ally's journal

i want to record new songs damnit! i'm going to burst. i've not been able to sleep recently. i've not got a clue why i can't sleep. i lie down and the starting pistol goes off in my mind. and we're off! racing round the track, leaping over thoughts like an olympic hurdler. crashing into hurdles as my legs get cramp..

that surgery live programme is on tv again. why? and 'hell's kitchen' is back. that's the show where they take wannabe celebs and watch them fight with spatulas as ristotto burns. why? aaaggghh.

time for a kava kava tea

i'm still here. i've not been abducted by shelter fundraisers. i'm still moving. i've just been trying to make things happen and haven't wanted to bore anyone who might happen to visit this page with all my nonsense. i'm trying to work out my own mind.

i wrote a new song called "there's a world". it's kind of sad i suppose. but hopeful. i was in a taxi the other day and michael bolton's song "love is a wonderful thing" came on really loudly. i automatically rolled my eyes in disgust like the miserable cynic i've become of late. "cheesy old flapper i thought". but then i stopped and thought "how can i say that?" i mean earlier in the day i'd been listening to jimmy durante singing "the glory of love" which is just a beautiful song ("you've got to give a little, take a little" etc) i wasn't cynical about that song, so why am i being so mean to the bolton!? he's being happy. he's found love. makes you shine through the pouring rain!

then the taxi ran over a squirrel.

oh how i laughed.

"'we've hit a fu*king squirrel!" shreiked the driver, ash dripping off his fag and onto the beaded passenger seat.

"oh well" i said.

"i feel awful now" said the driver

"i don't care" i said.

above the strained vocals of michael bolton, the driver began weeping uncontrollably.

i laughed maniacally for five straight minutes as the taxi rolled along.

then we hit another squirrel.

"oh this is ridiculous!" the driver said, blubbering away, his voice crackling as the strain of being a murderer gripped him. "where are they coming from!?

we both rolled down the windows simultaneously. it couldn't have been choreographed better. it was beautiful. our heads looked downwards, and we realised that the squirrels were throwing themselves in front of the cars with giddy abandon in a bid to avoid bolton's balladery.

woah. i just broke my promise to you earlier in this blog. i'll shut up now. i like squirrels and i don't want them to die. i've just been in a mean mood lately. some bloody fundraisers (well they would have been bloodied if i'd had the guts to sock one of them) stopped me on saturday and said (smugly) 'do you want the long version or the short version?'. neither i said and stomped on.

that's told them, eh?

oh well.

time for a catarrh pastille.

my flatmates sal and pep had a fight last night. i grabbed my camera and caught some of the action...



it was tense for a while, i have to say....

but luckily they kissed and made up later. all's well that ends well.