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The Mission to Leeds
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10 Views
10/16/11
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I am making a pilgrimage to Leeds soon to see the reformed Mission ( well 3/4 reformed, no Mick Brown who according to Wayne at the Bristol gig hasn't played drums in 15 years. ) I also made a similar trip to Bristol to see them earlier in the week. It was like they had never been away.
Is anyone from the site going to the gig in Leeds and fancies a drink beforehand? If not can any Leeds-goths recommend a goth friendly pub where I might meet like minded souls? I wandered for ages in Bristol before finding the faithful in a pub near the venue, a fate I would rather avoid in Leeds if I can.
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The romance of romance
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19 Views
03/09/11
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Do you ever consider the romance of romance? The myriad ways in which love can begin, can grow, flourish and yes, sadly, die? Now, have you ever considered that one way of falling in love might be inherently superior to another? Think about it for a moment, think of all the couples you know and the stories they tell of how they met and fell in love. Are some of those stories more satisfying than others? Do they seem to indicate a destiny written in the stars? Is the story of a couple whose eyes meet across a room and who share a moment, but who fail to meet, who overcome happenstance and circumstance, trials and tribulations only to be reunited and to fall into one another’s arms a better, truer, stronger love than a couple who meet on... let’s say... a dating site?
Well since you are reading this on a dating site I am going to presuppose that you don’t share the disdain that some do for such things but please allow me to elaborate. Many years ago when I was in a long term and loving relationship I was at an engagement party and got chatting to a friend I hadn’t seen since school. He introduced me to his blushing bride to be ( although just to complicate matters it wasn’t his engagement party ) and we fell to chatting. By and by I asked my friend how he had come to meet his fiancée. Initially he was circumspect, talking in the broadest terms and in hints and suggestions. Finally after listening to the two of them evade my simple question for what seemed like aeons I pressed the matter. My friend said “You promise you won’t take the mickey?” to which I reasonably replied “Why of course not, when do I ever take the mickey?” ( Will those of you who know me kindly refrain from sniggering at this point. Thank you. ) He then admitted, blushing and embarrassed, that they had met on a dating site. Unabashed I asked why he had thought that I would have mocked him for this. “Well it isn’t very romantic, is it?” he responded. In truth the story of how my partner at that time and I had met and fallen in love was full of all the elements I mentioned above. It was the kind of courtship to which epic poems are written. However in the end the romance of our romance wasn’t so great that she didn’t cheat on me. My friend and his now wife are still together, still in love and still hopelessly devoted to one another. Bastards! ( I jest, my friend has had a terrifically hard life and I am humbled by his strength of character and tenacity. ) So who has the better story to tell now?
The truth is that from an early age we are indoctrinated into believing in the romance of romance. The Hollywood version of how we should meet and fall in love with our ‘soulmate.’ You know what? It’s all bullshit! Really. In truth there is nothing inherently more romantic about meeting someone at your place of work, at a club, the queue for a cinema even than meeting them on a dating site. Endlessly mooning after the girl in the record store, the guy who serves you coffee, the office temp, is no more beautiful a meeting than catching your breath when you read a profile that just makes you think “This one, this one is something special...” on GM.
It's nice to have a sweet story of how you and your sweetheart met. That's all it is though a story. It becomes embellished and embroidered by time and by our love of the romance of romance. In the end it doesn't matter how you meet the one you love. It only matters that you do.
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The beauty of nightmares
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44 Views
12/25/10
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I am pretty bleary eyed as I write this, it is Christmas morning and I *may* have had one or two ales last night which may explain why I forgot to turn my alarm off before going to sleep. So after I was rudely awakened at 4am on one of the rare days when I don't have to work I turned the alarm off, turned over and went back to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream...
And oddly I did dream. I rarely remember my dreams, if I dream at all, anymore. When I was in my early twenties I had the most exquisite nightmares, I used to wake with a start, often with a strangled scream escaping my throat! I don't know what caused those dreams nor why they stopped as suddenly as they started but I know I sort of missed them when they were gone. They were so vivid I can remember one of them clearly to this day.
Last night I dreamt of a zombie apocalypse ( they're all the rage these days you know... ) Structured like a videogame my ability and willingness to use a variety of deadly weaponry escalated in direct propportion to the size, agility, rage and viciousness of the undead horde I faced. There was also an element of parkour as I leapt from building to building to escape the horde hungry for my flesh! ( Chance would be a fine thing... )
It reminded me of an incident that happened with my last girlfriend that I had all but forgotten. Or more accurately never remembered in the first place. It involves a brief conversation the two of us shared one night when we were on holiday together. I woke from a nightmare, screaming as usual, in the middle of the night. She was somewhat taken aback by this as she hadn't been witness to it before. She asked me what was wrong and somewhere between sleep and consciousness I answered "The zombies. The zombies bit you. You have less than 24 hours before you turn." She comforted me and told me it would all be alright. As she tells it I pulled her into my arms and cradled her as gently as any mother has cradled a child, she told me that she felt safe from all harm in those moments before I kissed her on the head and added "I know it'll be alright sweetheart, but I will have to kill you in the morning."
She swears that it is true, every word, although I don't remember a single thing about it.
In the end our break up probably would have been less messy if I had taken an axe to her the following morning... But that's another story!
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