I’m awake and you’re breathing

Flash 12
Prompt: I’m awake and you’re breathing
Characters: Unnamed
Timeline: Present day
Author’s comments: I clearly spend too much time home alone.

I woke up to what sounded like our front door opening. For a few moments I was stuck in disorientation, unsure if the dream I had been having about being trapped in a tube station after the last train was real or not. When my heart rate eventually slowed to reasonable pace I realised that I was not desperately trying to find away out of the deserted underground but rather in my own bedroom. I also realised that there was no way the sound I had heard was the front door because no one but me could possibly be home.

My housemates were all away for Easter weekend at a wedding of a friend that they had known before I moved into the house and while half-hearted invitations had been handed out, the thought of spending that much money on train fare to spend time combating my social awkwardness and pretending to like a bunch of strangers seemed like unnecessary work. It had been hard enough moving into an established house share where my predecessor had been resident for three years. He had taken off to travel and I had inherited his room. It’s not to say the rest of the house hadn’t embraced me with open arms and included me in all their traditions and adventures, the house just felt as if it was theirs and at this point I was a still a guest.

At first when they said they were going away, I had been strangely relieved. No matter how wonderful your housemates are there is a certain stress that comes with sharing your space with people you don’t really know. You wonder if you are being too noisy or if they’ve noticed your penchant for eating nutella on rice cakes (which really isn’t food) at midnight. You politely concede to watching reruns of Friends when ideally you were dying to watch Star Wars… again. You wonder if you are cleaning too much or not enough.

Although in some ways, it is the presence of others that makes us cling to the semblance of a normal life. After two days I had already switched day with night and I was up until 5am watching DVDs, eating erratically… concoctions that could never have masqueraded as meals. I threw together combinations of clothes that didn’t make sense… knee socks and my ex-boyfriends boxers. I took showers at 3am and left all the lights on.

Today was the third day and the novelty was wearing off. It’s a four-bedroom house and the sheer cavernous emptiness of the house was more than I could fill with the noise I was able to make. If I stayed on the ground floor in the lounge or kitchen it felt as if the house above me yawned a strange silence and if I went up to my bedroom it was as if the house below did not even exist, as if anything could be happening down there while I was absent.

And then I heard it. Footsteps. Footsteps below me on the ground floor. They couldn’t possibly be home early. The wedding had only been that afternoon. In fact Laura had rung me drunk and giggling only hours before to tell me that they were considering staying an extra day. I told myself that it was not possible that there was anyone in the house. I was hearing the pipes expanding and contracting. I was hearing my own heart hammering in my ears. My mind was playing tricks on me because I was home alone.

I heard the footsteps come up the stairs and move across the landing. I gave up on my attempts to pretend to myself that there was no one in the house. Alec and Laura’s bedroom door opened next to mine and the sound of someone rifling through their possessions was unmistakable through the paper-thin walls. I thought about how many times I had wished the walls were thicker. Ironic.

I lay there contemplating my options. If I turned on the light the intruder would instantly know there was someone in the room. I scrambled on my bedside table for my mobile. Maybe if I rang 999 and whispered into the phone I wouldn’t be heard. And then, with a wave of nausea, I remembered plugging my phone into my charger after I spoke to Laura… and leaving it downstairs.

Alec and Laura’s bedroom door closed and the footsteps came towards my room. He was so close I could hear him breathing outside my door. As the door handle turned, I realised that I was trapped, like a rat in the corner of a snake tank just waiting to be devoured.

Let’s spend tonight on top of the world

Finally, the first gig of the year has been attended. I’ve been feeling a bit listless lately and really struggling to get myself into a properly good mood. After going to my first gig in over a month last night, I realised what was missing. Live music! Today I feel fabulous!

Last night, my ever dedicated gig buddy B and I went to the Electric Ballroom in Camden to see Boys Like Girls. It’s a big venue and the audience was clearly very keen to get up front so the queue was outrageous. We nearly froze to death waiting to get in. The queue was so long it went passed the local church where there seemed to be some kind of prayer meeting going on. As the congregation arrived, they couldn’t have looked more puzzled by the multicoloured, glowstick wearing freaks littering the pavement.

First up we had Every Avenue. We only caught the second half of their set but they were really fun in that kind of All Time Low pop-punk style. I hadn’t heard them before but I’d check them out again.

Metro Station was insanely well-received by the crowd but I’ve got to say I was disappointed. They struggle to translate their music, which sounds pretty good recorded, to a live show and they lose all the little electro nuances despite the fact that the guy who does their synths was playing his heart out. Further detraction came from the inability of their dual front men to shut up. Dear Trace Cyrus… if you are not Gerard Way, you are not allowed to swear like him… it just makes you look like a tool. Also if you are completely manorexic please keep your shirt ON. The aforementioned Trace is painfully, frighteningly thin. He’s so thin, he makes Noel Fielding look portly. I wanted to throw a burger at him. I like skinny guys but this guy’s hipbones could give you paper cuts. They finished with Control, which sounded good but really the highlight of their set was watching their skunk-haired keyboard player dance like he was possessed. And the spotting of “disgruntled mom” (clearly we were more interested in the crowd than the band) who was leaning against a pillar with four rucksacks on her back, a glow stick around her neck and a look on her face that clearly said, “the next time my children want to a gig their father can take them.”

By the time Boys Like Girls came on the crowd had reached fever pitch. Martin had already been geeing everyone up during sound check by making metal horns behind the backdrops so everyone could just see his hand. Guaranteed teenage girl frenzy. I was instantly reminded why I love these guys. They just have the most incredible band chemistry, particularly between self-confessed best friends Martin and Paul. Added to this is the fact that they just sound damned good live and Martin is mental and entertaining enough to keep the entire audience in the palm of his hand from start to finish. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that he is totally kidnapworthy. Despite the fact that BLG are essentially a guitar-pop band, with some encouragement. we had not only a circle pit but one of the biggest walls of death I have ever seen. It looked like an Aiden show. Of course B and I were watching from a civilised distance in the balcony. The show ended with Martin flinging himself, headfirst, guitar and all into the adoring arms of the audience before emerging almost trouserless, with mussed up hair and cheeky grin still intact.

It was a great start to the gigging year and I now cannot wait for Chiodos next Friday. I’m back to my bootlegging ways, so you can check out this little video I made of 5 Minutes To Midnight and photos are here. I took a lot of photos… of Martin… oh dear…

If Amy Winehouse wore her skills cloud t-shirt…

• Find out more about Skills Clouds
• Check out ifeveryoneworetheirskillscloud.com
• Join the facebook group
• See Leona Lewis’ skills cloud
• See Paris Hilton’s skills cloud

My BlackBerry is posessed!

I feel like I am dating Phil, the support person from Vodafone. So far we have had three “dates” of varying length. Well really I just turn up at his place of work and harass him but I spend more time with him than any other man I know and he is more dedicated to my problems than anyone else.

My CrackBerry is still broken. In fact Phil and I have come to the conclusion that it is possessed. Not only does it manage to reinstall uninstalled applications, it turns itself on and off and has gone through two new batteries in two days. It has a demon soul! It also somehow managed to function normally in the past despite the fact that it was set up completely incorrectly (not by Phil) when I bought it.

It was this dodgy set up issue that has lead me to the conclusion that I am unwilling to deal with anyone except Phil (who is off today) and therefore we will continue our CrackBerry recovery project/relationship tomorrow since Wednesday is his day off (if anyone is interested, he will be getting his car engine fixed). It looks like the CrackBerry is going away for repairs… when I told Phil that this would be ok because I have a back up phone… it just doesn’t send or receive texts, he sunk his head into his hands and said, “I suppose you expect me to fix that too?” Of course, I do!

I am attempting to derive humour from the situation. After all, if you don’t laugh you will cry. And then your mascara runs!

If anyone else needs a laugh… check out this little story that proves you should always check your child’s homework (courtesy of Kelly).

This is what the child drew when asked what she wanted to be when she grew up.

This is the mother’s letter to the teacher on the following day:

Dear Mrs Jones,

I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer.
I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit.  I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it.    Her picture doesn’t show me dancing around a pole.  It’s supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot.
From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.

Sincerely,
Mrs Smith

This website for comparing meerkats, you son of a mongoose!¬

I wanted to let everyone who reads this blog know that I have become part of the Twitter “revolution”. For those who don’t know, Twitter is kind of like the status updates on facebook and you can follow people as they update what they are doing. What makes it quite cool is that some pretty interesting famous people do it. I, for example, am following Barack Obama. So if anyone else does the Twitter thing, please come and follow me here. And if you are a twitterer please let me know so I can follow you. I’ve already found Neil, Jason, Lyndon, Saoirse and Tash. I haven’t decided if I like Twitter yet so at this point, it’s just a trial.

Has anyone else discovered the genius that is Comparethemeerkat.com? I absolutely LOVE this marketing campaign, even though it is ridiculously silly. Imagine the challenge, with all of the insurance comparison sites from Confused.com to Money Supermarket to Tesco Compare offering a virtually identical service, how do you make yourself stand out?

Comparethemarket.com has decided to put the benefits of being able to compare a zillion different insurance quotes at once aside and gone for the sneaky approach. Instead their adverts feature a “public service” communication from Aleksandr a Russian meerkat (do they have meerkats in Russia?) who is somewhat annoyed that the British public is confusing his amazing meerkat comparison service Comparethemeerkat.com with Comparethemarket.com. Aleksandr even has his own site where he answers FAQs and sends out press releases and of course you can compare meerkats. This is my meerkat.

Other than being absolutely hilarious (when I was sick, I spent hours laughing at this), it does of course firmly stick Comparethemarket.com in the mind of anyone looking for insurance and there is loads of cross-branding. Check out the ad here and let me know what you think!

The techno-hex strikes again

I believe I am labouring under some kind of technology curse. I finally have my Frank back and healthy… and Simon goes wrong. For those who are confused by the naming conventions, Simon is my Black(Crack)Berry. He has suddenly decided he no longer receives email and his battery lasts less than a day.

Of course this state of affairs does not work for me. I am addicted to Simon. I clutch him in my little paw constantly and in situations where I have to put him down, I put him in the periphery of my vision so I can see his light flicker when there are new messages.

So I took him to the Vodafone shop to see if my beloved mobile phone hero, Phil, could help. After helping me through numerous phone disasters, Phil instantly recognises me… and sighs. Fortunately he is a patient man. And even though he didn’t manager to fix Simon because technical support centre was closed, he gave me a free new battery and halved my tariff. I love this man!

Tomorrow I will return and hopefully the BlackBerry will actually get fixed.

I command you to go and see Slumdog Millionaire

I finally went to see Slumdog Millionaire today and I can confirm that it is every single bit as gorgeous as everyone says it is. The cinematography is resplendent in its depiction of utter squalor juxtaposed with opulence, the child actors, as well as lead Dev Patel (you might remember him as Anwar on Skins), are incredible and the story is uplifting despite the amount of violence, child abuse and destitution it covers.

The story follows Jamal, a “slumdog” who is experiencing an unprecedented run of “luck” on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Unable to believe that someone of such lowly origins, could have the knowledge he has, the show’s slimy host turns him over to the authorities on fraud charges one question from the jackpot. Through a series of flashbacks Jamal tells his life story to the police focusing on Latika, the lost love of his life.

Go and see this film. It deserves every Golden Globe, Oscar and Bafta award it has been nominated for.

This is my desperation in action

Flash 11
Prompt: This is my desperation in action
Characters: Chris Fraser and Harrison Blake (Amped)
Timeline: About episode 4 of season 1.
Author’s comments: Phoebe has agreed to take them on tour but is expecting them to front some of the money.

I watched Blake while he sketched agitated at the desk in the corner or our room… or his room anyway as he feels the need to point out to Tyler and I about twenty times a day.  He was drawing money… pots of gold, piles of £20 notes, flowers made out of dollar bills.
“Blake,” I said. He ignored me. “Blake!”
“What?”
“Are you worried about the tour money?”
“Obviously, I’m worried about the tour money,” he said. “We need to find four grand by Friday.”
“Two grand,” I said. “And it’ll be fine. I have a plan.”
“Phoebe said four grand,” said Blake, still scribbling.
“Well Tyler’s put up two grand he had stashed away from when he was a session drummer for Girls Aloud.”
“A session dru… he never ceases to amaze me. Where is Tyler anyway?”
“Hunting down that supposed girlfriend of his. Anyway about my plan…”
“Chris, if this is another plan like the one where you convinced me to take that creepy girl from the Student Union out to dinner so you could get free beer, I’m not interested…”
“Oh ye of little faith,” I said. “This is why all our previous bands have failed.”
“Our previous bands failed because they had ridiculous names and you never came to practise.”

I hate how he’s always right. It’s kind of frightening admitting that you need a voice of reason. I’m not sure where I’d have ended up if it wasn’t for Blake. We’ve been friends since we were seven. I was new at his school and he adopted me. In fact, his entire family adopted me. I am a major disappointment to my family… well to my dad anyway. My mum doesn’t really have an opinion. If my dad wants her opinion he gives it to her. For as long as I can remember I never came close to measuring up to my dad’s expectations and so rather than trying harder, I did what I do best. I rebelled and did the opposite of everything he wanted… a classic case of self-fulfilling prophesy. My dad continuously told me what a fuck-up I was and so I made sure I was one.

Blake’s family is completely different from mine. They’re all mad and everyone is just exactly who they are and everyone loves them for it… including me. No matter what I’ve done including that fire at school, talking Blake into getting tattoos when we were fourteen or scaring the shit out of Blake’s sister, Imogen, when I drunkenly climbed through her bedroom window, declared my undying love and then got sick on her bed, they were always there for me. In fact I think Blake’s mom in particular thought my exploits were hilarious.

I suppose my own mum saw me spending so much time with the Blakes as a way for me to escape from my dad’s iron rule in a way she never had. I sometimes saw her quietly staring at the tubes of paint she had never had the heart to throw away, even when my dad made her give up her art. It was my mum who had quietly bought me my first guitar, told me to hide it at Blake’s house and sent us both for lessons. I still don’t think my dad knows it was her. That’s what I was counting on for my plan.

“Watch and learn,” I said to Blake, who rolled his eyes at me. I picked up my phone and dialled.
“Mum!” I said.
Blake glared at me and shook his head in horror.
“Happy birthday, darling,” said my mum. “Your dad and I tried to ring you last night but your phone just rang.”
“I was out celebrating with some friends, mum.”
“Was Harrison there?” asked my mum. She loves Blake. “Will you give him my love?”
“Of course, mum.” The problem with mothers is that you always have to go through all the niceties first. “I wanted to thank-you for the video camera.”
“Do you like it?” she said, excited. “I mean of course your father doesn’t know but I do remember how you used to love to play with that old camcorder we had.”
Time for the plan to kick in. “Actually about that, well you know I’ve always wanted to learn about filmmaking. Well, there’s this course you can take in the summer… like a film study thing and I really want to do it.”
“That sounds lovely, dear,” said my mum. “But doesn’t that mean you won’t be coming home again this summer.”
“You can’t expect me to spend the summer with him,” I said. “It’s bad enough he’s making me study law! Anyway the important thing is that I need money for the course and you can’t tell dad.”
“Oh Christopher I don’t know if I want to be the co-conspirator in another one of your schemes. How much money?”
This was going to be the moment of truth. “Um, £2000.”
“Two thousand pounds? What is the money really for,” she said suspiciously. “Are you getting more tattoos?”
“No, mum!”
“Is it drugs? Did you get someone pregnant?” She was getting hysterical now.
“No! Mum! It’s not for anything like that. It’s for this film thing. Seriously. I mean I just want to do something creative. Something I really care about.”
She sighed. “Ok, love. When do you need it by?”
“Couple of weeks,” I said, shooting Blake a thumbs up.
“And it really isn’t for drugs?”
“Mum!”
“Alight, aright. I’ll put it your account we’ll keep it to ourselves.”
“I love you mum,” I said. “Harrison says hi.”
“I love you too, darling,” she said. “You’ll call again soon, won’t you?”
“Course, mum,” I said. “Gotta go. Bye.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” said Blake. “Your mum is such a nice lady.”
“It wasn’t really a lie,” I told him. “I’m going to film the tour.”
“One day this will all come crashing down around you,” he said.
“I live in hope,” I said.
“I’m going to find Phoebe and tell her the great news,” said Blake.

As he left the room I wondered what was different this time. We’d been in bands together our whole lives but the moment it got tough we bailed… I bailed. This time it was like the desperation, the hunger to make it was that much more intense than before. Maybe I had to admit that I was still trying to prove something to my dad. But who was Blake trying to impress?

Skins, sloppy naming and squirrel

So finally after what feels like an eternity… Skins returns to our screens for a third season with an almost entirely revamped cast. I know I am probably way too old for Skins but I’ve got to say I was as excited as a kid on Christmas.

The first episode was… interesting. I think when a show has become so cult and so stuck in your consciousness, it’s hard to be completely objective or possibly even a little objective. Tony, Sid, Cassie, Chris, Maxxie and Jal are gone and in their place we have Tony’s enigmatic, devil-may-care sister, Effy, a new three-musketeers in Cook, JJ and Freddie, a pair of twins (who have stolen my hair), a feisty lesbian and Effy’s brain-dead best friend, Pandora.

Was it shocking? Well yes… we had car accidents, beer and spliff for breakfast, nudity (and the display of possibly the worst tattoo I’ve ever seen), insane teachers, fire, sex and some instant taboo (the scene with the deaf girl, anyone?). Was it subtle? Hell no! Did I laugh? Definitely. Am I going to keep watching it? Without doubt.

I know there will be a lot of naysayers and there are already whispers that they’ve turned the brilliance of season 1 and 2 to slapstick but if anyone remembers correctly the first episode of season one had Chris taking his kit off, spitting drug dealers, overweight sexually charged Eastern Europeans, Cassie OD-ing and a car that ended up in a river.

It’s never going to be the same as the first season just like the second season wasn’t the same as the first season… it’s still better than anything else in that space on TV right now… well until Jen and I finish Amped anyway…

Now for news of the bizarre. A friend of mine works for someone who has a number of companies and just opened a new one. To save the man’s dignity, I am not going to give his last name but it starts with H and he has named his new company H….. Property Ventures. That’s right HPV. Sigh…

This is not as bizarre as one of the new Walker’s Crisps flavours. This is not a joke… I saw them in Sainsbury’s last night. Anyone brave enough to taste?

If Paris Hilton wore her skills cloud t-shirt…

I had so much fun making Leona Lewis’ skills cloud t-shirt last week that I’ve decided to do a weekly celeb skills cloud. This week we have the “lovely” Paris Hilton. You can check out more skills clouds t-shirts at ifeveryoneworetheirskillscloud.com. Or join the facebook group and post your own. Not sure what I’m going on about? Check this out…