Rock star without the famePosted by Stella Mon, October 24, 2011 19:22:01 Well hello. Remember me? Blond, obsessive, tremendous piece of Fun? No? Understandable, I can't even remember the last time I wrote anything here. Although I think it might have been about Arcade Fire being a good band (revolutionary opinions as always). Well anyway, I woke up this morning, remembered I have a week off uni and went about the day as expected. Among the massive amount of things that got done, these are the highlights:
Got my national insurance number. Well, applied for it rather, answering annoying questions from an annoying woman.
Power napped. Well and good for about 90 minutes, happily dribbling all over my pillow.
Ate jam straight from the jar.
Biked to King's Road only to get a muffin. Just to learn the same lesson twice - muffins always disappoint.
Packed my bags for Sweden.
Did half of my laundry.
And then, when I felt that my quote for achievement was far exceeded I found myself sat in the kitchen wondering what to do. So here I am writing about my day, secretly hoping to inspire enough guilt in my guts to get off my ass and do something. Maybe study for the ginormous test I've got on Saturday, maybe come up with something clever to make a carefully crafted design piece about, maybe realising that smoking, eating and drinking excessively isn't really "recovering from shin infection", it's probably quite the opposite. Maybe I should just wash my hair.
But I know the inevitable outcome of this. Since this week has been all about falling back into old patterns anyway (some good, some I really hoped would be gone) I can do nothing but give in. Alas, it's time to dust off that old and comforting phrase that has got me all the way here in some miraculous way. I'll sort my life out tomorrow.
Now, if you'll excuse me I've got three sofas upstairs I simply must make the most of.
MusicPosted by Stella Sun, September 04, 2011 23:29:54 ///QUOTE/// there are great moments in awards shows. bruno mars sounded really good
doing ‘valerie’ for amy winehouse. i don’t think anyone is bummed that
adele is killing everything. her voice was real and focused when i went
thru and watched highlights from tonight. kanye and jay z are always
murdering. beyonce is pregnant. yes this is awesome as shit, culturally
speaking. but can i just ask, the reader, us, we … as non-rhetorically
as possible: don’t we seem dumb? didn’t MTV lose the fight against
themselves? Didn’t Rock’n'Roll STOP? Why are the lights so bright? isn’t
our talent as artists enough? Why do we try SO hard? Does a moonman
mean what it did back then? Should we feel pumped when we get one?
Should our mom’s cry? I am not even thinking about it that hard. I will
close my eyes in 90 seconds and have total peace… But, seriously. Why
are we waving around so much? Why do we NEED this shit so bad? Why don’t
we just have MUSIC? DO music? soul? I don’t know. I don’t mean to
criticize. Anyone. Actually. Except for MTV. You might have had a very
large opportunity to be stabilize your self as a global presence of
culture and art about 15 years ago and you fucked the dog. Sorry. Im
with my girls on this one. Its becoming increasingly clear as I think
about it more and more, that the dollars, if they ARE apart of why you
are doing something… they are apart of why you are doing something.
that’s fucked to me. that’s the absence of spirit, glue, fabric of what
makes us a person. it distracts us from what we could be doing: WORK. on
EARTH. Better say this: Forget what I say. If you even read this,
you’ll probably say to yourself, who is this ass saying shit? It doesn’t
matter what i say. it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. But this one
last thought: What would Bill Hicks say? ///END QUOTE///
I am sorry. I am gonna post this under music because it is about a great musician. But I think it's more of a rant.
I find this blog post so sweet and charming I want to travel across the sea to whatever little cabin Justin Vernon, aka Good Winter Boy (Bon Iver, get the pun), is hiding in at the moment and give him the biggest of big hugs. Why I want to do that is probably for all the wrong reasons and all the wrong associations his music gives me, but anyway. Bottom Line. This is so wonderful.
Also, there is an acoustic version of Beth/Rest, the only shit song of the new album. I've heard it's better than the album version. Let's all check it out together and make peace and love and more music I can obsess about. If all goes well in the world I will soon reach the peak of my career as a successful fag nicking, chair sitting, obsesser of music and men. ACE BRO!
A bit of everythingPosted by Stella Wed, August 31, 2011 16:06:41 So, I've now realised what missing Twitter is like. About 5 seconds ago I really missed it. Because I felt like telling people that Carl Barat shuffled on to my iPod and his voice makes me weary. That little piece of ABSOLUTELY USELESS information is the sort of stuff I'm saving aaall my 52 followers from these days. And myself from the humiliation of tweeting about it. AND my poor brain from knowing that Mr Green might read them all or maybe he won't read at all.
Fail update #2: Checked out my new place on the London tube map. I'm about one millimetre from being a zone 1 kind of person. Now I'm a just outside zone 1 kind of person.
Also I'm a very unemployed kind of person and today explored the great adventure of changing my jogging round to dancing obnoxiously in the living room for about an hour. Level of workout: equal.
These two men loyally accompanied me throughout March this year and so James Blake's almost perverse fascination for odd noises and Justin Vernon's auto tuned voice are very dear to me to say the least. Accordingly, when I heard that they were doing stuff together all the rules for this summer went out the window. "The rules" are really just one big music ban; No Bon Iver, no Fleet Foxes, no Radiohead, no James Blake, no Mean Lady. Basically nothing that under any circumstances could cause me any greater emotional stirs. Well, it was fun while it lasted but it was bound to break eventually. And so, here it is. The colab that could be nothing but beautiful and absolutely fucking fatal.
The weekend hasn't even begun and already I'm crawling around in a hungover state of confusion. I've had a call from the police about a friend who never got home from my "party" and so was listed as missing, hence the upsetting call that woke me up from my alcohol reeking self indulgence. The conversation that followed was slightly bizarre and a bit freaky and before I understood what it was all about I tried to imagine in my head what sort of crimes my friends could have possibly committed on the short way home from my house. But as it turned out the only thing that really happened was my friend Hannes disappearing on a whim because he "couldn't sleep" and so decided to piss off for about 15 hours. Lovely guy that.
Time is catching up on me and I don't like it. But I'm seeing Arcade Fire tomorrow and shouldn't complain. Popaganda 2011 here we go.
Blue Fever on..Posted by Stella Fri, June 24, 2011 16:43:52 I am unable to find words for the black cloud currently tainting my intestines with rage and jealousy. The fundamentals of summer (festivals festivals festivals) have once again given me a big fat reality slap straight in the face. An so, once again, I ask myself - the fucking champion of worrying about the future, WHY oh WHY didn't I get hold of some festival tickets this year EITHER? What is it I find so absolutely addictive about sitting in front of my computer trying to pretend that I don't want to be part of the muddy, STD filled, eargasm wrestling match that is a festival? What is so fucking hilarious about sitting at home trying to ignore the feeling of missing out big time when I've had just as good chance as anyone else to claim tickets for the tenting mayhems? WHY AM I SUCH AN OLD BITCH?
The reason behind my new found rant need is, of course, Radiohead playing Glasto in about four and a half hours. I feel sick with jealousy. Absolutely fucking numb. And the ironic and worst part of it all is that I will listen to and watch Radiohead on TV tonight and cry my fucking eyes out. The standard way of solving any life crisis naturally.
So when you find my eyeless carcass tomorrow morning, crunched up in front of the TV in a pool of blood, Mnm's and Skittles, please thank my mum for my purple legwarmers who kept me company right to the very end. And please, let my story be told. Tell the kids, tell the infants, plant a speaker in every fucking womb and for God's sake TELL THEM. Tell them to plan their summer PROPERLY and EARLY to avoid this tormenting anxiety that is watching Glastonbury on a 12" screen knowing that you could have been right in the very middle of it. Thank You.
MusicPosted by Stella Sun, June 12, 2011 17:47:55 I know I've probably put this up before. But it's worth putting up again.
This blog is hitting the snooze button, that's for sure. Is it because nothing happens? Ha as if, how about The Kills and Cat's Eyes live, a new tattoo, binge drinking with Lucky "like" Luke and a SECOND slippery Hawley manly man?
Be patient, I'm sure someone will feel like ranting it off soon.