It’s late I should be sleeping
Instead I’m painfully awake.
My conscience quickly leaping
As my earth begins to quake
Too tired to form a complete thought
My brain procrastinates
Distracted from the task at hand
its quality dips
Formless thoughts become
Echos of those from my own
Darkness inside during day
I fight because sleep is just
The start of the same
And a dream is a lie.
Pain pain go away,
come again another day
I’ll take a day when I am old
When all my skin begins to mold
When my eyes begin to drop
And when my heart will start to stop
I’ll cushion my own quick demise
With happy thoughts and simple lies
I wish for it to be so quick
The final moments, final ticks
And as my clock begins to stop
My pressure finally starts to drop.
I’ll think of things that I have done
I’m out of breath, i’ve had my run
I’ll take the pain from looking back
The bruises from the beaten track
Mistakes I’ve made stayed with my mind
So maybe then the peace I’ll find
I’ll go to sleep, I’ll close my eyes
I’ll think about the hows and whys
I wasn’t perfect, did things wrong
Life is short but livings long
So much time to sit and ponder
What if I had listened longer
Would I do it all the same
Could I have a different brain
I’m sleeping now my time is over
I’m worn down like cliffs of Dover.
I’m sitting in the dentist waiting room and right in front of me is a bowl of apples.
Do dentists hate doctors so much they’re willing to believe they can harness the power of apples to keep them away. Or is it that apples have an acid content that will help speed up the erosion of your teeth and therefore increase the amount of visits people have to take to the dentist and in doing so, keep the dentist’s busy and making lots of money. I mean fuck me, dentists are so expensive aren’t they. I am here because I have a cavity – my first cavity! – and it’s starting to make the consumption of coffee a painful experience. Which in turn translates into my mornings starting with anger at alarm sounds, followed by the dicotamy of sleepiness all day or pain while I devour my caffeine. No one’s day should start with anger followed by pain. How are you meant to come back from that. It’s like if your alarm clock was just one giant fist patiently waiting above you while you sleep only to abruptly wake you up by delivering a well timed hook to the face at 8am. And then you’re expected to just go about your day as if that didn’t happen, smiling at strangers and not slapping the phone out of ever person you see attempting to multitask via texting and walking when they can clearly barely handle walking and breathing.
Anyway, I digress. I had half the workings of a root canal and crown performed upon my unimpressed face today so I’m currently sitting back at home with one of the strangest feelings I’ve ever had. If I ever wanted to get into a fight with a stranger I’d probably go and have some dental work done before hand to give myself the advantage of feeling absolutely nothing in my jaw. My upper lip feels like it’s divided into two sections. And when I smile I look like I’m mid stroke. But I’ll be completely honestly here, I am absolutely loving this feeling. It’s great. This has given me at least an hour’s worth of entertainment just sitting here like someone locked in an insane asylum. I’m just poking my own face and pulling weird expressions to see which gives the oddest response. So far I’m going with the “puff up my cheeks like a hamster” expression as the winner. I can’t do it so everytime I try one side expands while the other, the numb side, can’t seem to manage it so I just end up making a fake fart noise which I am immature enough to find hilarious.
I have to go back next week (my appointment is at 2:30 because I’m that dedicated to making my life a joke. 2:30. Tooth hurty. Yes, I did specifically ask for that time. I have absolutely no reason for it to be then other than my own breif amusement but that seems like reason enough in my opinion) and they are going to give me a crown. I believe I had a root canal today but I’m not sure. Its hard to pay attention when someone is about to use a tiny drill inside you. Plus I’d never seen an x-ray of my mouth before so I can kind of captivated by that.
Whats my point. I don’t know. I think my point was dentists are great fun. Don’t be scared of them. Life is scary enough. But do be scared of the ridiculous prices dentists charge.
My wonky smile is only temporary.
Do this. Do that. Do something.
And then do it for a while.
Never stop, get a trade and work,
And try to fucking smile.
Now please count yourself lucky
But not lucky enough to count.
Every penny that you earn
Is not a big enough amount.
For you to shuffle off this shit hole
Unless a forceable adieu
So we work until we’re old
Bitter, brittle and we’re through.
It takes courage and conviction
We’re our own land lords.
In control of our eviction
As we’re swallowing the swords
Double edged with misery
Both sides seeming like a loss
Our work load filled with agony
Yes we’re a wanker of a boss.
But we can’t dismiss ourselves
So we keep calm and carry on.
The poison perched upon the shelves
But our strength to lift it’s gone.
Each day more taxing than the last
We watch our futures quickly passed
Our dreams like pest so swiftly gassed
They die, our hope hangs at half mast
And so we watch as some retire
Those on cruises, those on pyres
Some as hero’s, some as liars
Some as zeros. Most as criers.
Question what they’re saving for
Dying lessened, craving more
Realising life was quite a bore
Retiring from… they’re not quite sure.
I wandered lonely as a clown,
“I do believe that you mean cloud”
I do believe that you are wrong
I know the sheet I’m singing from
Clouds can start to dissipate
Clowns end up just drinking late
So who is more a lonesome soul
The clouds above that start to roll
Or lonelier the ones who laugh
The ones whose smile is only half
And clouds are often caused by pressure
Clowns keep pills upon their dresser
As pressure comes in many forms
The hot, the cold, the soul that’s torn
So when you say the cloud is lonely
As a clown I say if only
For one day I hope to be
Above the world for all to see
So for now I’ll be quite jealous
Until the day the cloud can tell us
Just how lonely it does feel
Even then I’d strike a deal
I’d trade a place for somewhere sunny
Force the cloud the act so funny
A crying cloud is just the rain
A crying clown that’s real pain.
What the hell is poetry?
“It’s verse and prose, just go with me”
But I have not been taught to rhyme
“Trust me son you’ll learn in time”
I didn’t do it well before
“Well maybe you should practice more”
I don’t think I can do it well
“Well really only time will tell”
But no one has believed in me
“Well I believe, so can’t you see”
I’m bound by what has gone before
“No you’re not, you’re bound for more”
But what if I go on to fail
“Well what is fail if not a tale”
Can my fear begin to lessen?
“Only if you can learn the lesson”
And if I don’t? Repeat mistakes
“Then you should stop, just hit the brakes”
My drive has gone, I’m rolling down
“Well that explains your scolding frown”
I want to smile, I miss that face.
“Are you in a different place?”
Yes and no, well maybe so
“Are you really? Where’d you go?”
I never left but my thoughts change
“Well change it back, that’s not that strange”
If I were able then I would.
“So you mean that if you could?”
Maybe not quite said that way
“Excuses coming every day”
But I was never taught to do
“And I was once the same as you”
No you weren’t, we are not one!
“Be that way then I am done”
I’m sorry I just snapped at me
“I’m sorry too, right back at thee”
Why are you so sorry for
“I guess I just expected more”
You mean from my poetry?
“No, for you to go with me”
I went with you, we met half way
“Then you turned back when things turned grey”
I’m scared just like I said before
“It’s scarier deserving more”
I deserve what I was told
“Well If I could be so bold”
Please go ahead enlighten me
“What you were told, was told for free”
Well yes that’s accurate and true
“So why give it such large value”
Huh? I can’t quite understand
“Okay so yes you’re dealt a hand”
And we all play the same card games
“No we don’t, they’ve different names”
But the rules, they’re universal
“No, your game allows reversal”
Then what, what’s your great advice?
“That some are men and some are mice”
That’s it? The end! Your closing scene?
“No you can choose the space between”
I failed at school, I’m in the minus
“You think these things are what define us?”
I guess not, you’ve helped me see.
“But I am you, and you are me”
I lost hope, got off the ride.
“You can’t get off what is inside”
Will you help me see again
“You are not blind, your demons came”
Will you help me with the fight?
“Only you can muster might”.
Who are you, with compliments?
“I’m your inner confidence”.
I missed you so, why did you run
“You were the trigger, you were the gun”
And what of bullets who were they
“Bullets get loaded every day”
So how am I to stop them shot
“I would say you’d best to not”
But guns are acts of such aggression
“Only in the wrong direction”
So I should focus where I aim
“That is how you win the game”.
Focus on what’s in my control
“Forget the rest that’s what I’m told”.
What a bunch of James Blunts we have in the world. I don’t mean cunts (ooh dropped the C bomb so early on – don’t alienate readers Jake), I mean James Blunts. Mopey fucking idiots who would write entire albums if they could on the tiny little things in their life that inconvenience them.
“You’re beautiful, it’s true. I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don’t know what to do cos I’ll never be with you”. Oh fuck right off JAMES. You’ve just seen this girl in the street and you’re already writing three verses, a bridge and a chorus about how desperately you want to get into her pants while at the same time you’re moaning that you’ll never be with her. Firstly she might not want to be with you, you fucking musical jack the ripper, and secondly she might be just as much of a fucking moron. So how do you know she deserves the effort you’ve put into this 2004 meloncholy medley of stalkerisms. You disgust me James Blunt. And all the James Blunts out there who complain about things they haven’t even attempted to rectify or engage with. Did James Blunt try to speak to this mysterious beauty? No! Was it because he was too high? Probably! Can I relate? Yes! But that’s beside the point because when I’ve been too high to talk to women in the past I haven’t then gone on to write a (annoyingly) number 1 hit single (fuck you Blunt).
Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong though. Maybe James Blunt is right. Maybe I should start writing songs about the insignificant irritations in my life. There is a serious gap in the market for songs about consistently missing out on three meals a day.
“You’re malnourished. You’re malnourished. You’re malnourished, it’s true. I can see your bones. As your stomach groans. you should really eat some food, and put on a pound or two”.
Or a song about my rent-paying worries.
“Goodbye, my income. Goodbye my friends, I can’t a-fford to, I can’t a-fford to go out”.
No, those problems are too real for shitty, repeatitive pop songs. I need to write songs about forgetting to take a jacket out when you leave the house during the afternoon, only for your return journey in the evening to be slightly chillier and you regret not bringing a jacket even though you’d have been inconvenienced with carrying the jacket during the hot times but then you wouldnt be so cold now Jake on this chilly walk home so who is the idiot now.
Ahem. Anyway my point is clearly that people complain too much. I hope my complaint about that has been heard.
I am loving this weather. You don’t understand how much joy it brings me, I love the sun, the warmth, the sweat dripping down my arse crack like a single marble rolling through the grand canyon. It’s wonderful. I love being so warm at night that I have been known to wake up in a pool of fluid questioning whether I’ve been sweating perfusely or I’ve reverted back to childhood habits and pissed myself.
I will not complain, no I will not. I love it all, I love the train journeys where I can smell the balls of the guy standing too close next to me. I can’t get enough of seeing beads of liquid dripping off strangers stuck in a metal box collectively wishing they were either naked or dead.
It’s not often that dichotomy occurs either, wishing you were either naked or dead. In fact I can’t think of any other situation. If I do I’ll be sure to write an entire blog entry on it. I hear people complain about this weather and it drives me insane. Have they forgotten how miserable winter is. And how rain makes you feel depressed and makes you want to stare out of a window looking all meloncholy and pretend you’re in a 80s music video pining for a lost love never to return, “no I’m never gonna dance again, guilty feet ain’t got no rhythm”.
AHH sweet George Michael, You know what I’m talking about. Mostly. I mean I’m not talking about driving into snappy snaps George Michael. That was 2010 GM. I mean 1984 GM (the year, I mean. Not some sort of Orwellian style George Michael that convinces us he is our overlord or something – I don’t know, I haven’t read 1984 but I know enough about it to very loosely reference it in a blog post) what was I saying before those brackets… Ah yeaqh I’m talking the George Michael who cared not about who the fuck he whispered at. Like a G! He knows what I’m saying.
He loves summer. He hates winter probably. Maybe that’s why he drop into that photography shop. He hates all things snap. Cold snaps, the card game snap, snappy snaps. It’s all coming together. Like an operatic orgy climax.
My point is stop complaining about the weather. It’s beautiful. Like objectively beautiful George Michael in Wham!’s last Christmas video. Except that, but in summer. More like Last August Bank Holiday. Not quite as catchy for a song title name though so this is where my absolutely water tight GM analogy fails.
Go outside. See the sun. Stay safe. And pretend that global warming isn’t going to eventually kill us all.
So I currently don’t have a job. Other than my stand up comedy which honestly doesn’t pay enough for me to enjoy the lavish lifestyles rap videos tell me I should be aiming for. Jay-z may have had 99 problems but I feel like if one of those had been unemployment, we wouldn’t know who Jay-z was. Because we live in a society where you need to have money to make money. I’m not suggesting Shawn Corey Carter didn’t have to work hard to ‘get dat money’, I’m just saying the point at which he decided to tell us about his problems, he already had one big solution. Money.
Money can’t buy happiness you’re right, but it can buy publishing deals, PR, advertising etc so come on 2003 Jay-z, that was from your 8th studio album, let’s not get it twisted that you were rich as hell by then.
I know rich people have just as much right to complain about things as the rest of us but at the same time I want to say to them “really?!”, What are those 99 problems Shawn? You can’t decide between Quinoa or Lobster for dinner. Beyonce wants to go to Cuba and you want to go to Milan. Your pockets aren’t big enough to carry the bundles of cash required to help women get over your face and personality and sleep with you EVEN THOUGH you’re with Beyonce. BEYONCE. That’s like Bill Gates stealing £10 from me. It’s wrong. But on multiple, very confusing levels.
I know I titled this “Jobless” although it has primarily been focused on a song Jay-z released in 2003 however I was still in school then and haven’t fully grasped my own fury at the hypocrisy of everything in that man’s life. How dare you complain about problems after Big Daddy Kane helped you so much at the start. You went to school with B.I.G and Busta Rhymes. If you didn’t make it in rap it would have been ridiculous.
What was my point again? Oh yeah, maybe I should start selling crack. That seems to be how a lot of people I respect start up. It seems like there are about 2 ways to make a success of life. Either be handed things by your family or sell drugs on the streets.
And since I don’t have an affluent family I think I may have to resort to travelling to 1980s Brooklyn and shifting that sweet rock to those wanting to fuck their lives up.
Seems like either choice involves some level of an ethical self lobotomy.
On the plus side, that whole album is a banger so I think I’ll have a listen.
(more…)
I haven’t written anything in a long time, and there’s probably been a multitude of reasons for that. I’ve got a new job, before that I was on the cusp of homelessness and before that I was on the brink of suicide.
What a bloody rollercoaster life is, only with much more twists, turns, drops and rises. I like roller coasters ALL the time, they’re a great ride (like your mum). Life on the other hand can often go fuck itself. I think that I’ve learnt a lot about myself in the last few months, I’ve learnt about my ability to make money and live thriftily. I’ve learnt that I’m much happier when I’m doing things for me and not just to make my rent and pay my bills. I was more content in the 5 months I was unemployed then the 9 years I spent working somewhere that I really didn’t want to. It made me realise that life doesn’t need to be something where you’re striving to be constantly happy but more something where you strive to be constantly content. That way, you can allow the happy and sad times to come and go, accept you will have them, and acknowledge that as long as you’re content with where your life rollercoaster is heading, you can enjoy the ride a lot more.
If you’re looking to be constantly happy then in my eyes you’re making a huge mistake, if your normal is happy, then you’re much less likely to notice and take in the good times. And the inevitable bad times life throws your way will feel much worse. We should all strive to simply feel not shitty. And if we’re feeling shitty then we need to not be afraid to make changes required in our lives to stop that. Not to feel constantly ecstatic, but to just wake up and not immediately shout “NO” at the world while counting down the seconds until you get to be back in bed and aren’t infringed by the inconvenience of being conscious. Which is how I’ve felt in the past.
I need to start blogging again more, it makes me feel good, keeps my brain feeling fresh and is also a strong finger work out (just like your mum).
This isn’t the best post I’ve written but I’m easing myself into it – insert mum joke here- and it’s more for me this one. However I hope you’ve enjoyed it too, which is exactly the last thing I said to your mum.
God I’m such a child.
Jake Pickford 