petition to stop all manufacturing of mustache necklaces, phone cases, and t-shirts
|| I spent two months in 2010 nursing my grandmother who had been diagnosed with aggressive lung cancer. Her serious condition shocked her into a continuous state of nostalgia; she was completely unaware of what was happening day-to-day, but it was a privilege to have been holding her hand whilst listening to her stories of difficult childhood and romantic young adulthood. I tried to write down everything she told me. ||
My grandma told me a story about when she and her sisters and her mother thought they’d lost her father in the war. They lost all traces of him and the letters stopped coming. The family had to keep moving as each and every home the settled in to was bombed to rubble.
They lived out of suitcases for five years and ran and ran. I imagine my great-grandmother as this amazingly tough and strong German housewife, stiff upper lip, terribly unlucky. I imagine her, and my grandmother, and all her sisters and brother, holding hands like a paper chain, running through rubble strewn streets and grey muddy fields, with their suitcases flapping around in the frenzy of escaping the bomber planes. The youngest one still sleeping as the big sisters get him dressed and chase him out of the door, he is clinging on to his mother, and the eldest at the back picking up anyone who tripped over. They were constantly on the move and always changing their address, which eventually lead to the communication with their father to completely disappear (who was serving in the German Army). He couldn’t trace where his family were and they lost trace of him too as he was being re-posted all over Europe.
My great-grandma took the children to the cinema to watch the news. There were moving-picture news reports and were projected in the local cinema for free before whichever film was scheduled to be screened. My grandma remembered that this place had hardly any chairs because they were all removed to be burnt and used as fuel. She remembered the room being packed full of people, the children were allowed to stand at the front in order to see the screen, but it was still no use as they ended up standing too close and couldn’t see anything on a ten foot projection. She remembered the room smelling bad due to there being so many people.
They stood there with every other anxious family and eyes widened at the uncensored images of war. But they found their father on this reel of film. She remembered her mother leaping in to the air screeching at the person in the projection room to re-wind, she was crying and waving her arms and hugging all the children, and they didn’t know what happened. She had noticed in one clip only a beat of a moment, her husband was in the line up of soldiers marching along. She knew it was him instantly, she demanded they re-wound the film, and they obliged. It was definitely him and when they played it slowly all the children recognised him too and the family were in pieces so happy to know he was still alive.
This newsreel was at least a week out of date, as it needed to be developed, edited, the news report written and distributed. They had some help in tracking down where he was posted and somehow they were all reunited at the end of his service.
I find the path of fate truly magical.
Dancing Girl - Nigel Hillary
The best way to listen to this song is naked
The Glitch Mob - Between two points
Le Premier Mois
Not so bad. Not so bad. Social anxiety loosening, but surprisingly increasingly irritated with companies only updating their Facebook pages with latest info rather than their website or twitter feed. Urrrgh. I might just have to re-create a new account just so I can see which band are playing at the pub at the weekend.
But overall, not as bad as I thought it would be. I do miss some people though. I usually don’t get a chance to know how my nieces are unless my brother’s wife posts millions of photos on her profile. So now I don’t have access to the life-feed! They’ve done amazingly well at enforcing a strict early bed time which means I don’t get the chance to call or Skype them in the evenings.
I’m also missing out on events and shiz that randomly pop up in my notifications. Most of them I don’t pay attention, but the birthday ones I want that info!
In general, very happy with the lack of commentary on everyone’s business.
I think the thing I’d be saddest about losing is my iTunes library. Currently backing up my life inside this machine ready to send it off for repair… I had this horrible thought what if I could never recover my stuff? I have songs in my library I’ve never even heard before, I love making discoveries.
Five years ago my most prized item was my crappy home made CD booklet thing (made with paper envelopes, ring binder wallets and bound with stereo wires). Old boyfriends made me mixes and burned a CD, one guy made a little art booklet to go with it like a real “off the shelf” one.
It’s getting dusty in a box in a cupboard somewhere, but that gives it more magic. I will rediscover it one day and remember all those unsigned bands I went to see in sticky-floored pubs, those trips down to HMV with my first few pay cheques, when buying a CD was a credible birthday gift.
I treasure music.
I first posted this 52 weeks ago. So much happens in a year you only have to blink once and it’s flown by (Taken with Instagram)
I finally deleted my Facebook account last night after talking about it for so long. I don’t know what came over me. This overwhelming desire to boycott Facebook overcame me and I just clicked the delete button. Now I’ve realised I’ve left a few messages in my inbox unanswered - so if any of your guys manage to read this, make sure you send me your number!
So day One has been OK not as bad as I’d thought. Little bit bored though. Is that bad? It’s Saturday… I should be out catching the last of the summer rays, but no, instead I’m thinking about all that gossip I’m missing out on, which most of the time is utterly boring but somehow now I don’t have the choice to dismiss it and I feel like I’m missing out. I’ve kicked myself out of the gang and I’m feeling a little bit sad.
Won’t be long until I can’t bear it anymore and I’m lurking outside my friends’ houses peering into their windows and watching them eat dinner.Took a leisurely amble down the canal with some Nitro Ice (so amazing) and my camera shooting tourists flaunting their pasty legs and tan lines gawping at graffiti on walls and tacky merch. Amusing distraction but not good enough. I might set up a sweepstakes… Do you think I can make it to the end of the month without chewing my nails off?