UPDATE!

Monday 12th July 2010

I am going to finally start blogging on a regular basis, providing i can A) be bothered and B) understand how to use this damn computer.

My last post was from a monologue i wrote as part of my Performance Art degree at South Bank, which is centered around new writing and devising. My new posts will be a collaboration of my creative writing and just daily blogging. However, what i had for breakfast and last night romance i feel will not be a highlighted feature. after all i am not Paris Hilton and don't intend to sell out.

Weekend update:

Richard James @ the annual Gillingham Terrace street party, Bath. This years theme was dead celebrities. I was tempted to go as myself, as having been on television a few times i count myself as a ZLISTER (joking) OF COURSE! Sarcasm aside, i decided to go as the fabulous and officially dead, Andy Warhol. Picture above!

Yes... Andy Warhol, not Myra Hindley! As if someone asked me if i had dressed as her... She may have been a monster

but bitch got style y'all! :P

I have a slight obsession with Warhol. He was a bold man who didn't conform.

Famous for his bold artwork, factories and the people who we're around him,

i feel very connected to him. Perhaps, if i move to Hackney Wick, i too can live the life of Warhol.

The scene in Hackney Wick is amazing. Little rich kids in disused factories, having massive parties

and making art. It is rather dreamy. However, i am not a rich kid looking for a personality i just

want to be in an artistic community where you are free to explore your creativity.

Ok, Papa has to go and have some wine and possibly contact Freddie (the man in the photo)

Perhaps more on him in my next blog.

MONOLOGUE ONE:

I must confess I sometimes wish this were true. That it never happened, that I’m dreaming. That these walls couldn’t tell our story.

That I never heard your name. But my reflection can’t lie to me. No matter how wide the smile…

Fuck everything ‘s changing…Your fat, your thin, your up, your down

Seasons, cultures, politics, fashions and apparently everybody is gay…well nothing lasts forever.

Art, romances, food (pause) Another bottle empty… I feel empty

I know it’s a primitive thing to want; to need something so bad… but why is it frowned upon? We all do it.

We’re addicts, technology, booze, sex, chocolate, drugs – everyone has an addiction. Tequila – does it make you happy? Smart advertisements make us believe in how we should lead our lives. Bollocks to your simulated reality. No one ever questions it – the elephant in the room.

I look at my reflection and think (pause)

The city lights are constant and, the beat, pulse never stops. Identity, the shoes we wear – every step leaves it’s mark imprinted in the dust. I look at my reflection, a blank expression, an old friend. We are dust.

The coffee I sip, the smile I draw to shadow the confusion from last nights romance. He loves me, he loves me not, he… he… nothing!

Breathe in, breathe outI hold your jumper close to me, the material is harsh it revitalizes me until I realize it’s a jumper and not love, not you.

Another wrinkle painted another hair lost. If constant change unifies us, then time is everything…

So if you could love. If you have loved (pause) Then you might understand…

I must confess I sometimes wish this were true. That it never happened, that I’m dreaming.That these walls couldn’t tell our story.

That I never heard your name. But my reflection can’t lie to me. No matter how wide the smile…

Sometimes we forget to reflect my friend. Take time for you and you only. It’s always a rush, do this, do that. Eat ,sleep, work, drink, smoke, fuck – why is it always with the fuck… and your sex?

I’ve had enough of your sex. In fact, you and your sex can have some of my off and fuck. You do the math. (pause)

Still, the stillness is beautiful… don’t you find?Close your eyes and just listen.

Descartes ‘I think therefore I am’… but he assumes there is an I within his premise. Who am i? who are we?

Where we are at the moment doesn’t matter. Don’t think, just feel. To live, breathe. Another day, another place, another brick in the wall.