This is a fairly mundane story:
Today, I went to visit one of my friends who is very sick. I brought her some flowers, and my copies of "I Capture the Castle" and "Stardust" to read.
As I left and embarked on the mile walk back to my house, it was early evening but the sun was still out. I watched people walking by the river in their t-shirts and sunglasses, and thought about how entertaining it is how we react to a little bit of summer here in England.
I made a point to smile at everybody I came across. This is a game I play with myself sometimes, or I guess you could call it more of a research project, because people's responses often depend hugely on the weather or the place, but sometimes age groups. A girl, aged about five, waved at me. An old man reading a newspaper on a bench grinned back. But a woman in her thirties made a point of looking at the ground. I don't know if she was being stereotypical because I'm a teenager, although I don't look very threatening, or if people just don't like eye contact with strangers.
I passed Arthur's Grave: a monument dedicated to Arthur Brown, an American pilot in WWII who crashed his plane to save our town. It is always covered in flowers. When I used to go running by the river with my dad, in the winter months in thick hoodies and hats, he set the rule that without fail we always had to shout, "Hi Arthur!" as we passed the grave. Even when I'm walking past it on my own, I still whisper it under my breath.
Outside somebody's house on the main road there was a table with tall, blooming raspberry plants on it, in buckets of water, an honesty box and a sign. I put some money in the box and took one for my mum, not thinking about how heavy it would be or how long I had to walk. I must have looked kind of hilarious struggling to carry a giant raspberry plant for half a mile.
As I walked home I saw a girl stood on the patio in front of her house across the street from where I walked. She was maybe six or seven, though I'm bad at guessing ages, wearing a long and bright pink coloured dress and dancing in the carefree way that you do when you're a child. It wasn't until the few seconds break on the Bon Iver record I was listening to, between "Flume" and"Lump Sun" that I realised she was loudly singing S Club 7's "Reach For The Stars" as she danced, whilst gazing up to the sky and wearing a very concentrated expression. I wondered when it becomes normal to stop doing that, and when it's better to look down out of awkwardness when a stranger smiles at you.
No conclusion, no revelation or shocking twists. I just think people's habits are really interesting sometimes, especially on an English summer's day.
Saturday, 26 May 2012
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
The Inconvenience of Change
From a children’s book called “Once There Were Giants”, to relatives telling me “Look how much you’ve grown!” and American films with cheesy graduations and proms and goodbyes I think I’ve always been told and prepared about how much I was going to Change and Grow Up and Everything Would Be Different. The idea of everything changing indicates so much: people being gone, buildings being gone.
And up until recently, recently being last Sunday night, I didn’t really think that was happening at all. There’ve been a few times over the last few years when I’ve realised I’m older than I feel, like the realisation when I was in Year 9 at school that there were people my age and in my classes at school that were having sex and doing drugs and whilst I probably didn’t seem less mature than them I still felt – still feel – about eight years old. It’s just weird the moment you realise it’s not just in TV soaps, it’s real, and it’s not happening to far off characters you’re introduced to in teachers’ warning PowerPoints but people you sit next to in Maths or went to primary school with.
The other evening it was a few simultaneous factors marking change that made me realise how quickly things have moved without me realising – I was smoking, it was the night before the first of my GCSE exams, resulting in the end of high school in a few weeks. And the place I was – the closed down site of a garden centre and small wildlife zoo which I visited frequently during my childhood with my parents, went to to buy candles in a phase I had in my early teens, and more recently have used to learn to drive in the closed-down car park or just sit around in the surrounding fields to be on my own.
Then I thought about why I hadn’t been attentive to all of this changing and happening. It’s really just because all I spend my time doing is walking around the town and getting buses and trains away with my friends, two and three person parties, and then reading books and eating meals and going to concerts and homework and sitting at my computer. The only things that we have to mark time, really, is Firsts. And I’ve had a lot of Firsts in the last year but they don’t seem like the things that make time pass either, like the first time travelling alone, the first published reviewing of music, the first time drunk and the first New Year’s Eve on a beach. And Lasts too, because coming up is my last day of compulsory education, my last time all of my school year will be in one place, and probably the last time I’ll see a few people.
I can’t work out if time is marked by these, the things that get referred to as “milestones” or just when you look up one day and think about the fact that your body is different, despite never seeing in the mirror that you suddenly are taller or have different eyes or longer hair. It’s really strange, and I can’t come to any conclusion except that they don’t suddenly baffle you with introducing moving metal boxes on wheels. They do it slowly.
***
In other news…
- I’ve gotten pretty into Ben Howard recently.
- I read a really brilliant and unusual book, called “Kafka on the Shore” and it’s by Haruki Murakami.
- As of tomorrow, I will never have another RE lesson and I couldn’t be happier.
I’ll see you soon.
Lizzie x
Oh, and a song:
"Bikes" by Lucy Rose
And up until recently, recently being last Sunday night, I didn’t really think that was happening at all. There’ve been a few times over the last few years when I’ve realised I’m older than I feel, like the realisation when I was in Year 9 at school that there were people my age and in my classes at school that were having sex and doing drugs and whilst I probably didn’t seem less mature than them I still felt – still feel – about eight years old. It’s just weird the moment you realise it’s not just in TV soaps, it’s real, and it’s not happening to far off characters you’re introduced to in teachers’ warning PowerPoints but people you sit next to in Maths or went to primary school with.
The other evening it was a few simultaneous factors marking change that made me realise how quickly things have moved without me realising – I was smoking, it was the night before the first of my GCSE exams, resulting in the end of high school in a few weeks. And the place I was – the closed down site of a garden centre and small wildlife zoo which I visited frequently during my childhood with my parents, went to to buy candles in a phase I had in my early teens, and more recently have used to learn to drive in the closed-down car park or just sit around in the surrounding fields to be on my own.
Then I thought about why I hadn’t been attentive to all of this changing and happening. It’s really just because all I spend my time doing is walking around the town and getting buses and trains away with my friends, two and three person parties, and then reading books and eating meals and going to concerts and homework and sitting at my computer. The only things that we have to mark time, really, is Firsts. And I’ve had a lot of Firsts in the last year but they don’t seem like the things that make time pass either, like the first time travelling alone, the first published reviewing of music, the first time drunk and the first New Year’s Eve on a beach. And Lasts too, because coming up is my last day of compulsory education, my last time all of my school year will be in one place, and probably the last time I’ll see a few people.
I can’t work out if time is marked by these, the things that get referred to as “milestones” or just when you look up one day and think about the fact that your body is different, despite never seeing in the mirror that you suddenly are taller or have different eyes or longer hair. It’s really strange, and I can’t come to any conclusion except that they don’t suddenly baffle you with introducing moving metal boxes on wheels. They do it slowly.
***
In other news…
- I’ve gotten pretty into Ben Howard recently.
- I read a really brilliant and unusual book, called “Kafka on the Shore” and it’s by Haruki Murakami.
- As of tomorrow, I will never have another RE lesson and I couldn’t be happier.
I’ll see you soon.
Lizzie x
Oh, and a song:
"Bikes" by Lucy Rose
Friday, 20 April 2012
"the empty bed"
I will wait until they are in bed and then I will go out and I will set the world on fire.
Away from the walls that my hopes are too fat for, I will be the line, the highlighted journey you follow across maps from a bird’s eye view, as I board trains that tunnel and chuckle away into the night. I will run through cities, cities that make me things I’m not, colour me in the same way as dresses and bright shades of lipstick could.
I will find things, some which I looked for and some which I didn’t – places with the uncertain familiarity of the faint orange glow at the end of a cigarette in the dark.
I will find music, I will find laughter and noise and heart. I will find people who belong to it all and we’ll dance, in sweaty, fairy-lit bars that stench of sticky beer and of smoke.
I will walk, I will get lost. I will lose, find, lose, find, and at some point I will learn the way.
My shoes will be muddy, my back will ache. But even then, when my eyes are prickling and through stations I draw closer and closer to what I recognise I won’t have any fear anymore because I’ll have done it, I’ll have been and come back in the blink of an eyelid, in a puff of smoke and I will have won.
When it’s 6am, and I’m oddly enough back between sheets, closing eyes against the uncomfortable pale grey of the early morning sky I’ll still know. And as my worn and achy body goes to sleep, in the bed nobody noticed was vacant, I will for a while believe that I am no insomniac and no depressive but a wanderer.
They’ll never know.
Away from the walls that my hopes are too fat for, I will be the line, the highlighted journey you follow across maps from a bird’s eye view, as I board trains that tunnel and chuckle away into the night. I will run through cities, cities that make me things I’m not, colour me in the same way as dresses and bright shades of lipstick could.
I will find things, some which I looked for and some which I didn’t – places with the uncertain familiarity of the faint orange glow at the end of a cigarette in the dark.
I will find music, I will find laughter and noise and heart. I will find people who belong to it all and we’ll dance, in sweaty, fairy-lit bars that stench of sticky beer and of smoke.
I will walk, I will get lost. I will lose, find, lose, find, and at some point I will learn the way.
My shoes will be muddy, my back will ache. But even then, when my eyes are prickling and through stations I draw closer and closer to what I recognise I won’t have any fear anymore because I’ll have done it, I’ll have been and come back in the blink of an eyelid, in a puff of smoke and I will have won.
When it’s 6am, and I’m oddly enough back between sheets, closing eyes against the uncomfortable pale grey of the early morning sky I’ll still know. And as my worn and achy body goes to sleep, in the bed nobody noticed was vacant, I will for a while believe that I am no insomniac and no depressive but a wanderer.
They’ll never know.
Sunday, 15 April 2012
blubbering about music, putting off my biology paper
I’ll tell you in advance this post will be naïve and soppy and stupid. Especially this next sentence:
Music is just so, so good.
I don’t know if it’s that I forget or that I underestimate how it can make me feel, but every so often the way that listening to certain artists and bands can comfort me is just ridiculous. It’s maybe even wrong because it’s a form of comfort that isn’t quite real, even though it’s there. It isn’t the same as a person, not even food or a blanket or something solid to hold on to but what it can do to us is so astounding to me.
And I think today I came to the conclusion that sometimes one of the best things art can do is make you forget yourself. Whether it’s a film about talking dogs or a Jane Austen novel or the sound of Winston Marshall playing the banjo, sometimes I find that something being incredible in whatever way it is and taking up all of my attention can even make me forget who I am or what I look like, to not have to be a person and have my thoughts completely wrapped up in art.
*
Excuses time: I’ve kind of had technical problems over the last month, but hopefully normal posting will resume. Since last time;
- I went to a really great concert with my friends and met Noah and the Whale!
- I went skiing with my family in the Three Valleys, which was really nice
- I read a lot of good books and went to Buffalo Grill
Hope all’s well your end.
Lizzie x
Music is just so, so good.
I don’t know if it’s that I forget or that I underestimate how it can make me feel, but every so often the way that listening to certain artists and bands can comfort me is just ridiculous. It’s maybe even wrong because it’s a form of comfort that isn’t quite real, even though it’s there. It isn’t the same as a person, not even food or a blanket or something solid to hold on to but what it can do to us is so astounding to me.
And I think today I came to the conclusion that sometimes one of the best things art can do is make you forget yourself. Whether it’s a film about talking dogs or a Jane Austen novel or the sound of Winston Marshall playing the banjo, sometimes I find that something being incredible in whatever way it is and taking up all of my attention can even make me forget who I am or what I look like, to not have to be a person and have my thoughts completely wrapped up in art.
*
Excuses time: I’ve kind of had technical problems over the last month, but hopefully normal posting will resume. Since last time;
- I went to a really great concert with my friends and met Noah and the Whale!
- I went skiing with my family in the Three Valleys, which was really nice
- I read a lot of good books and went to Buffalo Grill
Hope all’s well your end.
Lizzie x
Thursday, 15 March 2012
Recommendations: February and March
"THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER" - Stephen Chbosky
I'm definitely not the first to write about how brilliant this book is, and I'm coming rather late to the party but I can't go without mentioning it. Sometimes you read a book at just the right time: "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" just sums up all of the weird events that occur during the "growing up" period, and doing things for the first time. Also one of the smaller plots related to a situation I've found myself in, and Charlie reminds me of one of my friends to a ridiculous amount of detail. It was just really close to hope.
And I love that line: "We were infinite."
"POST OFFICE" - Charles Bukowski
It took me the first few chapters to get used to the narrator's voice in this novel, because Bukowski's writing style is so unusual, as well as him using a certain amount of what I guess was jargon, but all of that's a good thing and once I did this novel was really good and like nothing I've read before. I ended up liking Henry Chinaski in a twisted kind of way, despite how unkind and lazy and for want of a better word, pathetic he is - I think there's maybe a little bit of him in all of us. A great summation of the "white trash" culture, from a point of view I haven't come across much before.
WHITTARD'S TEA: DREAMTIME
I think I've expressed my love for ridiculously sweet instant tea drinks before. Apricot and honey flavour. Perfect if you have a cold. www.whittards.com. I believe they deliver.
PENGUINS
It was actually from a Laura Marling concert the other night that I learnt that here you can watch penguins at a zoo in California via live webcam. I don't really think I need to explain why this is amazing.
PETE ROE
If you hear from me anywhere else on the internet you probably know this, but I went to see Laura Marling last week... possibly three times. I'm broke but it was brilliant and worth it, and one of the guys who opened for her was Mr Pete Roe, who also plays piano and guitar in her band later on in the set. He's a really great guitarist, by the third night, I could sing along with several of his songs. I think this one below is my favourite of his.
I don't think he's released any music yet, but I'm sure it won't be long.
***
Sorry for forgetting Wednesday again. I won't make promises but we'll see what happens next week...
Aside from that, I hope all's well your end and I'll be back soon.
Lizzie x
I'm definitely not the first to write about how brilliant this book is, and I'm coming rather late to the party but I can't go without mentioning it. Sometimes you read a book at just the right time: "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" just sums up all of the weird events that occur during the "growing up" period, and doing things for the first time. Also one of the smaller plots related to a situation I've found myself in, and Charlie reminds me of one of my friends to a ridiculous amount of detail. It was just really close to hope.
And I love that line: "We were infinite."
"POST OFFICE" - Charles Bukowski
It took me the first few chapters to get used to the narrator's voice in this novel, because Bukowski's writing style is so unusual, as well as him using a certain amount of what I guess was jargon, but all of that's a good thing and once I did this novel was really good and like nothing I've read before. I ended up liking Henry Chinaski in a twisted kind of way, despite how unkind and lazy and for want of a better word, pathetic he is - I think there's maybe a little bit of him in all of us. A great summation of the "white trash" culture, from a point of view I haven't come across much before.
WHITTARD'S TEA: DREAMTIME
I think I've expressed my love for ridiculously sweet instant tea drinks before. Apricot and honey flavour. Perfect if you have a cold. www.whittards.com. I believe they deliver.
PENGUINS
It was actually from a Laura Marling concert the other night that I learnt that here you can watch penguins at a zoo in California via live webcam. I don't really think I need to explain why this is amazing.
PETE ROE
If you hear from me anywhere else on the internet you probably know this, but I went to see Laura Marling last week... possibly three times. I'm broke but it was brilliant and worth it, and one of the guys who opened for her was Mr Pete Roe, who also plays piano and guitar in her band later on in the set. He's a really great guitarist, by the third night, I could sing along with several of his songs. I think this one below is my favourite of his.
I don't think he's released any music yet, but I'm sure it won't be long.
***
Sorry for forgetting Wednesday again. I won't make promises but we'll see what happens next week...
Aside from that, I hope all's well your end and I'll be back soon.
Lizzie x
Monday, 5 March 2012
"Delicate"
Here is a song called "Delicate". It's by Damien Rice and I think it's beautiful.
The melody's nothing groundbreaking, it's simple and clean and warm, but I think the lyrics are so lovely.
"We might make out,
When nobody's there,
It's not that we're scared, it's just delicate."
I'm sorry for my lack of posting recently, I should be getting back into the regular habits from now on.
The truth is, I've been weird with blogging recently. I started deciding that I wanted to talk about my life and my "problems" less, and things that mattered more, like books and music I love, and I'm honestly not sure if that's for you or if it's for myself. Also tumblr has made me very lazy. But, as well as that, I've been "participating".
But in terms of life recently;
- I am learning to drive and awful at it.
- I read an amazing (and by now quite famous) book called "The Perks of Being a Wallflower".
- I'm not doing very well at dealing with stress from school.
- I'm going to see Laura Marling tomorrow!
In conclusion: sorry. I'll be here more often. You are nice.
Lizzie xxx
The melody's nothing groundbreaking, it's simple and clean and warm, but I think the lyrics are so lovely.
"We might make out,
When nobody's there,
It's not that we're scared, it's just delicate."
I'm sorry for my lack of posting recently, I should be getting back into the regular habits from now on.
The truth is, I've been weird with blogging recently. I started deciding that I wanted to talk about my life and my "problems" less, and things that mattered more, like books and music I love, and I'm honestly not sure if that's for you or if it's for myself. Also tumblr has made me very lazy. But, as well as that, I've been "participating".
But in terms of life recently;
- I am learning to drive and awful at it.
- I read an amazing (and by now quite famous) book called "The Perks of Being a Wallflower".
- I'm not doing very well at dealing with stress from school.
- I'm going to see Laura Marling tomorrow!
In conclusion: sorry. I'll be here more often. You are nice.
Lizzie xxx
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Why I Don't Really Care About Lana Del Rey's Lips
I keep hearing a lot of people's thoughts about Lana Del Rey, and to tell the truth, I've barely heard her music except for, of course, the two singles, "Video Games" and "Born To Die". Her popularity has manifested really quickly and I don't know how to feel about this, something I'm definitely not alone in.
Personally, I really like the above song and I think she has a beautiful voice, but still I don't understand all of the hype about her, and I also don't understand why we're so obsessed with talking about her looks. In Youtube videos of her singing, at least one in five of the comments below mention how much make-up she wears, her clothes and, of course, whether or not she’s had surgery on her lips, all of this being commented on as a bad thing.
I read an article a few days ago comparing her to Adele - both have very thick, strong voices with a wide vocal range, and make music that's played on TV and mainstream radio stations. But there's one significant difference between them: whilst Adele constantly states she wants the focus to be on her music and not her looks: she's very down-to-earth, she isn't stick thin, she doesn't wear revealing outfits, and this is all, of course, a great impression to give – music is, of course, only audial and in a perfect society our judgement of music and the people who make it should be down to sound only.
Lana Del Rey is different from Adele. Whilst her music is world away from mainstream pop, there are still her red lipstick and the heavy eyeliner, and the perfect, plump, are-they-or-aren’t-they-real lips – a complete contrast to her singing these deep and thoughtful song lyrics that we wouldn’t expect from someone who presents herself in this over-made-up way.
I don’t think anyone really knows how to feel about this, and maybe this is because of our essential need to categorize. There are a lot of celebrated women making pop music who are focused on their physical image – we never see Britney Spears without make-up, Madonna’s had cosmetic surgery and so much of Lady Gaga’s persona depends on her theatrical make-up and costumes, arguably more than her music itself. And these sorts of musicians aren’t regarded as serious musicians, but women who aren’t just singers or instrumentalists, but dancers and performers. Then we have the second category, where we count Adele, and other more alternative musicians that you can still find in the iTunes chart like Bon Iver, Laura Marling and to a certain extent Ed Sheeran, though I guess that’s another debate.
And the thing is, Lana Del Rey fits into both of those categories and maybe we find that confusing – normally we can say that pop music is backup dancers and outfits and BBC Radio 1, and that “real” music, that isn’t so much stereotypically about image.
But when I think about it, that’s completely questionable too. Because lots of musicians who are considered “authentic” have a persona that they put on, an iconic way that they dress – I’m thinking of Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, and more recently Florence Welch. All three have appearance’s that are a part of the way they present themselves on stage.
We say that we want to agree with Adele, that music is about what it sounds like and not what it looks like, that weight doesn’t matter. But if we really practise what we preach, surely it should swing both ways, and if someone chooses to present themselves in a way that perhaps isn’t so laid back and natural, that’s okay too.
Music is expression, and call Lana Del Rey “fake” as much as you want to but if she is, then so is everyone else. Because, really, whenever someone sings a song they’re somehow lying within its lyrics, or maybe “acting” is a better word. Musicians are presenting to us a version of themselves that suits their career. And this isn’t phoney or dishonest. It’s like a book or a film. It’s art, and like everything we read or hear or see, has been presented to us in a way that’s been edited and tweaked to meet, essentially, predictions of our own expectations and needs.
Personally, I really like the above song and I think she has a beautiful voice, but still I don't understand all of the hype about her, and I also don't understand why we're so obsessed with talking about her looks. In Youtube videos of her singing, at least one in five of the comments below mention how much make-up she wears, her clothes and, of course, whether or not she’s had surgery on her lips, all of this being commented on as a bad thing.
I read an article a few days ago comparing her to Adele - both have very thick, strong voices with a wide vocal range, and make music that's played on TV and mainstream radio stations. But there's one significant difference between them: whilst Adele constantly states she wants the focus to be on her music and not her looks: she's very down-to-earth, she isn't stick thin, she doesn't wear revealing outfits, and this is all, of course, a great impression to give – music is, of course, only audial and in a perfect society our judgement of music and the people who make it should be down to sound only.
Lana Del Rey is different from Adele. Whilst her music is world away from mainstream pop, there are still her red lipstick and the heavy eyeliner, and the perfect, plump, are-they-or-aren’t-they-real lips – a complete contrast to her singing these deep and thoughtful song lyrics that we wouldn’t expect from someone who presents herself in this over-made-up way.
I don’t think anyone really knows how to feel about this, and maybe this is because of our essential need to categorize. There are a lot of celebrated women making pop music who are focused on their physical image – we never see Britney Spears without make-up, Madonna’s had cosmetic surgery and so much of Lady Gaga’s persona depends on her theatrical make-up and costumes, arguably more than her music itself. And these sorts of musicians aren’t regarded as serious musicians, but women who aren’t just singers or instrumentalists, but dancers and performers. Then we have the second category, where we count Adele, and other more alternative musicians that you can still find in the iTunes chart like Bon Iver, Laura Marling and to a certain extent Ed Sheeran, though I guess that’s another debate.
And the thing is, Lana Del Rey fits into both of those categories and maybe we find that confusing – normally we can say that pop music is backup dancers and outfits and BBC Radio 1, and that “real” music, that isn’t so much stereotypically about image.
But when I think about it, that’s completely questionable too. Because lots of musicians who are considered “authentic” have a persona that they put on, an iconic way that they dress – I’m thinking of Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, and more recently Florence Welch. All three have appearance’s that are a part of the way they present themselves on stage.
We say that we want to agree with Adele, that music is about what it sounds like and not what it looks like, that weight doesn’t matter. But if we really practise what we preach, surely it should swing both ways, and if someone chooses to present themselves in a way that perhaps isn’t so laid back and natural, that’s okay too.
Music is expression, and call Lana Del Rey “fake” as much as you want to but if she is, then so is everyone else. Because, really, whenever someone sings a song they’re somehow lying within its lyrics, or maybe “acting” is a better word. Musicians are presenting to us a version of themselves that suits their career. And this isn’t phoney or dishonest. It’s like a book or a film. It’s art, and like everything we read or hear or see, has been presented to us in a way that’s been edited and tweaked to meet, essentially, predictions of our own expectations and needs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)