07.02.2008. the whitest boy alive. electric ballroom, camden, london.

The Whitest Boy Alive

These boys have got it all. The groove, the melodies, the instantaneous desire to just start flicking your hip, you feel the people shout around you and you look at their faces. Her face, the smiles, the hands in the air, the high fiving with a brilliant enthusiastic group of Spaniards off their heads on mdma. the sheer, unbridled joy of the occasion. and suprisingly cool t-shirts (even if I did have to buy a large girls… oh dear… the skininess…)… listen to the video…

‘can you keep a secret?’

the Whitest Boy Alive are the bees knees.

They play at Koko in May on the 21st. [CLICKY THING]

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Watched a programme…

August 21, 2007

The Oldest Person In The World. CHANNEL FOUR.

I taped a bit of a programme last night by accident after leaving the timer on from a film the night before. The TV rolled and a documentary played as they, the oldest people in the world (from 101 to 113 years old, to the longest living person in the world, 114-year-old Emma). Was living too long a burden? What was their secret to living so long? Could they even hear the question?

There was a moment in the programme when one lady, Charlotte, told of how she didn’t like being over a century of age, I think she was 110. But she didn’t say hardly anything. Her body, her face, the tear in her eye said it all. The voiceover relayed how she had outlived her children. Was she shappy? Evidently not. As they moved her to a new abode (her care home was shutting down) she changed an earlier answer to a question; her perfect age to live to was no longer 100, it was now 90 years old.

J.

Gumtree is so weird.

August 14, 2007

logo_small_gumtree.gifRead this sentence:

“I’m a guy and get turned on by the thought of flashing to women in public. Do any women get turned on by being flashed at? I have not ever done this as i am a law abiding citizen and champion of the people”

Now, ignoring that this is perculiar. What kind of man says they like flashing, then claims to be “a law abiding citizen” and – even better in my view – “champion of the people“. Is this a joke?

Now click here…   http://www.gumtree.com/london/19/12292019.html

It’s real! It’s an actual post! I mean, WTF?!?!

Do you think anyone’s emailed him? Maybe you should.

See, Gumtree is full of wonderful and magical delights.

Such as the flash man.

Or maybe it’s just full of sexual degenerates.
J.

my dear Glastonbury,

June 30, 2007

glastonbury mud
Oh, how I love you so. How I wait your call to arms, I delight in the knowledge that you’re around the corner, treating me to your music and madness and your temporary insanity.

You are certainly a challenge, but you make it worth every bit of effort I can summon from my skinbag of bones and blood. You eat people up, you consume them and spit you out. You put us out to the elements,  to withstand anything and everything the weather can chuck at us.

You should be painful, but you’re not.

Except for a little bit where  the dried mud pulled out my leg hair, leaving spotted bald patches on my legs. And the aching, and odd bowell movements from the Mexican place. Despite that, you’re (relatively) painless.

Anything can happen at Glastonbury. You could end up covered head to toe in mud, showering for the third time to get the remnants of the mud out of your nails. But you’ll always be fine.

You could end up lost in a fiery field in the dark, drenched with rain, no phone battery and no mates in sight. But you’ll always be fine. You could slip and crunch your ankle, falling to lay spread eagled in the  rain, mud and litter and piss. You could eat fatty, greasy food irregularly to fill your stomach with stodge and carbohydrates. By Sunday, you could almost pass for a wino with your beard and cheap wine bar booze*. But you’ll always be fine.

You could end up hitting on strangers, drinking wine (I quote, Morrison’s ‘GOOD SICILLIAN WINE’ in a box) from a plastic bottle, dancing to ‘Come Up and See Me’ next to a burger van in 12 inches of mud. You could end up using the same line each night: “Could you teach me how to dance in wellies?”**

You could get trashed on the last night and then be a little taken back when a scary 50ft clown comes up on the big screen at the Chemical Brothers mouthing “Do it again.”

But dear Glastonbury; as you consume us for the weekend, pulling your pilgrims collectively into your belly-town of fabric houses, marquees and mud, you give us something back. Spirit rises in your people; the rain may be cold and muddy, it may stick to me and become an effort to walk but it will not stop me having a good time. You are a challenge, and each person may approach you differently.

See, you could watch the Magic Numbers in the rain, in more rain, then briefly in a little bit of sun, and feel the smile come across your face when the lead singer looks out across thousands of people in front of the Pyramid stage and says humbly into the microphone, “Thanks for making my dream come true”.

You could see Fatboy Slim, in a dress, stripping to ‘Hot in Herre’ facing 500 welly-wearers, dancing monged in a medium marquee glamourously called a ‘Ballroom’.

You could end up sitting in a tipi, watching the cock dance of a half-naked mate and an old kaftan-clad hippy as they shuffle in their seat, smoke and unconciously (or subconsciously?) flash their willies at you.

You could laugh yourself into stitches when a mate tells you he was pissing hungover into a bottle in his sleeping bag and had too much for the vessel, hence overfloweth.***

You could aim to fulfil an ambition, to see a band that you’ve always wanted to see. But you also know that your stage of debauchery, not you, will define whether you’d get to see them (did: Manic Street Preachers, didn’t: Arcade Fire).

You could wake up in the morning, feeling horrible and form the logic that you can get wasted in order to feel better. And you always, most definitely do.

It’s the opposite to reality there. You communicate and (gasp) people are nice and friendly, they share their resources. They don’t look down at the ground, they look up and smile happy. Glastonbury is the opposite of the Tube.

Two guys even invited us to an ex-wife’s marital blessing at 6pm in the Lost Vagueness chapel. It could have been a lovely story – but unfortunately, you get drunk and forgot. It’s always, always, always the 7% pear cider.

You teach us one thing Glastonbury, reality just isn’t the same. People can’t wander around, getting wasted, watching music, doing what they like legitimately in the real world. The beautiful temporary meetings. Shame on them. But you adjust, you realise that real life isn’t so bad, it does have its good points – family, friends, toilets that don’t make you want to vomit, etc.

But I’ve been there before and I’ll be there again. I love Glastonbury. And I think it loves me too.

J.


*, **, *** (sorry)

glastonbury buzz.

June 19, 2007

Glasto

To everyone in the world who is going Glastonbury

…see you there!

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ! Ludicrously over excited!

I am now on holiday for a bit…

J.

(picture impolitely nicked from my lovely friend, SoftLad).

Carlos DIT seems Carlos D from Interpol is not just happy being in a phenomenal band; he also sees himself as a film composer!

After stumbling across this news item from Pitchfork (complete with nice picture of him and his dog – how cute is that?! – from the website), I’ve found that his aspirations are great – he wants to make magical music for those movies!

His website, as Pitchfork says, is bizzare. What it seems he’s done is compose some scores, then add them onto movies/TV already made. I wanted to embed these, but you’ll have to view them on his website…

http://www.carlosdengler.com

 

Planet of the Apes is even in there! Most of it is nicely ambient.

What I haven’t watched yet but will as soon as I can is the short film online. Not the promo video, this is a short film he scored called Golgotha. I’ll see it over the weekend hopefully.

It’s interesting finding out his kit though (his bio is brilliant), and seeing what he does when he’s not posing, smoking into a microphone and rocking a bass guitar via a holster.

What a guy.

J.

This is quite possibly my favourite song ever…

J.

celebrity skin.

February 26, 2007

goody.jpgI don’t wanna get on my high horse about celebrity and all that but this is just so transparent. So I am. Now Jade Goody, the prat off Big Brother, is in India. “A private visit.” If it’s so private, why are the paparazzi following you around everywhere? They couldn’t have been tipped off by your agent could they? You could go on a private visit, get a private plane, go into a hotel and tour the place. Don’t make a public entrance and tell everyone where you’re gonna eat a curry.  This is a woman who got £250 K or something like that (unaccurate stat) siphoned off her bank account before she even realised. She could fucking afford a private visit if she wanted.

This is a violent, aggressive, bully who was meant to represent an anti-bullying charity?

This is a lass who was accused of being racist, was stage-managed to an easy exit, got an easy ride in an interview that hardly even broached the subject, came out, went into ‘rehab’. Why did she get an easy interview? Who cares if her and Davina McCall have the same agent? This incest-esque relationship shouldn’t affect the programme. And now this new stuff about going to India. It’s everywhere, it was on the news.

Why do people eat this shit?

The celebrity skin is the persona, I suppose.

J.

Scroll down and press play on the video. It’s just the song with one still image, listen & read.

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Nick Drake’s Place to Be is one of the most compelling and longing songs I’ve ever heard. One of my favs.

place to be. Nick Drake.

when I was younger, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
and now I’m older see it face to face
and now I’m older gotta get up clean the place.
and I was green, greener than the hill
where the flowers grew and the sun shone still
now I’m darker than the deepest sea
just hand me down, give me a place to be.
and I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I’d see when day is done
now I’m weaker than the palest blue
oh, so weak in this need for you.

Immense. Three chords and the mood of longing, melancholy suits the expressions of the words and Drake’s fragile voice perfectly. Admittedly, the romanticism associated with the now-deceased musician helps, but you just believe it’s true. It sounds like it’s his words, like he means it and this is him. It has soul.

It’s a popular thought that he speaks of his head at the start of the song. Drake goes from childhood innocence to adult knowing very quickly. In each verse; the first lines conveying innocence and exuberance (‘younger than before’/‘greener’/‘strong’) to darkness and knowledge (‘older’/‘darker’/‘weaker’). The juxtaposition of idealistic nature, then the ‘deepest’ and ‘weakest’ blues illustrate how far he has come from his youth. Each verse, Drake doubts his youth and sees the dark, he realizes ‘the truth hanging from the door’ and realizes the pain before him.

It’s the ‘place’, unknown and unclarified, that stays with. The longing for a place to be. The desire. To rest, be grounded and content.

The beauty of this song arcs higher with the proclamation that he’s ‘so weak in this need for you’. It is undefined, layering it with connotations. Is it a person? Death? Sanity?

You will never know; the song’s ubiquitous in its longing and desire for the ‘place’. Just hope he has it now.

ADDITIONAL: For gee-tar aficionados… go to here … where Robin Frederick talks about Drake’s unique take on finger work and song construction.

Listen and enjoy – x, J.

place to be

supporting scatman john.

February 15, 2007

Right, so I was reading Prefix, and then I saw this post… Awful Album of the Week: Scatman John ‘Scatman’s World’

I think it’s harsh. Yes, his album may have been made up of early-’90s-pseudo-trance disco-pop-rubbish but I don’t like the way they talk about the chieftain. They talk about him like he’s some kind of paedophile pop star. It’s so lazy.

The dude was an old jazz musician, with a stutter that embarassed him. He turned that around and with the help of some A&R music executives (you’re picturing them as evil henchmen now, aren’t you) reinvented himself as a perculiar popstar.

He deserves plaudits. Firstly (and maybe this should be an ongoing feature), who else has a better moustache in pop music. Second, watch his videos, the guy is so bizzare it’s amazing. His movements are mental.

If I’m honest, the thing that offends me more than anything is the bloke playing the trumpet in the Scatman video, when it’s clearly a synth. Oh, and the worst drum miming I’ve seen.

Praise the Scatman – give him a break. Actually he died in 1999, which is a shame because I was thinking it’d be great to get an interview with him now looking back. I wouldn’t get one, but it’s a nice idea. Shame.

The bloke was a hippie for the early 90s techno age; a prophet if you will…

“Everybody’s talkin’ something very shockin’ just to
Keep on blockin’ what they’re feelin’ inside
But listen to me brother, you just keep on walkin’ ’cause
You and me and sister ain’t got nothin’ to hide.
Scatman, fat man, black and white and brown man
Tell me ’bout the colour of your soul.
If part of your solution isn’t ending the pollution
Then I don’t want to hear your stories told.
I want to welcome you to Scatman’s world…”

Do you want to watch him now? Below…

RIP Scatman.

J.

Scatman’s World

it’s never a good idea…

February 11, 2007

An egg, not the one I used but an egg, nonetheless…to participate in a boiled egg challenge unprepared. You have to have some form of drink to help you out, preferably not gin n’ tonic.

…to be lured into snorting whisky. My nose has been weird all day. Bit crusty and that. I think it was a trick, as soon as I mentioned that I’d snorted vodka before, she immediately said whisky was a real challenge. She was right.

y, J.

paul draper.

February 10, 2007

I like Paul Draper, visit him. He was Mansun, along with Chad, Andie and Stove. They made some very important music, to me at least. I recommend them to anyone, I love them. Six is one the most amazing things I have ever heard. He is recording solo now and has posted a dance song he collaborated on. He also wrote for Skin (ex-Skunk Anansie) when she released some solo music.

Anywho, Paul and co. were very important to me and I can’t wait to see some intimate shows (hopefully) once he’s done. Just bear him in mind, he may just give you some amazing music. Again.

J.

Click banner to visit Paul Draper's MySpace page

policing the Internet?

February 7, 2007

I posted this on my work blog yesterday but it’s not open to general IPs yet… so I’m thieving it to my blog…

Yesterday, three paedophiles were sentenced Southwark Crown Court for planning to rape two teenage girls and more than 50 other related charges between them. Then planned their crimes over the Internet. The three, who met via a website chatroom and never met in person, even intended to do a “Holly and Jess” – a reference to infamous Soham murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. The case is only the second set of prosecutions regarding the use of the Internet to conspire to rape.

It’s a story that’s been covered by the media a lot today so I don’t feel we need to relay all the details of the court case – the story can be read via the following links…

Times Online story Guardian Unlimited story Channel4.com story

However, it does bring up some interesting issues about the Internet and responsibility of those companies that host websites. An investigation into the website at the centre of the plot (which shall remain nameless due to its content) by Channel Four News yesterday found that the host was shared by huge multinational organisations and their different factions, including Disney and Fox.

As was relayed by an expert (who’s name escapes me, apologies) to Jon Snow in last night’s broadcast, he stated that due to an EU directive and legislation in this country, hosters cannot be held legally responsible for the content of their websites unless they have looked at them. It is the same in the US. Whilst legislation holds a host responsible, it only kicks in if they have seen the content. Understandably hosters avoid doing this as it leaves them open to legal action.

Is this really the way to police the Internet? Surely companies will continue to use this procedure and ‘unacceptable’ sites will never be subject to moderation?

But should the Internet even be policed at all? In theory, the Internet is a horizontal model of communication, unique to other media, as a user can communicate direct without the need of a ‘middleman’ or additional layers of communication. This is what defines the essence of the Internet. Would policing the Internet represent an infringement on freedom of speech? Is the Internet even a representation of freedom of speech? After all, there are still millions all over the world people who are yet to go online for the first time.

Without going into too much of my degree, the Internet can be argued to represent ‘the public sphere‘ – a concept that Jurgen Habermas, a German philosopher, tried to convey to the world. His idea – of a ‘place’ where public opinion is formed by the interaction of all society – can be discussed with a view to the Internet, surely unimaginable when he conceived his thesis.

This simple sentencing of the three offenders opens up a world of debate surrounding the Internet and how it can be managed – but who should decide how, what and of whom?

Would it be true to say that without testing boundaries, you’ll never find out what they are. Is it through public interaction that opinion is formed? How much should we restrict from general consumption? The things that we have already decided are wrong? And who decides what’s ‘moral’ in a society and what is not?

Either way, should the host of a website be forced to look at their customer’s content? After all, the responsibility must lie somewhere. I would lean towards a need for clarification- at least instead of keeping a legal loophole for companies to jump through…
J.

graffiti.

January 31, 2007

Taken at an environmental rally, 2006. ‘Hate breeds hate’.

hatebreedshate.jpg

J.

who is Pop Levi?

January 28, 2007

 

who is pop levi?

the man has style

So last week, at the recommendation of my friend Neilus, I popped out to the WaterRats in Kings Cross to catch a gig. The show was Pop Levi, £7.

It was a while before he came on and two other bands, one with a beautiful lead singer, were on before. Then the lights dimmed, a red light washed upon the stage and Pop Levi, with his goatee and Liverpudlian mophead haircut, strutted onstage.

Now I say strutted, this guy has some style. He pulls some great air guitar faces and switches smoothly from low growl to falsetto trill easily. His music sounds like glam rock updated for this generation, little bit of Merseybeat swing to the rhythms. I was impressed, I liked the guy. Two singles, Blue Honey and the latest one, Sugar Assualt Me, they’re perfect sounding. Sugar Assault Me sounds like a nicely rounded gem of glam poppy rock that scratched into your head.

What happened when we got outside was cool too. Everyone needed to catch the tube home; all things to do tomorrow. I wouldn’t have minded staying; I was in a dancing mood but alas, away we went. So we strolled outside and who was standing outside? The Pop. So we introduced ourselves. His Merseyside onstage twang has faded slightly, his voice all sung out.
‘So what did you think?’
‘Well, I hadn’t heard a note until tonight, but I’ll definitely be downloading it when I get home’
Kind of a shit joke really.
Anyway, he laughed: ‘Cool’.

We said hello, Mikael talked about Ladytron (he was bassist before) with him, and Decanus took a beautiful picture. He looks bit weird though in it, but I like that. That’s Neilus in the centre, me on the right. If you meet someone whose music you like, it always helps if they’re not a wanker. caught the train home and the first thing I did was download some of his tunes. Of course, with Pop Levi’s blessing now, added into the equation.

Some artists, and I suppose I’m thinking of Bolan and Bowie here, I’ve always liked. You can’t quite put your finger on the appeal exactly, but it seems like they are stars. Sing brilliant songs. Pop Levi? The man has style, that’s a good start. I mean, look at his videos…

I’ll be buying his record tomorrow.

x, J.

Sugar Assualt Me

Blue Honey

fitness needed. urgently.

January 18, 2007

Well. I said I would maybe not write about it again, but I feel obliged.

Dynamo Chicken Kiev suffered an honourable 4-1 defeat on Tuesday, in the Thurrock Premier 6-a-side league. We lost to the Thurrock Falcons who pretty much dominated us all game.

We’re now hovering dangerously above the relegation zone in tenth which, let’s be fair, is pretty crap. But I’m not really demoralised – they were just miles fitter than us. And my mate Decanus took over a team mid-season, that had already lost a whole bunch of games. They didn’t half whinge though, arguing every decision, it was like watching Chavski play or something.

We did score one lovely goal but if it hadn’t been for one left-footed bloke (with the least accurate shooting I’ve ever seen) hogging the ball from his team-mates they probably would’ve won by a lot more. Half the time I was reduced to just looking up to the heavens as another pass was misplaced. Oh well.

Myself though, I think I did pretty good. It was a huge pitch and I did some hardcore sprinting and runnning – especially in the first half. My passing was ok, I didn’t bottle a tackle but I did again realise just how crap a sprinter I am.

I lasted about 20-odd minutes before I let the sub take my place though. Had a beer on the touchline for the last five mins or so – I couldn’t be bothered to go back on.

I was expecting pain over the next couple of days too. I felt fine yesterday but am now starting to feel the pull on the muscles.  Think that’s ’cause I did a load of walking going over Tottenham yesterday. Maybe it’s time to get fit…

…or not. I’m not a particularly driven person sport-wise. We’ll see.

J

my mate decanus…

January 16, 2007

my mate decanus…is very excited about the football today. After a lengthy abscene from the game, I – accompanied by my good friend the Doctor – will be making my debut for his team.

Dynamo Chicken Kiev (I’m 70% sure that’s the name but I can’t remember exactly), I think they’re called are currently mid-table in the local six-a-side league after taking over another team’s position in the league mid-season.

Decanus, my friend, is this man on the right –>>>>>>>

Doesn’t he look threatening? He’s harmless, but this is what he looks like when he plays football.
Or so I hope.

But for me, the football will be hard and I hope for Decanus’ sake, it isn’t too hard.
See my friend, the Doctor, is a sporty energetic man. If I remember correctly, my old friend is a shouting, aggressive bloke when playing. I, I’m afraid to say, am none such thing. Well, maybe shouty. Decanus too is a sporty man – he gyms, he will run a marathon this year. Even the team’s ‘biggest’ player is probably far more athletic than I. But nonetheless, I shall rise above it and once again, become a footballer.
For thirteen minutes each half.
I shall ache, I shall get cramp, and I’ll probably cough up my lungs but yes, I shall be, a footballer again.

I’ve heard the Doctor has been boning up on research, reading an edition of FourFourTwo that has Arsene Wenger’s guide to five-a-sides in it. Nice. Decanus will probably wake up tomorrow, limber up and prepare his mind throughout the day. I shall have a beer on the train home and see what happens. He emailed over the teamsheet this morning, all nicely laid out on half a green football pitch the size of A5 paper when printed, letting us know the starting six. (It’s pasted below).

I’m adopting the no running, playmaker role in midfield – I like to think of it as the fountain, distributing passes, spraying the ball around. Like Tommy, Tommy Huddlestone – the future of English football (except the Newcastle game at the weekend… shame).

I’m afraid I’ll be a bit more the stone, not moving and looking lifeless.

But it’s nice while it lasted. At least for these few seconds here, I’m mentally a footballer. But I’ll try my hardest goddammit, I’ll fight for Dynamo Chicken Kiev and kiss it’s buttery badge of herbs and chicken and oozing watery stuff from inside its beautiful breadcrummy exterior.chickenkiev.jpg

And if, perchance, we win the game and I notch a couple of goals, then I’ll walk home happy with myself and with a spring in my step, faith restored in life. And I’ll walk into that pub. I’ll breathe in it’s smoky air. I’ll neck that pint and… fuck it… I’ll buy a 99p frozen Chicken Kiev from the Turkish corner shop on the way home.

Then again, if it goes badly, I don’t expect I’ll write about this again.

J.

Tuesday’s line up

clean slate.

January 9, 2007

pinboard.

What is it about this time of year?

First you get the newspapers regaling you in advance about just how miserable everyone will be for the next month or so. Then they tell you half the people are fine as none of them are at blooming work anyway – at least not until January 8 apparently. They can’t even make up their minds, and I think that’s a problem for a lot of people now.

It’s all this end of year stuff too. It’s just a time that people (at least those who don’t fret about their direction or definition every single day of their so far meaningless lives) take stock, all because that little number at the end of the date clicks over, we reset back to the all powerful 01 of 01, and it suddenly seems to make people go crazy for a few weeks. New start and all that.

Like New Years Resolutions, I just find it a bit bizarre y’know? Why not change during the year? Why not change make these changes on a Thursday in November. Is it just this period of assessment that makes us do this? Or just the symbolism of that last digit clicking over?

It’s more likely to happen and be something stuck to if it happened at some point during the year, without everyone repeatedly asking how’s it going. Maybe sub-consciously, the person knows that most resolutions fail and that’s part of it all. Or maybe they’re just determined, I don’t know, I just suppose I don’t think everyone (or anyone?) is actually going to keep it up.

So what about me, did I make one? I tried to think of one (fucking hypocrite). I got a text at 2am on the (all powerful) 01 of 01 from a friend saying ‘here’s mine, what’s yours?’. So I thought and typed out ‘I’m going to be productive‘. Next morning though, when I was deleting old messages on the phone I saw that in my drunken state I’d actually typed ‘I’m going un be productive‘. Now, while that may not be grammatically accurate, I think it’s the kiss of death to that thought process already.

Incidentally, the friend wanted to not swear so much this year. I suppose that’s pretty easy really. I’m disproved immediately. I suppose the only conclusion I can come to, is pick something that doesn’t cost money at least. Or just go to the fucking gym and use the membership and don’t lose all the money you accumulate from working a job. (Warning: sweeping generalisation alert…) Especially when quite a lot of you hate your jobs anyway and wouldn’t be there if you didn’t need the cash.

One day, maybe I’ll be able to say: “This year, my resoulution is to be a man of leisure’. That’d be nice.

x, J.

I’ve created my own Christmas card for this year, with the help of my sister. I’m not allowed to show you hers. But mine, which does have a element of sarcastic comedy in it (I hope that’s clear) is here…

My Crimbo card

I really enjoyed this man’s post off of his blog too…

Night, night.

J.

joy

This is my current favourite picture. I just love the sheer, unbridled joy and innocence of this picture. I took it a few weeks ago (on my mobile phone!) at the iCount rally about global warming that took place in Trafalgar Square, London. Over 30,000 people attended that day and afterwards, people who had been dressed in fancy dress costume even stood around in the cold, entertaining little ones – like this young girl. When she saw the panda, it had its back to her and she tapped it on the back. When it turned around to give her a big hug, her smile was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

There’s a new poem on the pinboard here (it was written when very, very drunk).

oh, and i have a flikr account with some pictures here.

J.

When I started writing this blog, I said to myself that I wouldn’t have a limit on the types of thing I wanted to post. Primarily, I wanted it to be for my writings and pictures, but I suppose I wanted it to be whatever was there at the time. So what’s on my mind today?

Josie Grove.josie grove

All over the media today, Josie is a 16-year-old girl from Northumberland who was diagnosed two years ago with a rare form of leukaemia. After two years of needles and therapy, which has unfortunately failed to impact on her cancer, she has decided to reject any further treatment and has chosen to live her life as full as she can for the next few months she has left.
In a weird way, I feel like I almost want to meet the young lady. No, not in a weird creepy way, but I almost want to meet her, see how she is really is and congratulate her on her attitude. In the sick way the mind works, I’ve thought about this and always hoped that I’d have the balls to do what’s right for me in that situation – especially if it was to continue receiving treatment and be weak and ill for the slightest chance, or to live life as fully as I could for the time I had left. She has more balls than me, especially right now.
Today she will receive a bravery award after being nominated by her nurses at the hospital she stayed at before. She obviously makes an impression on everyone she meets and spends time with. If you can’t be impacted by a brave woman in this situation, then you’ve completely lost touch with reality. More than anything, it just makes you think how much of your time you’re wasting.
I found it very interesting the way the story was covered. Arguably the most emotive way was the BBC news last night, when you could see her father welling up as he told how proud he was of her and her decisions. However, I did not like the Times headline of ‘Take me home to die, says cancer girl’. I’d rather they’d tried to identify her as something else other than ‘cancer girl’. It’s too cold, factual and has no grasp of the emotion or situation- which really, let’s face it is the point of covering the story. I find it a bit condescending, in the way it sounds.

She’s definitely a very mature woman, who realises that certain thing’s are there to be accepted and the only thing you can do is make the best of a bad situation. She could be on a street corner, smashing up things and acquiring ASBOs. She’s an absolute credit to herself and her family.

Just hope she has the best time she can and that life is an adventure from now on for her. Stay beautiful.

BBC video news report.