a long time ago, but she didn't recognise me, which I found hilarious; bumped into the beautiful andromeda_x and I'm sure there are various other people, but right now, every muscle in my body aches like a war zone and my eyes feel like tiny dry beans.

"Let there be; let there always be... never ending light". Singing the end of 'Perpetual" for about ten minutes with everyone in the venue, while Ronan encouraged us. It was very beautiful, because at one point, I looked around to Dibbs, up at the stalls, at the stranger next to me... everyone was sort of caught up in this unified rapture of words and singing. I quite like the idea that we all went away feeling just little more human after that.

mr_laughing_boy, (<3) once again, you're just brilliant. I had such a good time that I shall stop trying to put it into words now.

Roll on Halloween please!

As a major part of my masters, I have two work placements to do. The first starts in February and runs for 148 hours (which I gather one can spread out or contract into time slots suitable for yourself), alongside a few lectures a week. The second one isn't until next academic year, but I intend to do the 12 weeks of that one in London. For this I have to find funding, or save up. Along with all the other things that come with doing a placement in another city.

I'm not so worried about the second one (yet), because I still have a fair amount of time to contact and liaise with councils and youth groups in London, though I won't get complacent about it. The sooner, the better! It was recommended that we do this first one in or around the area, so that we can be more easily supervised. So over the last few weeks, I have been in touch with what is known as the Plymouth Foyer. It is effectively sheltered housing/hostel/a cool place for homeless young people to live. A friend of mine lived there for a time when he had literally nowhere else to go (his parents had kicked him out, he had surfed so many sofas that he felt he'd outstayed his welcome). But not only is it comprised of self-contained flats and rooms, there is a huge IT suite and several rooms dedicated to classes to get people back into work, on their feet and in a place of their own. I like the fact that it recognises the short-term element of hostels for the homeless.

So I said to my placement tutor, Christine, that I'd very much like to do the first placement there. At the placement fair, the Foyer's representative said that they were particularly interested in post-grad students who could offer some sort of self-directed project; it seems they are pretty free and easy with regards to what sort of approach you want to take.

Academically, it is imperative that I spend at least 50% of the placement working face-to-face with my target group (not only in order to pass, but also the whole reason I am doing the MA part-time is so I can slot in as much experience as possible). We also have a separate module currently being taught to us on Tuesday mornings about how to successfully keep a reflective diary, how to be a critical of your own thinking and objective about your practice. There are, as always, 'learning outcomes' to hit and we have the necessary guidance to translate that into a work placement day.

So after a bit of prodding, the manager of the Foyer phoned me this morning and asked if I would come and meet the guy who facilitates all the work placements and speak to them about what I want to do. I'm gong to go in with a clear head and a few sharp ideas tucked away. But initially, I want to see what they can offer me, because there's no way I want to be stuck doing much (or any) admin work, or sat behind a desk for most of the day. I think the plan is to go with a few ideas and if they fit with what their plans are.

The meeting is at 9am, a time of my own choosing, so I don't the day to fret about it and I can spend the afternoon reflecting and planning, emailing Christine the tutor too. So, wish me well. At the most, I hope it turns out to be something worthwhile and invigorating. And at worst, I'll just find somewher else to go, I guess!

This is the Halloweener party:



Friday 30th October, at the Potion Bar

If you're in, or can make it to, London for Halloween, you should goddamn-well mother frickin' come, because it is going to be extraordinary. There shall be freaks and DJs (actual ones, GOOD ONES), and it's free, for fuck's sake. FREEE. There are going to be awards for the best and worst costumes too.

GET INVOLVED.

Now, get to bed!

My tutors send me the coolest things. A poem by Matthew Harvey which illustrates what we have been calling 'the interpersonal'.


The Gap

I’m hardly anything but I go on forever
People on the whole hardly ever, ever
Pay me any mind
But everyone knows I’m there
If they care to care to notice
Because I’m the gap
I’m the yawning gap, the awesome gap
The tragic magic slapstick gap
The gap between the maps
And the territory
Between the tabloid rap
And the real story
Between the charming chap
And the sleazy Tory
The revelation gap
The emanation gap
The generation gap
The hesitation gap
I’m the strange elusive space between
What’s really there – and what is seen
What people say – and what we mean
Between the outward calm – and the inward scream
Between the sense of duty and the secret dream
I’m the exact difference
I’m the distance between
So please, if you would
When the poem’s over (but before you clap)
Spare a thought for me
And

Mind the Gap

So that people are aware that I'm not just sat around fingering my fanny, I'm going to give little snippets of my days at university here. Just to recap, for those who didn't know, I'm now into my first week of a Masters Degree in Youth and Community Studies.

Today we had our first lecture on our first module, "Developing Interpersonal Communication and Group Work". I won't bog my entries down with a whole load of jargon you won't get (hell, I've got the course handbook and I'm only just beginning to understand a lot of it myself), but I'll try and share what I can for those of you interested.

The lecturer, Jo, emailed us a podcast she'd made last night telling the story of Rosa Parks (that cool black lady who refused to give up her seat - I'm sure you know the story). We were asked to consider "defiance" and how, as youth workers, we had taught it in our professional lives. Incidentally, we all have varying degrees of experience in the group, but that doesn't negate the class a whole - on the contrary.

At first, a few of us were put off by the negative connotations of the phrase "teaching defiance". Like, as adults we know that we can defy certain things (gender stereotypes, certain social norms, rules imposed by parents) and it won't be much of a big deal (legally and, arguably, morally). To young people, it can be hard for them to differentiate between the aforementioned topics, and, for example, the law against carrying knives or rules set by examining boards. To "defy", to a young person, may be taken as carte blanche for anarchy!

So after a brief discussion, we arrived at a few conclusions about "Teaching Defiance, as Youth Workers". namely;

We give the 'tools' to make decisions; we show that there are choices and options beyond what they have been shown by other adults.

As youth workers, we encourage young people to challenge in the 'right way'. There are appropriate types of defiance. It is also important to realise that some battles cannot be be won by the young person and to choose those battles carefully; we, as mentors/counsellors/workers, can instill a sense of realism.


So, through raising these points and empowering the young person to challenge (and thus also respond to the results of their opposition), we can help them become self-aware and to reflect upon what's around them. Through engaging the young person in communication and group activities, we give their experiences validity and help them recognise any alternatives they may have been otherwise unaware of.

That is a severely abridged version of some of my notes from today, so it sounds a bit jittery. But I hope you get a flavour of what I'm up to and what I'm learning. I'm making a habit of consolidating all my lecture notes every day. It'll help with the 3000 word essay assignment due in November.

Needless to say, I had the last laugh am enjoying every minute of this. Feels like what I was born for. Or at least what I live for.


Other Stuff

All being well, I'll be in London on the weekends of 10th, 17th and 31st of October. Yes that's three weekends in a row*. I start my new job as a part time Telesales Bastard tomorrow. But this is fine, because work placements for university start in February, so I won't be telesaling very long - just need the quick hard cash. Although the work placement is not salaried, I have been informed that there is at least one part time youth work job I have a good chance of successfully applying for in a few weeks.

I am, however, going to have to be very frugal with my money on these weekends, but sod it, I get to see friends, see VNV Nation on 17th, have a Halloween bash and, of course, see Chris. As a result, I am spending my weekdays concentrating solidly on uni work. If I am out of touch/contact or maybe a little distant, then rest assured, nothing is wrong; I just need to keep that balance of personal and professional life.

Hey, if it all goes right, I'll move back to London and into a job I love with a decent wage. But I refuse to think that far ahead in any other sense than: Here's hopin'. :)


*Um, a rather bendy 'row', as Chris pointed out. I need to learn how to use a calender propuhlee. Muhh.

I'm shit at photography. It's either "flash on" or "flash off". I couldn't decide which one looked best, so here's both!

Just a little update, O avid readers. I got back from London on Friday night at about nine o'clock, shoved my suitcases into a cab and went straight out for Kieren's leaving meal. Well, it was a meal for them; I missed the starter and main course due to a crashed motorcycle and a jackknifed lorry respectively. This meant I had to settle for wine and cake. This made me a happy Foxy. Then, after about 7 hours' dancing and wining, I was a very drunk Foxy. Still happy though.

And I'm happy now. London was a blast, as it always is. The sexy mr_laughing_boy and ever-beautifultar0r were as usual wonderful hosts, considering they just moved in. On Friday Jon told us that Visage were playing in Kings Cross, so we went to see them, only to find it was actually a band who toured with Visage. So we went to Garlic and Shots, bumped into Maxi whom I haven't seen in years and is still looking lovely and causing riots with his band. Then Chris and I did an awful thing and went to Slimelight on Saturday night. It was hilarious for all the reasons I cannot mention on a public entry. We may or may not have been asked to leave the dancing cage and take the other guy with us as well. What's the matter, Slimelight? Too spicy for ya?!

I bumped into Sammm Agnew, whom I haven't seen since last years Plymouth Westward Bound party. Due to the fact that I was so inebriated, I could only stroke her big hair and ask her thirty four times how America was. Who else did I see? Oh, Lexi, Oz, Jack... umm! Many people. And you know what, they all remembered me. After two years of effective radio silence and absence. It warmed my cockles a bit and makes my plans to move back after the masters degree seem not so daunting. :)

The rest of the week was spent, um... god this is really going to be a shorter entry than I first thought *grin*. Basically, we had fun. Broke some things called taboos (I personally have never heard of such a thing) on Tuesday and Wednesday. On a completely unrelated note, saw silveraj for the first time what has to be two years (right?) - and that was very special for me. Hugs to you, my lovely. Later that day, I think I spent about fifty quid in cocktails in Bar Sequence. Best margaritas I've had in a long time.

Even met up with geekr0ck, aka, Freya, who I used to live with in London and had a chance to reminisce and have a good old bitch about past deeds!

So now what's left until university? Well, I have a commissioned piece of work to get on with for mofette and a shitload of books which arrived over the week I was away. I have also a load of student loan shit to fill in a deal with, books to post (I sold stuff on amazon - who the hell pays thirty quid for a book about secondary schools?! Mwahahaha).

I'm generally happy. I have many things to be happy about. I learned a few new things though - or, rather, re-learned them- that sometimes I can be a little bit selfish or some across as, perhaps, a bit of a twat if I am unable to see people's points of view and the reasons behind them. Unfortunately, one of the things which rubbed off on me from some of the cunts in my life is the vague sense that it's "me me me, and if you're not with me, you're against me". That's not an attitude, thankfully, which lasted long; it didn't serve me well and I wouldn't have chosen this career path if I wasn't good at listening and empathising. But sometimes happens from time to time, mostly when I'm feeling tired and confused (what do you mean, that's whenever I'm awake?!), and I just want to sit and look out of a window and be a grump. As you know, I am very tolerant, have a lot of love and kindess to share with my loved ones, so please just slap me if some revenant ghost of cuntishness pops up from my past. I usually snap out of it ten minutes later anyway and then feel a bit silly.

So, I enroll on the 22nd September and I begin two years as a youth-worker-in-training and with the right amount of patience, planning and persistence, the following few years could be absolutely marvelous.

Must. Not. Fuck. This. Up.

I won't make a habit of this, but I thought I'd let you all know that I'm selling some stuff on NiceBoots. Here be the link.

http://community.livejournal.com/niceboots/6237124.html

So London came and went and left bruises and lovebites. mr_laughing_boy and tar0r were nice enough to put me up for a week - thoroughly nice, in fact, because in between sorting out jobs and finding a cool place to live, provided the most nommy chicken and the best week away I've had in ages. Thanks, you two.

Gravity was fucking amazing. I wasn't prepared for anything but an ordinary dancey-dancey club. But by about midnight, the place was filled with old friends (a few old enemies too), some familiar faces and some new ones.
ahura_mazda, it was fabulous to finally meet you, darling.

I think I danced for several hours, felt incredibly tingly and 'touchy-feely'; enjoyed some of the more bizarre elements of the night, such as Chris and I spending about fifteen minutes staring at a wall painting. "Dude, is it doing the smiling thing for you too?... Awesome." We got back to the flat at about 8am, was just about able to find the time to wash the Gravity off my face, before it was time to to Southend for kweilo's birthday.



Saw vixstar and missyk8, whom, along with the birthday boy, I don't think I have seen in about two years. It was really nice to catch up with you. Rose wine was drank, Chris and Tara played the longest game of pool I believe that I have ever witnessed. Then a bunch of body-modded idiots started throwing chips at the pigeons in the beer garden, sending them flying around, so I asked them to give it a rest. When one of them said "Oh don't worry, love, they won't mess up your hair", I replied that he should perhaps go and get another tattoo to make up for his lack of personality. Cockhead.

Here's a picture of Chris at the Saatchi gallery.



Here's a picture of chromenewt being the bouncy ball of joy and coolness that he is. Been a while, chicken! Glad I caught up with you again too.



There are many more photos on facebook, so I won't clog up your friends page here. Except for this one, because Chris looks so cute in it. Also, to give him another excuse to beat me up.



But there's no rest for the fabulous. I think my hairdresser wants the lowdown, so he's taking me to Voodoo later. Then I have to sit down and work out what I'm going to ask PETER FRICKING TATCHELL when he comes to OUR YOUTH GROUP next week! I am so excited I may dung myself. I have some things to plan for Gay Pride as well, and I'll be back up to London in a few weeks again.

Happy Foxy. :)

All I have to say about the last week is: Bollocks, big hefty bollocks. Week commencing Monday 27th, and the four days preceding it, can go SWIVEL on my cock. I'm going to resist the urge to go on about all the shite which briefly took over the lives of about ten people I know. I shall just have a cocktail and forget about it all.

In light of this, let's have a look at some good things.

Quakers Allow Gay Marriage http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/8177536.stm

I have nothing to say about that, except for "Big bloody yay". When I read that, I thought somebody had made a typo, substituting 'allow' for 'denounces, rejects and calls for a good ol' fashioned burning at the stake. But actually, upon doing some research (for once), I'm not surprised. The Quakers appear to be actually rather nice people - and I know a lotof my friends have some very strong views on religion- but I like the way that one of their central beliefs is that you don't need a vicar or a book in order to 'have a personal relationship with God. As someone who has always mantained "It's not God I despise, its the fucking Christians", I think that's pretty neat. There's no eternal salvation or heaven for them either; you get it all now when it matters, just by generally being a nice bloke. I like that.


Art and Money

I never thought the two would ever go together for me. Mainly because I was taught that the only way you could get ahead in the art world was by sucking Charles Saatchi's dick and fingering your tutor in time to a reading by Rosalind FUCKING Krauss. But since February, when the fashion show pay cheque came in, the commissions have been really interesting. I've done portraits, musical instruments, buttonhole flowers for gay prom couples (rawk!). I've just had a request for some assistance making a costume for someone this week, and Charlotte wants me to make a piece of work for her mum's birthday. This is all word-of-mouth. I think if I finally got round to making a website, I could cause some serious happy.

I won't go into figures, but I withdrew all of the money I earned this last two months and kept it in an envelope under a pile of Cher CDs. This was so I didn't go out one night, get drunk, and decide "Oh! £____!? I make that Moet et Chandon o'clock!". Also, because it gives me a hard on to sit there touching notes and counting them onto Consuela's back while she scrubs the red wine stains out of my carpet. Now, I am terrible with money. I'm great with shoes and jackets and Vivienne Westwood perfume. But shit with money. So it surprised me that two months later, I have about 80% of that money still left in my envelope.


London

Which brings me onto the subject of a week away, this Wednesday a la Londres. mr_laughing_boy has very kindly kept a cupboard free for me to sleep in, and I get to see Jon the Goth, and apiphile's stand-up comedy at fucking last, and just generally have a really good time. There's a whole list of people I really want to see, so I'll email some emails later between doing the garage and drinking heavily. geekr0ck it totally looks like I'm going to miss you this time. God clearly hates us, despite what the Quakers say. But now that I've discovered £9 National Express coaches, I'll be up a lot more often.



Another honourable mention includes:

University, starting at the end of September. God lordy laud, I haven't been thinking about this as much as I possibly should have. I think I exhausted all methods of saying "Oh god, what if this is the worst decision I've made since I buying John Grisham's The Firm?!" and instead I'm just going to get on with it. If I think bout it too much, I'll end up in a small hole at the bottom of the garden, counting money and talking to my pumpkins.


Right, now I really must go and sort out my garage because it's full of art. Big art. Much of it and words have been had about not being able to get the car actually into its rightful place.

Photo dump from the weekend, with Biblical annotations.



"And a serpent offered the apple to that slut, Eve, saying 'If you eat of this, you will realise that dress is SOOO 1998"

( Read more... )

I painted a portrait for James, my best friend. I'm sure he won't mind me sharing the note he wrote which accompanied the big fat cheque.

This is the kinda shit that makes me feel good:



"Foxy fandango
Party mango
A big lovely thank you for
your fantastic representation of me.
I sincerely mean this:
it's a special moment in our enduring friendship.
Love enough, to last
Eternity and beyond.

Your James. xxx



:)