Sometimes intoxication just wont do..

on the bus she fell a down
fighting back the tears ...where they came from she did not know
the only person she wanted to speak to was you.

walking through the park her energy was gone
a lack of motivation
will
power
self esteem
....................all gone

best friend
brother
but not a lover
.......................every breath swallowed your name

she held on tight to the pen
its all over ... wanted to call and say how i did/failed/blagged
i didnt

untill the night
nah wait.. its early morning ..
walking home

fighting back the tears once more
scroll to your name
call
....ring ring
two and its up
mutters
then i crack

cant cope with out speaking..
our tie-dye words ...
mean more to me than
crying again
tears roll down my face
6am .. the odd person walks
stop
stare
i keep on talking
with breaks to cry

and


breaks to laugh


no alcohol needed
not a drop..
not a snort...
or a hit

many think im speaking of an old lover
the eyes of another girl
the story of a different boy

just two friends
they go together like gin and tonic
but too much can make you sick
get it right and your giddy

the old lady and the wireless

a golden age
a day gone by
the old lady's snore echos through the night
unrelented the presenter continues despite the racket
falling on deaf ears
the old lady stirs as she hears a noise
she gently falls back into her slumber with news of tomorrows weather ringing in her ears

Prostitutes & Policemen @ The Attic 06.03.08

More at www.flickr.com/daisyhatami

Eurovision: Your choice (to turn off)

The word “eurovision” should send shivers down any sane persons spine. However for whatever reason I cannot help buy turn it on year in, year out and sit there glued. Actually the reason for this is very simple and any other sane person who agrees with me knows the reason; Terry Wogan. His mutterings, jokes, slight xenophopia and abject horror as yes you’ve guessed it Cyprus have gave Greece 12 points and vice versa is something that grips you to what is nothing but dross. But in that is its charm.

Sitting therefore, snuggled up raring to go with another Eurovision, admittedly only the UK contestants I sat there waiting for Terry to get into full flow. Britain’s best ( a horrifying thought in its own) would be put to the sword by Terry. However, it was just pop and more pop and after being pushed over the edge by “the regular lad from Rottherrrrum” it was time to turn off. Terry had been put into a bit part judging role.

And that’s when it dawned on me. Eurovision without Terry Wogan is just like being stuck on a caravan park listening to the cabaret covering a Britney Spears song ever so badly. Why the hell would we want Eurovision to be ever just be about the music ? I have no reason to sit up and wonder who the hell are these so called judges eating up valuable Terry time.

I don’t care about how UK’s entry got there. I don’t even care what they sing. Letting us see the true horror of eurovision just magnifies how important Mr Wogan truly is.

Lightspeed Champion at Manchester Fopp

More to come ..

A blast from the past.

We all remember Doug. The loveable rogue who desperately tried to get the girl and failed (some say he shot himself in the end, these reports are of course unconfirmed !). Who would begrudge the Tintin-a-like character and his dog Porkchop their moment of glory the one last time?

I wouldn't.



And now into the slightly distrubing world of Ren and Stimpy. The joyous duo providing a weird and wonderful insight into .. God knows what. Walrus anyone ?



Ah. Or should I say AHHHH! Real Monsters which first hit the screen mid 90s terrorised my early channel 4 viewing. It was a worrying thought that I would be rudely interupted while I was relieving myself by a unsightly monster.

Needless to say, it never happened.



I remember having a toy for most of the characters for this and I'm not embarrassed to say I still play with them every now and again. Oh yes I do. I still dream of making out with Cheetara.



Check the pecks!

I don't know what made him cool. Was it the blonde hair ? The massive muscles ? Or the blissfull ignorance of Johnny that everyone thought he was well.. a bit of a knob?

Maybe it was all these things. Who knows? This Elvis soundalike was brilliant.

And of course a notable mention to the below

• catdog
• pinky and the brain
• rocko's modern life

Ah, memories of the 90s.

Lightspeed Champion in Slideshow form

Lightspeed Champion at The Roadhouse, Manchester 17/02/2008

The set can also be viewed here

Letters and Christmas Cards.... [Originally Posted 10 NOV 07

I have always loved writing Christmas cards and sending letters to people. Those who i used to write to now mainly email me, maybe the odd postcard. Today things got worse ! I went on fakebook... yes i do have a fakebook as people only seem to contact me over social networking sites, and it seems that fakebook is the favour tie of most. Also it seems if you do not sign into facebook for over a week or so you will miss out on a party out 'special event' unless you have seen the person who is 'hosting' the event. In which case they will say " why have you not accepted my event, are you not coming " News to me i say ! Anyway that is a different issue, i went on fakebook today and in the list of millions of applications people have asked me to add there was one which was a Christmas card one.The preview of it read like this...

Christmas Cards
By Pixel Apps
Ho! Ho! Ho! Christmas is just a few weeks away - so why not spread some festive cheer by sending Christmas Cards to your friends! Your friends can send cards to you too, and you can even attach Xmas Cards to messages and wall posts!

I don't like this..people will use this to send Christmas cards rather than actually taking the time to write REAL Xmas cards and send/give them to friends and such ! I love to do this as those you don't see as often will write more of a note in the card... citing ! So please do not make me add any of these stupid applications on fakebook/myface/whatever contact me by phone by letter,Christmas cards !

Lets be all old fashioned and out there!

A primark of the times

A Primark of the times

The nauseous meandering around a cheap shop floor , the same solemn glum looks greeting you as you try to pick up the hottest item that you just saw on someone else for a fraction of the price. The drab and morbid reality that it will make you a carbon copy of the next person you walk past on the street. Ah yes this is the fashion age of similarity. Gone have the exciting punk era, the uncomfortable flairs era, the Britpop age we find a decade defined by nothing more than carbon-a-lites be it from fashion to music. A nation losing an identity due to an identikit environment and you can not help but take a jealous glance into mainland Europe which is so prepared to fight for what they believe in. A quick glance to our French brothers showing how they are prepared to make themselves known through riot whether the right path or not their dedication is admirable. A reminder of an age gone by when the average Britain was not scared to be rebellious, would we see a Johnny Rotten today?

However with two years to go it is far too early to write off this much maligned decade. A decade which has seemingly frightened off the ghost of a nervy overhanging pop music culture, one that has started to write off the hour to hour snoozeathon which is known as Big Brother, which has started to stand up and try and regain their rights whether you believe in their protest or not and one that is seemingly standing in good stead on the music front. While there are numerous so called “indie” bands which are now filling the nations every moment the fact is there is still the odd gem of glory. Bands such as Lightspeed Champion and Glasvegas now light the way for a new era of music. Venues such as Night & Day café offer an underground feel and offering the intimate feeling that music so craves and needs.

So while we might all be sat there pawing at our new fashion look wondering where and when I happened to become the latest stereotype the slight glint of hope still peers out for us all via a nation adapting to a truly globalised environment. Maybe this dip in individuality is just a case of humanity taking a breather, taking it all in, seeing where the bolts are on those shackles and waiting for the moment to break free again.

There is only One Stop for me.

A spot in a place that I call home. I’ve been sat here now for 2 years. If this was Hollywood the print would be perfectly ingrained on the floor. In this place however there is no glory. No glitz. No glamour to my tale. I am homeless. I live off the map. I have no fixed abode. I just am.

Day by day I see the world go by. A world too busy too see my plight. Too busy with their own world to notice the bearded man looking up at them. You learn to deal with the looks away. The stares. The crossing of the road as they approach. There is only so much rejection one can take before taking the rocky yet seemingly inevitable path that we all are living on in Withington.

So I live my own adventures. I live each day as it is the last. Making sure I can do as much as I can to wipe away the harsh pain of reality. The cycle that is slowly destroying me is my only way of existence. The solace of a couple of students offering me a hot meal will keep me going for a few hours. What then ? The drink makes the pain go away. The drink keeps it in context. Am I a lesser person than you for being where I am today?

Don’t think you are immune to my fate. Think of that the next time you pass the bearded man sitting on the street begging for recognition.