Frisky and Mannish and poems and hair

So! Yes! Hello! What wonderful and exciting things can I tell you about?

I saw Frisky and Mannish perform last week. They are truly legends in the making: Frisky can do justice to any female vocalist you care to name, and Mannish has such incredible range, in every musical sense. They're both skilled performers, and have an incredible dynamic. It's a thoroughly enjoyable thing, to see that kind of natural partnership: people whose thoughts and signals bounce off each other so flawlessly. Here is a video they made: Kate Bush sung in the style of Kate Nash. It's called Kate Bash, because of course it is. I feel like I might have shared this video before? I can't recall. In any case.

   

Here is a picture of my face in proximity to their faces:

It was as profoundly awkward as it looks

I don't know what else to tell you, other than that life continues and my poetry has all but ground to a halt. I really thought that having a creatively undemanding job would spur me to write in my free time, but honestly, I have just about enough mental energy to jot down draft after draft without ever finding the time or drive to work them into something.
I mean, take this for example:

So I said goodbye. What else could I do?
And me and the sea oh we both waved to you,
well no wonder it's blue.

That could be an actual song (not a good one, mind you, just a me one), if I just got my dang act together and finished it. I need to spend some quality time with my ukulele when I get my day off. I'm getting all of three minutes a day in which to practise, so I'm slipping backwards from "incompetent" to "an affront to ears."

My hair is getting beyond silly. My roots have grown out beyond the point where a hat can successfully cover it, which is due to being very impoverished for a long time, and then very busy recently. I still want to get along to Guy Christian - probably their new salon in the bay! - to get something done with it. Just as soon as I decide what that is.

Hair is a mystery, man. I mean, they say it grows back, but who wants to take that risk, you know?

About me

I've been reading The Hunger Games lately, along with half the book geeks in my life, it seems; and there's a part where the protagonist grounds herself in reality by reciting things she knows to be true about herself.

Well, thinking about it, I don't exactly have an About Me any more - not since changing my blog profile to this G+ thing - and since every other bio on the internet wants me to say everything in three lines, that means I can't really take my time over it.

So, I'll do it here. My blog, my rules! Haha!

About Me

• My name is Anna Fruen.
• I'm 24.
• I live in Cardiff, but grew up on the Isle of Wight, just off the south coast of England.
• I play the ukulele. Not because I'm good at it, but because it makes me happy.
• I write and perform poetry. Not because I'm good at it, but because I want to be understood.
• I just got a poem published for the first time! It's in this here kindle ebook, which costs only 299 British pennies.
• I'm terrified of the thought of going into space.
• I adore graffiti, and exploring to find it.
• I've recently gotten into urban exploration (wandering around abandoned sites and taking photos until a man with a flashlight asks you nicely to leave).
• I have a degree in English and Creative Writing.
• I don't have a job. I do want a job. Please give me a job.
• Those last two may be more related than I'd like.
• The first time I considered dying my hair purple, my best friends in the world tried to talk me out of it. They tried to steer me towards blonde.
• I still dye my hair purple sometimes.

I don't really know what else to say, other than thank you. The people who read my blog do it, so I'm assured, because they care about me. Even if that's only a little bit true, you care enough to read my words and that means the world. So thank you.

Here is a song I like.

Two-oh-one-two

There is a plastic cup in my room. It is on the windowsill, catching drips. What these drips are doing in my room is anybody's guess; although the letting agency, before pawning our house off on another agency, got as far as deciding that it might be the guttering.

Yes, well done. It might.

I suppose it's damp, then, that's turning my wallpaper a mottled pattern of bleached and black in that corner, despite the best efforts of a dehumidifier my housemate's relatives have kindly lent us.

It makes me feel a rush of hopelessness whenever I pull soomething from my wardrobe and smell, or see, that it is going moldy. I can't afford to replace anything. Or pay my rent, actually, let alone cover bills and food. It's a miracle that I'm limping along as I am, despite sort of having two jobs (I have had no shifts at the first job in two months, and the second is unpaid(ish) for now).

My new year's eve was uneventful. I've been nocturnal and listless for a couple of weeks, and that meant I had no resolve to fight my unfortunate tendency to hide from parties. If I'm invited to one, I'll generally go, but if I'm invited to five on the same night, you can bet good money I'll be at home, in my room, by myself.
As was in fact the case.
It got bad.
I went on omegle.

All of this, basically, is my attempt at complete and brutal honesty. Some of you seem to be labouring under the misapprehension that I'm interesting, or even "awesome." Well I'm not. But you know what? I have been. And I can be. And, goddamnit, I will be. One way or another, I'll shift gears and change from someone who is surviving into someone who is thriving. I don't know if that means I'll be getting more money in (though, Lord knows, I do hope so), but at the very least I'll be living the way I want to. Trying new things, working on my meagre skills, playing to my strengths and the like.

At least I've been writing a lot of poetry in the last month. I was looking for one I could share with you, but I seem to have started dozens and not finished any, so you might have to wait. Or check out my idlescribe tumblr, that's an option too...

I was looking for blogs to recommend to you, ones that count as an inspiration, but my google reader seems to have had a panic attack and dropped all its proverbial biscuits, so I'll get back to you on that one.

Much love, y'all.

You can watch me perform my poems, apparently!

This Saturday, from 1pm, a poetry event called 100 thousand poets for change will be taking place in Shot In The Dark on City Road. Not all of you live in Cardiff, of course, but the event will be (gulp) livestreamed here oh my goodness.


The theme is "the doors of perception," and I'll be performing at rrrroughly quarter to 2, but do get online / there from 1pm. There's going to be some QUALITY wordsmithery going on. In fact, right after me, Leeum Johnson is performing, and you know what I think of him (hint: he is ammmmaaaaazing).

Also, and this is so so exciting, the headline act is Labi Siffre. This Labi Siffre.

THIS LABI SIFFRE.

This may sound cheesy or whatever but this song used to make me cry when I was a teenager and still felt feelings right. That I'm going to meet the man who wrote these words AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

and all after that was incoherence and panicking

I better come up with something GREAT. At least I'm not reading after Leeum, I really don't think that would go well for me.

So yes, come if you can, sign up to Bambuser if you can't. Entry is free, any donations made will go to Lapidus Cymru. I'm nervous.

FoF: Tackyman

Tackyman the Deer Whisperer, originally uploaded by tackyshack.

Have I told you how amazing Tackyshack is? If not, I should have done. Marvel at his skill with lightpainting. MARVEL.

I'm performing at a poetry event on Saturday! Don't know what I'm reading yet, might be something as yet unwritten... wish me luck :S

A vastly superior day

Yesterday was a day of wonderful things.

I wandered around the grass expanse of Bute park, toes clenching and relaxing in the lush grass, treading happily on loose dirt, or my outstretched legs splashing shallow in the river. The barbecue smoke washed through my hair, which I don't mind at all - for the rest of the day, every turn of my head would remind me of it - and the music flowed from the macbook.

Haha, yes. I was getting back to nature in true filthy-footed hippie style, and my cute, skinny, indie-boy friend was playing music on his macbook. I have more cute, skinny, indie-boy friends now than at any previous point in my life. They sure know how to make me feel flabby and uninteresting (on my worse days. Today, I felt nothing but enjoyment of their company. Take that, insecurities!).

The food was great, the company was wonderful, the music, and the grass the grass the grass - my feet were filthy by the time I'd stopped wandering around. Honestly, get one cider in me and I'm so much happier! I even clambered about on the stones in the stone circle grinning happily to myself. I do love Bute Park.

These photos of the park weren't taken yesterday, but they're mine and I like them. So there.

And then, and then, a poetry event! Word4word in the yurt at Milgi. There were bad poets and good poets, a couple of stunningly funny monologues, Leeum doing his thing (that makes me feel like I've been set on fire with language), and one poet who made me take an intensely strong and personal dislike to him. Words have power, kids: they can make me decide you're a dick.

They can also leave me with a burning desire to write. I'm glad I took a notebook with me. It may look pretentious, sitting among poets and scribbling down poetry, but the ideas come thick and fast at those events and they never stay put for long.

To everyone who's comforted or checked up on me since the last blog post: thanks for caring. You really don't need to worry, though. Very soon after writing that emofest, I saw a song by Goldfish that made me dream that I'd decided to stop wallowing and get on with shit. So get on with shit I shall!

The February Post of Shame

I got twenty roses for Valentine's day. And a box of chocolates. It started out much like the occasion three years ago - no clues, and no idea - but the culprit eventually came forward.

If you're wondering why I've been so quiet lately, it's because my laptop finally gave up the ghost. The casing is cracked, the power cord frayed, and to be honest I had seen it coming for some months. (Of course, backing up was something I 'kept meaning to do,' so I'm still trying to resurrect it briefly. My tech support is proving slow despite the chocolate-and-biscuits bribery.) In the meantime I'm relying on a laptop borrowed from university, and desperately trying to cobble together a working computer out of bits a friend has lent me.

Oh! Remember my photoshoot with Rob May? Well the pictures are up now, check them out on this page if you're curious (find 'January Portraits').

I read out Butterflies! Do you remember me going on about a poem I was working on? Well it took three months and I was still making adjustments minutes before I performed it - damn thing just won't settle - but it went SO well and I'm really quite proud of myself. It's here if you want to read it.

Let's see, what else... we're looking for a place to live next year. Different landlord, because we are, to put it bluntly, Sick of This Shit. Also, I have loads of uni deadlines coming up so expect the obligatory breakdown post in mid-March.

If you miss me inbetween blog posts, I can do formspring / email / twitter etc. on my mobile phone, so I'm not completely disconnected (which is good or you'd find me huddled in my room around a campfire with animal hides everywhere).

Hope you're all well, sorry again for prolonged absence!

Godforce

The world is weird and wider than we think, this is undeniable. And I can't make head nor tail of it.

For instance, I've seen the world as crackling white energy that blazes like lightning matter broken down into all that it is: structure (order) and the other stuff, energy, the force, the spirit. I saw that.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking full-on hallucinations, but I have a vivid imagination and it made sense to me because "in Him all things hold together." That's the stuff, the God-bond, that is in everything and everything is in Him. It made the world more magical and I was happy with that.

And that's us, too, sparkling brighter than the roads we walk on, full of more lightning than the seats we sit on and the beds we lie on, and why is that?

Or so I thought, back in the day, before things got a little more 'complicated' (which means boring and grey as everyone knows; it's what adults tell children when what they mean is that they got old and things stopped making sense. "Things are a little more complicated than that"). It's easy to convince yourself that you let your mind run away with you. It's really easy.

But then, well then something unexpected happened. On Monday night. A party, all dressed up as animals, I a cat of course; not the setting for a spiritual revelation but then isn't that always the way? And I remembered a poem, and asked for a notebook, and then... well then...

Do you remember I told you about a poetry Open Mic night? And how there was one guy - one poem - that snapped me to attention and made me wonder if he might live in the same world I've lost? It talks about "throwing the rocks Jesus told me not to," and there's a sensation of rain on pavement and part of it - part of the poem, it talks about seeing everything as bright white crackling energy, electricity, and I had forgotten he said those things.

But there they were, in the notebook, and I asked him about it. Yes, he's seen it, he's seen white-hot electricity in everything. And then he mentioned archetypes and I smiled and he mentioned Jung and I sighed and I nudged him back towards Ben, because those two could talk forever (Ben loves Jung, the collective unconscious and all that jazz) and it wasn't the time for a conversation about Godforce and spirit stuff.

But now I feel a little bit less delusional and a little bit more sure of the thing you can't be sure of - that someone is in charge of this mess; someone is in control. And in us.

Making it verse

I'm hammering a poem into shape.

Last month, my university started a creative writing open mic night. I performed, and I'm going to say here what I haven't had the courage to say elsewhere: I'm actually really disappointed with how I did.

I hadn't known in advance that it was going to be competitive; I don't think many people did. I've never been a particularly competitive person, but once I knew that's how things were, I accepted it. I've been writing poetry since I was 14 or so, and I thought they were pretty good. What I hadn't thought about, however, is the huge difference between the verse you find in poetry collections, and the incredible passion and power of spoken word poetry.

I didn't expect to win, not once I'd seen Leeum perform. It was obvious to all of us, I think, that he is incredibly experienced at this; an extremely talented performance poet. From the beginning, when he spoke of "the rocks He told me not to throw," I was alert and listening more attentively than in any lecture. Anyway, my writer-crush aside, I didn't expect to win after that.

What sucked, and again this isn't something I'd happily talk about in person, is that I failed to come in the top four. Ben did. Ben, my housemate, came fourth with a poem I had helped him refine. It's a good poem, but Ben's a novelist now and poetry - well, poetry was always my thing. I was jealous. And disappointed. And when he confided in me, on leaving the cafeteria where the event took place, that he was disappointed he hadn't placed higher, I selfishly replied "Shut up, Ben. I can just about pretend that I don't mind not placing, but you have to pretend too." I'm not proud of this side of myself. Lately his success has been highlighting my insecurities, and through no fault of his own I've become a little bitter.

Since then, I've been working on one poem. Just one. Ordinarily I'd write two or three a day in one of my creative phases, but I'm trying so hard to get this one just right that I keep coming back to it and chiselling, refining, reshaping  and rewording it. And next time - on the 25th of November - Leeum's going to be compering, not competing, and I'll hopefully be in with a chance. And Ben - well, if I'm not better than him at something, I'm going to cut his dreads off while he sleeps.

(Just kidding. I would never do that.)

(Probably.)

I've been compiling this youtube playlist of my favourite spoken poems. By all means check it out! You might be surprised.

Shawna

It puzzles me.
How can she be
So close to what I was?
A single voice
Of broken choice.
I'm scared for her because
I fought so long,
And went so wrong,
And she could stumble too.
And worst of all,
If she should fall,
I'd think our nightmares true.

Like me, she sees
The sky-wrapped trees
And wonders what they mean.
Like her, I saw
An open door
That promised things unseen.
And from her lips
And fingertips
I hear the words I'd use
To speak my fears,
And joy, and tears.
I think we share a muse.

Inspired by Shawna's blog.

EDIT: Alright, obviously it's time I unretired Creative Splurges. I don't really like that name, though, so I'm unretiring it at the new address of http://thiefree.blogspot.com/ Please join me there, that way I can stop poeming all over this one!

Iambic, I am back.

I made my home amidst the noise,
I wrote my dreams down small.
If truth be told now, girls and boys,
I'm blushing for it all.
For who am I to write a blog?
To think that it's worth sharing?
And are you not appalled by all
My arrogance and daring?

For five years now I've been the same,
With precious little to my name
Besides this blog - my paltry fame,
Both undeserved and fleeting.
But the fire of passion's heating,
And at last I've seen the light.
I've made a choice, and it feels right
So onwards! Upwards! To the fight.
The drums of war are beating
So it's time to have a meeting
(I hope there's sufficient seating)
And I've finally found my feeting and I'm not sure that's a word

But basically it's time
That I rediscovered rhyme.

Thoughts of an Elder Tree

Ok, on request, and because I'd just finished one anyway, I thought I'd show you guys a poem. I write all kinds - surreal, spiritual, comedic, literally anything. This one is free form, which I find hard because I find structured poetry comes naturally to me.

Anyway, do let me know what you think, suggestions for improvement are much welcomed! (As long as you're nice!)

Thoughts of an Elder tree.

So strange to see saplings these days
Surrounded by New Stone
Supported and bound,
Kept as pets.
A tree should never be supported. It weakens the sap.

They do not know what it is
To feel the life run thick and sticky through the boughs,
To stretch and reach with searching roots.

But they grow deep and high, they will learn
What it is to be of Odin's Horse.
Their roots will buckle, bend and break the New-Stone shackles,
Scabbed bark a testament to our strength.

I'll also be posting it in my deviantART with the rest of my creative splurges (the link's always on the left if you want it.)

Sing us a song

I definitely need to write songs.

I've been writing poetry since I discovered boys at the age of 15. Over the years, it's become a tried and tested means of expressing myself - the one thing in life that I could confidently say I was good at. Not great, maybe, but good. And songwriting is always something that's appealed to me.

The problem is that I can't play an instrument. Not one. I took piano lessons when I was younger, and they tried to teach me to play the recorder once. Over the years, I bought an ocarina, a harmonica, two penny whistles and a xylophone in the hopes that one of them would grant me magical musical powers. I even took drum lessons for a bit, and that was a lot of fun, but I didn't stick with it - something I still regret, as I suspect that hitting things with sticks would be a very healthy form of release for me!

Every time I walk past a music shop, or I'm dragged in by my (wonderfully talented) boyfriend, I gaze in awe at everything from the ukuleles to the clarinets, wondering if I'll ever find the instrument that's right for me. (In reality though, I know that's not how it works. How it really works is that you pick an instrument and slog your guts out until you're good at it. This is another reason why real life sucks.)

Over Christmas, I spent a bit of time in my home church, Bethany. It's the church I went to throughout my entire childhood, and I had a key to it for a year, so I feel completely comfortable and safe there. I was waiting for a friend, and had a couple of hours to kill, and I thought - y'know what would be fun? Playing on one of the pianos. And I mean 'playing' in the fun sense. Bethany has - let me think... at least four pianos and a keyboard, so I was spoiled for choice.



I sat down in front of one of the pianos, and played a couple of chords, throwing in a few notes with my right hand. "Ooh, that sounds nice..." I played the only song I ever learned - 'give me oil in my lamp' - an easy one, because it's mostly on the black keys. I made dozens of mistakes, and nobody would have been fooled into thinking that I new what I was doing, but as I played and re-played tunes I knew, and invented a few as well, the mistakes got fewer and fewer and let me tell you - I was loving it!

Looking around my room now, at the plastic storage tubs that hold my possessions until I get proper furniture, it's slightly discouraging to know that I can't really find room for a piano in here (even assuming I could a) buy one, and b) get it up two flights of stairs in the first place). But it's reassuring that I'm not completely without hope. And that maybe the days will come when I can tinkle on the ivories, or even buy a budget keyboard, and get a few songs out into the world.

Interesting thing of the day: the timeline of internet memes.

ALSO, a reminder, please vote for Almost Daily Exploits! I'm narrowly ahead and would love for it to stay that way ;) Thanks so much to everyone who's voting and re-voting.

Ten things

For some reason I've found it difficult to write about anything lately. I haven't seen any new films lately, or I'd attempt a lacklustre review, possibly with a few mediocre puns thrown in for good measure.

So anyway, as I said, not much in the way of inspiration happening here. I suppose this is a filler post. For my regular readers, here are ten unrelated things about me that you may not know. To those who don't know me, who are new readers, perhaps, here is my proof that I'm not just another cardboard cut-out person who sits on the bus with you.

1. The place I dream about most often is my home church. I've had flying dreams, naked dreams, exploring dreams, even a sexy dream once, located there. I think I probably dream about it roughly once a week.


2. My parents sent me a bear for my birthday. He arrived today and has a hot water bottle inside him, and I've named him Bode. I think the journey must have been stressful as he's shedding a fair bit - I never want to travel by envelope!
   


3. Back when I used to get insomnia as a kid, I'd try sleeping the other way round, on the floor, in my wardrobe, on top of my wardrobe, in the hall... anywhere. It never worked.
   


4. I want to redecorate this site to something a little less fey, but I've absolutely no idea where to get the layout. I got this one by butchering some code from one of those "OMGLOL pretty up your myspace, lyk totally hot!!!1" sites.


5. I have maybe sort of cyberstalked before. A bit. But it was all public information. But I'm still sorry. Although I would probably do it again. Well then people should stop being so damn INTERESTING then shouldn't they! Still, we're going out now so I suppose I must have done something right! Hahahaah!! I'm not crazy!!! Hahahaah!!!!


6. I used to get very homesick for places I'd never been. Heaven, Ankh-Morpork, a willow tree by a river. I don't any more. Any great thinker, writer, or comedian will tell you that as soon as you're happy with your life, something in your imagination goes dormant.


7. The first pet my family ever owned died right underneath my feet. He was a cat called Chloë and I loved him very much. He purred for the first person to get up every day, so our parents had to ban us from getting up before 6.


8. For years I thought someone I knew was skiving off school. He had six months off at one point just because every weekday morning he'd wake up with an indefinable headache that would disappear sometime after lunch. When he was diagnosed with depression I felt like utter shit, especially since part of me still didn't understand.


9. My greatest fear is that I will cease to be interesting or likeable, and everyone I know will desert me, and I'll be incapable of making any new friends. Every day I wonder if this has already started happening.


10. I could be an amazing poet. I know I could. Maybe I will be one day.

I'm not going to say it's a meme, but if any of you decide you'd like to write ten unrelated facts about yourself (and let's face it who doesn't love a bit of a vanity-wallow once in a while), drop me a comment or an email with a link - I'd love to read them.

Poets

Ok first of all, if you know me, you know poetry excites me. It makes me dizzy, makes me smile, makes me feel things in a different way, and that's why I love it.

That's why I'm going to share these people with you; because I believe they have something to say that might matter to you.

First of all, Scroobius Pip. Many of you will have heard this before, most likely because it's amazing.


Scroobius Pip is a modern poet, rapper, spoken word lyricist, political thinker. Enjoy it.

Our second poet today is Taylor Mali. He is a teacher, and he is one of those people who seem to be aware in a way that many people aren't. He speaks with conviction. I respect that.



The third poet I'd like to recommend to you Christina Rossetti. She writes about emotions and situations that really speak to me. Particularly "No, Thank You, John" - a firm push into the friend zone for some would-be lover. From the sounds of things it needed to be done, for his own sake as well as hers!

On an unrelated note, the interesting thing of the day is TyTe's latest beatboxing video - it's one of the all-too-rare funny ones, and I thought you might like to check it out. This is the man who got me into beatboxing, this is the man who fed me barbequed shark that I then left all over his patio. He is a legend. Watch, comment.

Every silver lining has a cloud

I have so much to look forward to right now, so I thought I'd have a rare (these days) moment of unbridled positivity. Yes, I am aware of the irony in that sentence.

So! I got my essay handed in, and tomorrow is that last day of lectures... and I think they've been cancelled. So technically it's easter! Hooray! And for Easter, G and myself are going to Paris for a week. I'm very very very excited about this!!

ALSO

ALSO

I'm moving to Cardiff. Wow.

I discovered a beautiful poem today, it's here if you want to read it. My poetry seminar went so well today! It's by far my favourite subject, and to be honest I'm gonna miss our lecturer. I've had differences of opinion with him, but that's a good thing; in so many subjects I don't have any opinion at all.

I bumped into Dainjamouth on the way home from university; the only beatboxer that I know of in Plymouth. It was good to catch up with him; he reminded me about a hip-hop battly type thing that's happening today but I don't know anyone here who'd want to go to that kind of thing with me, which is a shame!

I saw Lost last night! I missed it on Sunday due to being in Cardiff, and on Tuesday due to being a fool, but they repeat it on Wednesdays as well and I'm so very excited about that. Hahaha. Yes, my life currently is that dull, but it won't be for long!

On the downside, somebody I know really needs a cuddle and to be told everything's gonna be ok. Both things that inexplicably lose 99% of the meaning when you're not in the same room as the person.

University and the like

I feel better! And my laptop is working! And university seems ok! And the library here has half a million books which is enough to form L-space! And I'm listening to a track called Sweet Charity by Mr Bungle and generally feeling rather awesome.

Did you know, if you hardly eat for almost a week, it really wrecks up your body? Over the past few days, in addition to a painful throat, I've had the muscles in my legs burning with lactic acid, and my tongue actually turned black after a glass of red wine (I kid you not, that is NOT ok with me)! Still, I appear to be 100% better now, thank God. Sorry to bore you all with my health, I realise it loses some of the fascination when you're not undergoing it personally!

I went to a poetry reading the other day, it was very enjoyable. I love poetry, and poetry readings are pseudo-intellectual enough to flatter me into feeling cultured. So that was nice. I came out of it feeling very fired up about how much I'm going to improve throughout university, and thinking "I could so do that!"

Now I'm listening to a song about a cartoon stuffed otter called Philippe. And that is one reason why my boy rocks. Another is that I just spent almost an hour with him on the phone. Hooray!

Love to you all :) x x

Shakespearian Shenanigans

I was tempted to write this post in iambic pentameter, but I thought I'd spare you that particular blessing. Lucky old you.

I just finished watching the latest episode of Doctor Who, one of my few televisual addictions, and I just wanted to (without any avoidable spoilers) let you guys know what I thought.

The iambic pentameter was well and appropriately used, which for a true-blue wannabe poet such as myself was just delicious!

And the Harry Potter references were very funny indeed. Can't wait to read book seven.

Do you guys watch it? What did you think?

Not boobs.

Well, a bunch of strangers requested that I blog about boobs, so...

No.

Ah, sorry, did I disappoint you? But don't worry, I'm going to blog about something BETTER than boobs. Seriously. No kidding. Here follows a list if such things.

1) Ice cream.
It's been so long since I had Ben and Jerry's (indisputably the best ice cream ever conceived by man). Cookies and cream, phish phood (sp?), and above all, Dublin mudslide... I love the Irish cream in that. Leading me to number two good thing...

2) Baileys.
The only alcoholic drink that I actually like. It tastes like happy!

3) Lost.
Yes, I am addicted, but tragically I am several episodes behind everyone else. Steven, if you read this, I AM MOST DISPLEASED. I needs the Lost.

4) Music.
Into Nina Simone at the moment, she is an absolute legend!

5) Being funny.
I LOVE being funny. I don't know how often it happens, but when it does, it makes me feel good that I can make people laugh... sadly, I don't think I've found a medium that communicates my particular sense of humour. Video certainly doesn't. (Oh, on that note, I may not be making many more YouTube vids, and almost certainly no vlogs.) Writing? Well, I seriously hope I can be funny. Let me know.

6) Poetry. VASTLY better then breasts. I mean seriously, have you read the Raven? Sheer genius. I also recommend blue peace incantation, Salome and "Hole in the floor". Plus, of course, anything I've written. ;) (re-plugs http://creativesplurges.blogspot.com/)

7) Sunshine.
Not only a beautiful thing, which makes people happy (and tanned), but also the source of all life (indirectly, of course). And, to top it all, you can call people it and it makes them smile, so they actually become a little more sunshiney. Which is really rather special.




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LINKS to the poems I recommended

The Raven
Blue Peace Incantation
Salome (about 3/4 of the way down)
Hole In The Floor