So that was 2002 was it? I can't begin to explain what a fucked up year it was.

Nearly a year ago today, my nightmare began. I'd had a pretty uneventful Christmas and New Year, and had spoken to mum a few times. Just after New Year, my sister phoned to say mum had been rushed into hospital. She was upset, but seemingly only half troubled, and I assumed that all was going to be allright. I was upset myself, but there was nothing I could really do, so I did my best to put it to the back of my mind.

The next day, things got much worse, and everything froze as I got the phone call to tell me to come back to the Isle of Man as soon as possible. Panic gripped me and all the colour drained out of the world. I remember walking down from work, past Liverpool Street station, talking to John, My Uncle, my Gran. Within a few hours, I was travelling across London to Heathrow, to get the plane back to the island. Everything was going wrong. This wasn't supposed to be how it went.

Mum had acute pancreatitis. It seemed that there had been a complication from her gall stones, and her pancreas was breaking down, releasing enzymes into her body, and causing widespread organ failure. The following ten days, the first couple of weeks of January 2002, were pure hell.

Too much time spent watching her slipping away, never stabilising; not enough time to do anything. Hoping, hoping, hoping, nothing left but hope. Living my life through statistics, pacing the day out at her beside, drinking coffee, smoking. Wanting it all to be over, but wanting each moment spent with her to expand and never end.

But it ended. Finally.

And then what? A year, spent trying to lose myself and everything I was before. A terrible year, of love and life and dreams and pain. Sometimes filled with a light so intense that I felt I could tear through the world and scream and laugh and cry. Chaos.

What do I do this year? How do I fill my life up, how do I find the order, the peace that comforted me before?

posted at 5:28 PM •

The usual post-christmas dreariness. I've had a bit of a cold, so stayed in Saturday night, but I'm venturing forth for Vauxhall Tavern of course.

Interesting factoid in the J-List newsletter, which answered something that had puzzled me from playing Metal Gear Solid 2 (a game which thoroughly failed to grip me). While entering your details to customise a save game, one of the things it asked for was blood type. Pretty wierd thing to ask for I thought...and besides which, I haven't a clue what mine is*.

Anyway, it turns out that the Japanese believe you can tell a lot about a person's personality and character traits from their blood type. Type A people are neat, tidy, and plan things meticulously, almost to a fault. Type B are "going my way" (as the Japanese say), meaning that they do their own thing without worrying about the opinions of others, and don't plan things out in advance. They can be messy, and tend to act on impulse. Type O people have a private world inside their minds, supposedly, and they're quick to become passionate about something, but then change to something else just as easily. Type O people have the ability to lead others. Finally, AB people have "two faces," one that they make in front of some people and another one they keep to themselves.

My interest in the Japanese grows and grows...and no, it's not all just because of this or this, though they are a major factor.

*I think it's something very ordinary and common - John's is O rhe-, apparently dead rare. A fact which, considering current UK policy on elegibility for blood donation (gay men are on the same standing as IV drug users, pond filth and other undesirables), makes you smile and go, "Nyah nyah, I've got lovely rare blood, and your silly rules mean you don't want it", whilst doing a little dance.

posted at 2:30 PM •

OK, up a bit. Enough to put a happy face on anyway.

Spirits lifted by 'Ab Fab' Christmas Special - 'Gay'. I won't spoil too much for anyone who hasn't seen it yet (I don't think it airs in the US for a couple of days) - but it's probably no secret that it's mostly set in NY, and it's the first appearance of Serge.

Anyway, in a homo-socio-cultural vibe, I thought I'd track the spread of one of the best things from the episode - the term 'fag bangle'.

----------SPOILER----------

Fag Bangle - noun - A gay man used as status symbol. Predominantly by a single, straight female who would be described as a 'fag hag'.

----------SPOILER ENDS----------

So far, nul points on Google. How long before the term gets absorbed into every day use?

posted at 3:57 AM •

Feeling totally flat. Boxing Day at John and Neal's - really wasn't up for coping with it.

I feel so shut off from the world. It's the same old situation, don't want to make small talk, don't want to start wailing and showing how screwed up I feel inside. So I just sit there, glazed over and totally humourless. Don't feel like myself, but I just get crippled by the storm in my head, and then feel guilty that I'm so withdrawn and miserable. Maybe I should try to compartmentalise my feelings and let them out here, try to get some peace in my head.

posted at 9:15 PM •

I miss her so much.

I don't want to think too much today, because the tears are very close.

How little time I had with her, how few Christmases.

This day has so little meaning for me, and so much - as usual, I am torn between two emotions, and it feels like the only option is to try to work around the pain.

Mum, I miss you so very desperately. I love you with all my heart, and always will. I feel you know how much you meant to me, how much I respected you, and admired you for your strength, a quality I just cannot find today.

So today, I will cry.

And tomorrow?

posted at 3:12 PM •

Busy, busy busy.

Thursday saw The Two Towers, which was every bit as good as The Fellowship. Luckily I wasn't in too much of a hyper-emotional mood, but I was choking back the tears with Sam's final speech on home and hope. Had a bitof a pointless row with John after, on the pacing of the movie. I'd just like it known that I was right of course.

Got into a bit of a mardy mood on Friday, pissed off at work, my status there, and the general lack of anything resembling professionalism. Ranted aimlessly at Jason for a bit, which aleviated my spleen a little.

New Year's resolution # 1: Find a new job

Saturday got myself all organised - got into the west end, bought myself a few bits for the bike (scottoil and anti-fog mask), John's christmas present, John and Neal's christmas present and stopped off in the King's Arms for a quick one, running into Gareth and Kirk. Spent the evening trying to decide whether to go out or stay in. Going out eventually won, and I tootled off to The Hoist on the bike. Ran into Redmond in the moist, and had a pretty good time there. Still -

New Year's resolution # 2: Get your arse in the gym.

Sunday was the usual. Was fairly uneventful compared to last weekend, but at least got myself there early, and managed to get tickets for New Year's eve.

Been a hectic few days, but at least I'm not as bad as I was last weekend. I have been having a few black thoughts, but seem to have them mostly under control. I have been having these wierd feelings though - it's now been nearly a year without mum, and the longer I spend without her, the more important John becomes to me. Just getting to thinking how although we've been together five years, it's only just now that I feel like my life with him has seriously begun.

Anyway, it's Christmas eve, and I have to go wrap his presents. A Merry Christmas to anyone who's reading this - special Happy Holidays to Jim, and thanks for the inspiration.

posted at 9:48 PM •

Goodbye to Peter, who's off to Oz for Christmas. I still think he should be having a bar-bee on the beach though - it doesn't seem right.

posted at 5:03 PM •

Need to leave some time between that last post. The start of the week as you see, was not a good place. Maybe it was the comedown, maybe it was just a hormonal thing, or maybe I was just stressed out by the whole season's cheer thing. I'm back to my usual self again for the time being - presents dispatched to appropriate relatives, and even a bit of a bounce in my step.

By way of a buffer post, something completely different. It's interesting the things I find interesting these days. Having for a spouse a bit of a european historian, in the last five years, I've developed something of a fascination for the subject. My interest is flavoured by the fact that a lot of the stuff I learn about, I've never heard of, and how relevant it still is today.

Makes you wonder about the whole nature of 'education' - the institution of school and university - and the inquisitive mind. My schooling wasn't particularly enlightening until I reached A-levels. Up to that point, school was just one competition after another. Learning was formulated and formularised. The biggest problem for me was that I was very good at the system. I say that was my biggest problem, because in many ways I didn't start the real process of learning and understanding the world until I got myself well away from the educational system (with a few notable exceptions, such as Gill Wray - a wonderful teacher who obviously delighted in exposing an eager bunch of art students to stuff that, while it had no worth from the vaunted perspective of matriculation, was truly educational).

Looking back on those days, it's quite funny to think how I quite unconsciously abused and exploited the system. I was truly cut-throat in my pursuit of grades, but at all times never expending more effort than was really necessary. Homework was my main battleground, for in the newly meritocratic world of the GCSE, exams were beginning to be seen as *bad*, and coursework *good*. This rather noble situation meant I could quite happily exploit my fellow students hard work. Many times, copying their homework whilst giving it a little tweak resulted in getting a higher grade myself. Genius!

The only problem was that I learned very little - apart from a smattering of mathematical formulae, a bit of computing terminology and the requisite physical laws. I've often regretted the squandering of all that learning, but really I think I should regret the fact that I was stuck in a system that had nothing to teach.

Just as a footnote - if there's any history teachers out there reading this - if you want to give your students a brilliant grasp on European history, get them to watch the Eurovision Song Contest, and give a report on the Baltic voting block.

posted at 11:45 AM •

This is a difficult entry - it's one I've been dreading to write, ever since the first notion of writing a blog came up. It's the reason why I've dithered and put off doing it. Even as I'm writing this, I don't know how I'm going to get to the end and post. I just don't have the words to express what I'm feeling, and I don't want to carry on writing trivial stuff, but I'm going to try nevertheless.

Where do I start? How do I express the grief inside me, that I'm running from, trying to hide from, trying to avoid confronting? Maybe I can't all in one go - maybe that's an important thing to realise. I have no idea whether writing this is going to help me, and in many ways, I don't think I'm ready for this, but maybe I can just try.

Last night, in the most unexpected of places, at the most unexpected time, I was confronted with something I really shouldn't have been thinking about in my state. I met this guy, who for some reason wanted to have a conversation - and started off with the most annoying of questions for me.

"Where are you from?"

That question sends shivers up my spine. It cuts to the very heart of who I am, and leaves me feeling embarrased and fake. Where am I from? What is the answer to that question when you're from nowhere? Why does it cause me so much discomfort to be asked that question? Anyway, I short-circuited the usual prolonged song and dance that happens whenever most people ask me that question - I laid my hat in the Isle of Man, and left the blanks for another time when I was less off my face.

Now, usually when you tell people you're from the Isle of Man, you get one of three reactions - either they immediately mistake it for the Isle of Wight, and tell you how they went to a rock festival there once, or they make an amusing comment about three legs, or cats with no tails. However, this time I got the third possibilty... "I've been there..."

I tried to look uninterested as they guy the asked me what part of the island I lived and started telling me how much he loved the place. He seemed to think himself an expert on the island when I told him I lived in Tromode, and he'd never heard of it. He carried on and on, and just wouldn't stop, and I was getting increasingly freaked out by this point.

Just so you don't think that that's the whole point of this entry, I guess I'm going to get to the difficult part now - the reason why I don't want to think about the Isle of Man. In the Isle of Man, on January the 12th, 2002 at 10:15am, my mum died. Nearly a year ago, my life came apart. All my hopes and dreams were destroyed in the ten days I watched my mum die, and I haven't begun to put things back together.

That's as much as I can write at the moment. I don't know what I expect to get from writing this, and I don't know whether I can bear to read this tomorrow. I'm going to post, and turn away from the PC, and smile & try to put my face back on...the guy from nowhere.

posted at 8:13 PM •

Needless to say, no Christmas presents. However, I stopped off at John and Neal's and got some great ideas.

So, getting myself together for Vauxhall Tavern, which of course if anyone knows me, I do every Sunday. Proper post tomorrow when I get myself into work - obviously I'll not be doing any work!

posted at 1:52 PM •

Sleeps.......

God, I feel like I could sleep the entire day, but I really need to get myself together and hit the shops. I've got to get my Christmas shopping done today - Mandy and Nan for definite - and I need to pick up some Christmas cards. Feeling bloody ratty and knackered. This is going to be such fun.

posted at 1:48 PM •

And while looking for pics of Pam Ann wiv wot to decorate the previous entry, I came across this woofer.

I'm off to the Edinburgh Festival next year!!

posted at 11:47 AM •

"Pam Ann's Mile High Club" was pretty excellent last night on C4. I've not been watching "The Comedy Lab", after catching Matt Lucas's limp attempt at sci-fi sit-com, and switching off half way through. Still, Pam Ann is a different matter, as I've seen her act a couple of times, and wanted to see how she translated it to the screen. Set and filmed in a real (or maybe super-realistic simulation of) airplane, everything just worked so much better than it does on stage. Not that it doesn't work on stage, but when she does the trolley routine ("Touch the trolley, and run to the galley" - all together now), it usually takes a few seconds for the audience to catch on. Having said that, the audience at the average Pam Ann gig is usually pretty trolleyed themselves, so it would take them a couple of seconds to get anything.

As I'd been telling John, a lot of her stuff is just incredibly old crap stuff, but given an excellent fresh spin. Take the 'turbulence' routine for example... Pam gets the audience jostling up and down (audience participation - do you see?) - and tells them the flight is experiencing turbulence. What does that mean it's time for? That's right - SCALDING HOT COFFEE. The whole thing is just basically 'clown-with-a-bucket-of-water" but without the scary makeup but with a dollop of observational humour thrown in. Genius.

I'm having consumer loyalty guilt now though, after my brief chat with 'The Dame Edna Experience'/Johnathan at 'La Trois' last Sunday. He did look a wee bit cross when I asked him whether he'd be watching the show this week - and it gets you thinking whether he's jealous that Pam Ann got a big tv break and not him.

Arguably, Pam Ann has got a slighty better USP than D.E.E, no matter how talented and funny and amazing he is - who's going to want to watch a drag show of a drag show? The world is just not ready.

posted at 11:37 AM •

For about the sixth, seventh, eighth time in recent months, I received this wierd email, which I've decided is a virus (ha ha, take that, Microsoft OS monoculture). The email seems to be bouncing back from this guy Alistair Jeffs at Hutchison 3G (a company I have only the vaguest links with through the company I work for), and contains fishy looking attachments - I'll spare you the grisly nerdish details.

So, this time, I decided to have a wee snoop on this guy, and see if I could find out anything. Google dilligently comes back with a five page footprint, and I begin to get the feeling that he's a fairly high up honcho somewhere in the world of the web. Possibly high up enough to piss someone off, and write a virus implicating him?

Possibly. God, I'm such a Nancy Drew.

The first hit on the results is to "the mostly-London-based Haddock mailing list", which turns out to be a directory of photos. Lots of pictures of pale, anaemic looking web monkeys - and -
*splutter* - who's that? Grinning like a Cheshire Cat on MDMA is Zelda - annoying friend of a friend, and purveyor of pseudy urban shite-fic. I immediately give up my crusade against Alistair Jeffs, and start browsing through page after page of people having fun, with Zelda popping up infrequently, usually with that same gummy grin.

These kind of conjunctions seem to crop up all the time in London, but less and less lately, as my 'web-professionals' social orbit gets increasingly remote, and I find myself roughly in the vicinity of Omicron Perseii VII. Two years ago, I was king of the world, cushy job in a fairly cool in a down-to-earth sort of way web-establishment, buzzing social life, and more contacts in the web-world than you could shake an animated gif at. And then I got made redundant. Goodbye cool job, endless parties, interesting contacts - and hello obscurity.

Makes me wonder who I was two years ago. Have I really changed that much, or have I just started looking at the world differently? What do I want from life?

posted at 11:15 AM •

So, here it is...the new look.
Finally goofed off work long enough to put together a design that I'm at least halfway proud of. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be posting proper stuff - I promise.

posted at 6:23 PM •