I've neer seen The Pilot Show, but here's my opinion on it all the same...

It'snot funny. Actually, the bit where they pitched Soul Search, about teams of people trying to find "former Starsky & Hutch star David Soul" but... Lapdance Island was REALY FUNNY when you thought somehow C4 employs that many people, in that many high-ranking places to push a show thru about NOT TOUCHING STRIPPERS, A LOT.

Now we just have the shocking revelation "men who aren't embarresed to like porn turn up to be in a TV show about watching naked ladies shove their asses in their faces"- Yeh, fucking and?

It's C4 laughing at itself again, with that tiresome duality thing it does, were it gets pious on yr ass with CUTTING EDGE SATIRE about the people who watch that heaveily edited sex on terestial*, and then fills the rest of it's schedule with Porn: BC! and Porn: ABOUT YOUNG FOREINGERS IN LONDON!

Plus if it was real we'd probablly have to endure cross-pollinated Guardian staffers trying gamely to twitter on about "masses". That, for free? Worth it.

*No, I can't really think of any either, but that's it's carefully cultivated brand identity, no?

_chris! // 09:06


Worst ever t-shirt about sex: Like Me Till [big cartoon picture of a large ice cream cone] Ice Cream

Best ever t-shirt about sex: WILL FUCK FOR AIR FORCE ONES

_chris! // 08:46



It doesn't feel like I'm ever gonna leave. And I don't even know what I've done with the past three months, which were filled with promise. Three months to do my own thing! I could learn, be a better person, beat myself talented! There was hope there, truely there was.

And now? It's taken to today to get truely bored of being that fantastically bored. Because bored I have been. I haven't resented everyone like other summers, despite the lapse away from the honesty of last year, and suddenly everything is soon. Apparently, we will meet again soon, we'll keep in touch, this hug really means something, you're a really good friend.

The failings, I imagine, are all on my own part. Like how I can't make light conversation if my clothes get damp in the rain, like how I can't be happy if I don't focus on imagining what my hair should look like, so the lake of communication is down to me. I have forever fallen just outside a tight circle of friends analogous with that which my sister built up with disgusting ease. Why? Maybe becuase most of those involved were women, maybe because I can't hold my drink, maybe because my interests rarely coincided with theirs. Probablly all, and more.

And suddenly, the same has happened to Barbelith (maybe not suddenly, but still it hit me today, and added to my air of house-bound despondency). Well not the same at all, really, but I'm deffinately off-kilter with it. I have no idea what most of the current angsts are about, where the concerns are coming from, who the trolls are. This started when I went on holiday, and I just wasn't able to work out what was happening. It was like there'd been a big fight and everone was putting on a brave face now.

None of that really makes my forthcoming move seem very profitable for me, does it? It doesn't even seem real now- how on earth do I grow up? Read a whole book from cover to cover without getting restless? Learn to hold my drink? Not cry a lot? Fucking even make nice conversation with people and make friends and learn what people say when trying to not scare them and not look like a twat to them and get to know them? Not slap down twarts so much even tho I'm right?

Earlier today I was overcome with the idea that I could, somehow, even having enrolled, defer for a year, run away (not really very away, obviously, but a bit away) to Brighton, do something, anything for a year to make up for this wasted, stupid summer punctuated breifly by things that felt like treading water. Where was the learning? The growing? The writting, the bass playing, the dancing, the adjective "queer"?

Obviously, I could be making this feeling up, retrospectivly adding rhyme and reason where there is none, dredging thru it all and somehow forceing it into a nice little AABB pattern, the
William Topaz McGonagall of autobiographical angstblogging- am I really "between" phases? Do I honestly believe my own hyperbolic sense of foreboding?


_chris! // 20:27


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chris is here! rock magicalaqua, barbelith, notopia, holy roman empire, flux, rizla, flyboy, the independent, randomenss, dead dog, suds, home cinema, upsideclown, careless talk costs lives, deva, auto ego fellation, The Adventures Of Perkin Warbeck, captain fez, kookymojo, slave labor graphics, ninjas, top shelf comics, medialens, the guardian, mister disco, fantagraphics books, shortfatdyke, tomatoes might fly, grammarporn, Loz, plums, youth club tape club, Hello Kitty vibrators, eye rainbow dinosaur, Janina, Unskinny Bop and all the other Barbebloggers like a hurricane!
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