new beginning

I realise I’ve been off for a massive amount of time. For almost four years I spent my time in the loving comfort of a man I thought would love me forever, I married him, only to hear on my sister’s (BFF) wedding he was in love with someone else three months after we were wedded, my life changed very quickly and I’m now most nights alone with my keypad and an empty glass of spirit that needs toping up. And if I have the money it’s filled.

The next few weeks will be filled with moving on and exciting missions no doubt.

Settled

Eventually after a lot of rubbish and confusion I have finally settled and am sitting at my computer writing. It's taken a while.
Postal Service beat through the speakers, I have a wee hangover and have spent an evening asphyxiating on bleach.
After leaving my wonderful life in Liverpool and moving back to the emotional trenches of beautiful Suffolk, I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn't care what the next step is and should just enjoy the moment.
Went to my Grandma's and we watched a brilliant programme called 'My Life as a Turkey'.
Don't let the name fool you, it was cracking. The scientist involved says that wild turkeys are always in the moment and he learnt how to never betray that by thinking of the future.
This statement made a lot of sense.

Currantly I am looking for a job and am stressing about my marriage. Will it survive? I hope so. I'm going to Edinburgh to see him this weekend. Who knows what could happen in the small time we have with each other. I know it's the longest time we've spent together since the split.

But I shouldn't stress. I should just get on with writing. My siblings and a group of friends are putting together a magazine. Very early stages. So I don't want to say anything too soon. I know I'm working on a graphic novel idea that will go into it. I also am going to do some reviews and features on new, underground poets/writers. Today is about persuing them.

I need a team of writers to help but I'm struggling to find any willing to do so. I'll keep on trucking. Gonna make this work.

Babies and Cigarettes

Every one's growing up.
Does no one else fear this? I do every day. I never wanted to grow up, I wanted to go to Neverland with Peter Pan. Cunt never came for me.

I know a few who are pregnant or already have babies.
Not that I've talked to them about it, the wonders of facebook. You can care about someone without them ever knowing.
What would be the reason for entering someones life again other than your own selfish nosiness?
I used to be really broody. In the first year of my relationship. I was so desperate to have a baby. There is still a sense deep down, under the never wanting to give up cigarettes, booze, partying, careering.
Babies would ruin mine and mark's life, without a doubt.
But when I see these people on facebook who I know with babies or are pregnant I feel such a sick pang of jealousy. It makes me very angry very quickly.
Which is stupid? Right?
I know that I want more than anything in this world to be a published, successful and free writer, to play music, paint and knit in my spare time.
Babies would fuck all that up. I wouldn't be able to adventure.

I look at all the friends I have now, they are ambitious and feisty and don't ever want to be anchored by a baby. I feel happy and uncomfortable when I think of them, my life in a nutshell.
So apart from the girls with their babies and secured homes.
I hate being a woman. I know mark doesn't have this pang. I know most men don't have this maternal pang of doom (of course some may I'm not generalising totally).

So to get my mind off it I'll plan my attack on the governments new plan for outcasting smokers.
They're gonna put cigarettes under counters, out of site, in blank packets (no image, insignia or text) as off April next year.
Way to make smokers feel punished.

Sick Days.

And what is the expected routine of a sick day?
Well the time inbetween your head throbbing, stomach aching (hunger and sickness), listening to your flatmates jibber their loudest and bang around on the floor above you whilst screetching stupid fucking noises, trips to the toilet to wee out all the water your hoping will make you better and being the bitterest, nastiest tempered person alive... you watch Hellboy and read Fances Osbourne.

And if these don't work you try to sleep through the racket and dream of living in the middle of nowhere, lying in a bed that didn't break 2 weeks ago so you've had to resort to the matress again, eating nice food and not just the half emptied, cold box of free takeaway noodles next to your 'not bed'.

Seriously I'm just short tempered, at least I have an understanding boss, who doesn't chastise me for not coming to work when my had has (metaphorically) fallen off.
Mark unfortunately is at work and in a job that he hates.
Sorry babe.

Day off.

So named 'Days Off' are meant to be relaxing, get the menial tasks you've needed to do, done. They are meant to carry a certain amount of activity in. Maybe a walk or a trip into town, but no more than what is comfortable. Some people just spend all day in bed, watching shit, eating crap. Some people read all day, or play games. Days off are important for your mind, body and attitude. How ever much you put your fingers in your ears and sing loudly, you can't deny that a little R and R is essential to carry on.

Too many people I love dearly stick their fingers in their ears.
Growing up with parents who never stopped. Ever. Workaholics and stress heads.
A (soon to be) husband who will brutalise himself if he has a second off working.
And now a best friend who has hospitalised herself.
I realise this mind frame, I have it but I have vices that help me chill, knitting and drinking among them.

Stress is a killer and I get angry when people damage themselves.
So calm the fuck down everyone.
Things will continue with or without you damaging yourself.

Another Hangover

The title explains it all.
I've been pondering on many things today. Will the Hulk with Edward Norton be any better than the Hulk with Eric Banana? Will a fish finger sandwich cure me of this hangover? How will I tell my friends that I have no money to drink with them tonight and not get the stink eye from them? Will I watch them plunge their hands in their pockets and sigh?
Questions that won't answered until they are experienced.
The only answer I can find now is that Twitter is a bigger shit container. At least on facebook you see photography, on my space you hear music, blogs you read fiction. And twitter? It's one liners that no one wanted to know in the first place. It's 150 characters of shit, (or whatever the required writing space is).
People keep adding me, I haven't written anything on it for a months.

Subject of today. Minecraft. A fascinating world which creators can expand beyond their own map making ablilites.
I thought it was geeky and shit to begin with. Block people with block trees and block mud, but I'm finding it ever more addicive to watch on YOGSCAST. A youtube commentary of two nerd explorers who have a wonderful imagination and are fully ready to acknowledge how nerdy they are, which makes it very fun to watch.

Tired from traveling for hours to and from work. Sick of noodles for lunch but have a day at home tomorrow. Not my own day mind. A day of typing and converting 1930-50's knitting patterns. Hard, arduios work, but the end result will be cracking. So worth it all in the end.

No result without effort.

Shit Containers

After heavy internal debate about whether to watch a film or a borrowed series, I decided to check my 3 sites. Hotmail, Facebook, Ravelry and was promptly reminded by a co worker of fibre and clay that... what is that? I have a blog? Shit. I must have forgotten it's exsistance. Like when you forget the existance of a plug lying tongs up and then you stand on the fucker a couple of months later and you feel really bad because someone may have stood on it and hurt themselves as much as you just did.

So I thought I'd actually do something about the plug, instead of letting people stumble on the blog, see the date and think, this is unloved and usless and I should just go and stand on a plug to relieve the bordem it poses.

I find it very hard to keep continuous face, webbly speaking, I tried to do project 365 days. A photo every day for a year. Upon loading my first photo I was filled with excitment, enthusiasm and energy, that maybe I could properly commite to something on the internet. And it would be piss easy. Take a photo a day. I do that anyway, I'm a fun loving person who wants to record all the wonderful things that fill my days... I haven't put up another photo since.
That was almost a month ago.

I did really believe that my interest for it may stay a little longer than 24 hours but alsa no.
Keeping a record on the internet why?
I could make excusses to why I haven't, but are there excusses because people do?
Day in and day out of their lives.
What have they cooked? What did their kids do? What is the weather doing?
I find myself scrawling through the pages and pages of blogs and becoming utterly suicidel.
Every blog is not like this of course and I realise it is a powerful advertiser for a independant product.
It is also a good way to illuminate yourselves it you want to be illuminated.

But I was put off by the shit containers in blog form.
And every time I've tried to do it myself I've asked myself does anyone care enough?
No. No they don't.
But if it makes me feel productive then fuck them.
I'm going to try and perservere with my shit container blog.

A Great Come Back.

Almost a months quiet on the blogging front.

Without Internet things have been increasingly difficult to do online (as one can imagine).
Days have been filled with setting up my life after university. After leaving educational structure and not having a family home to fall into like I did in my year out I've been presented with the future.
My own mark in life, my own way of living and gaining the next step.
This is not an easy thing to find. And although I sorely miss my musical desires I think I may have started building my future.

I started working for Fibre and Clay, a beautiful specialised sweetie (yarn) shop. It's in Knutsford (2 hours journey from my house) but is a scenic journey on which I can write short hand ideas. Riana (a saucy South African who likes to say 'golly') and Nigel (a book extremist like myself) are the proprietors of this shop and an absolute pleasure to work with.
This takes up three of my days.
I've also started an internship with Arbour House publishing, which is run by Gavin the sweet tooth and Susan mistress of vintage design. They also govern the very popular knitonthenet and like growing overly large cauliflowers. I've just been given a book to skim through and give my opinion of that is a probable next in line to be published, which is fantastically exciting.
This takes up two of my days.

The two days off I get are spent writing the first chapter of 'Fixed' which is now 'Rucksacks' and seeing friends.

I've also started diary entries of becoming a zombie and what goes through a zombies mind from day to day. This is just a fun writing activity for now, but who knows where it may lead.

The only thing lacking in my life is my family, who I miss desperately every day more and more. With all of this woolly work I long to show my support and help for The Natural Dye Studio, who have been my way in to everything.
I will still only ever create with their wool. It is truly the Superior.
All of my family are taking big brave steps towards their future and I admire them and wish I could be there with them to support and laugh and cry.

I'll endeavour to do this as much as possible but that all depends on where I can find the Internet.
Over and out.

A celebratory drink

I feel Guilty.
Drinking Dad's Adnams but I felt I deserved a treat after spending five hours making character profiles. That's five down, five to go. I never realised they would take so looong! But I am loving every bit of it. I've done all the siblings and one of the nannies, but now I have to do three nannies and two parents.

I've already done the location research and the timeline.
Although the locations research could be better. Anybody know anything - lovely fact, grueling story - about Villeneuve in Switzerland,
Reykjavik in Iceland,
Passau in Germany
Torino (Turin) in Italy?
Anything would help as I've never visited those places but that's where part of the story is based and I want it to be as realistic as possible.
You can tell me stories OR pay for me to go there and sap up the surroundings. A week in each place would be great. Thanks.

Back to reality.
I'll be going back to Liverpool in four days. Been missing Mark FAR too much. I don't want to do this month apart thing again. It's just not cool, it throws off my concentration.

After the character profiles are done I need to out line the plot chapter by chapter and then I throw myself head long into it. And you may not hear from me for many months. Who knows, maybe even centuries... I hope not.

The long process is always the re drafting, writing after so much development should be quite enjoyable and easy... but then you can never tell until you doing it.

Similarities

Between seeing Markamillion and preparing for 'i knit' I have had little time to do anything writing based apart from finishing a debauched book and planning a timeline for all of my characters in 'Fixed'. It spans from 1938 with the oldest character Gregory Elliott and runs up to the currant day 2010 with the death of the second oldest character Samantha Elliott.

Just started to read 'White Teeth' by Zadie Smith and have come to an obstacle in 'Fixed'. 'White Teeth' main protagonist is called Archie, my main character is called Arthur. Both stories span over a few generations. I realise they are not the same at all apart from these factors but that was enough to freak me out.
I want 'Fixed' to be as unique as possible and 'White Teeth' is beautifully unique in all aspects so I can't under no circumstances have any similarities between them.

I'm so glad I picked up 'White Teeth' I've heard so many good things about it, everything I've heard is true so far. It's brilliant.

Jobs = dangerous for creation

Just finished one of the most sexually graphic unhygienic, yet addictive books I've ever read. It's called 'Wetlands', by Charlotte Roche. A girl recovering from a operation with too much time to think about her sexual antics and opinions on hygiene. Although I felt dirty reading it most of the time, her character was well developed and beautifully written. It's well worth the read if you have a strong stomach.
The end is totally unexpected. A firm thumbs up from me.

Whilst helping out at NDS I haven't had much time to develop my story., jobs exhaust you so much that when you get home from working solidly for nine hours you just want to read or watch TV. This is disappointing but I am writing dialogue in my spare time, which is easy and fun and obviously helpful for furthering the idea in my mind.

My dialogue is between Hildi again as her character is the one I am focusing on at the moment. She's a fascinating character in my mind and I'm only finding more stories from her, maybe a side short story?
I have to be careful though because if I start writing side projects then I won't ever finish 'Fixed'.

Tricky, tricky.

Elaine (5) complaining to Hildi because she doesn’t want to go to boarding school in a week. Hildi is teaching Elaine how to her tie shoelaces.



Elaine – I don’t want to go.
Hildi – You have to.
Elaine – But I want to stay here.
Hildi – No buts, you have to.
Elaine – But why?
Hildi – You want to be clever don’t you?
Elaine – No.
Hildi – You do.
Elaine – No, I want to be stupid.
Hildi – You already are stupid.


Hildi tickles Elaine, Elaine giggles.


Elaine – But I’ll be away from you.
Hildi – And your parents.
Elaine – I don’t love them.
Hildi – Don’t say that Elaine Elliott, that’s bad and you don’t mean it.
Elaine – Sorry.
Hildi – Properly kinder.


Pause


Elaine – I’m sorry.
Hildi – Good. Now concentrate. Put the loop through where?
Elaine – Here.
Hildi – Good, and then?
Elaine – Then the rabbit goes into the tree and out again.
Hildi – Now double knot or it’ll just come out when you’re rolling around.
Elaine – I don’t roll.
Hildi – Yes you do like a little pudding.


Elaine giggles again, Hildi smiles.


Elaine – What happens if I don’t make any friends?
Hildi – You will.
Elaine – How do you know?
Hildi - You are the chattiest girl I’ve ever met.
Elaine – Chat, chat, chat.
Hildi – See?

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Hildimar Wiese

The fecking spiders are out to get me today.
Not only have I heard branches twang into life behind me, but I also picked up a bucket with a wolf spider and ne'er crapped me self.
I don't think I'll be having very good dreams tonight...

Yesterday was spent entirely by myself (and the flies, but they don't count because I kept killing them) and developing Hildimar Wiese. The first nanny in 'Fixed'


CHARACTER PROFILE.
Born 2nd December 1945 - Germany.
Parents were both German, they were to afraid too leave the country through-out the war, but in their own way rebelled silently towards Hitler's rules. Both keeping books that should have been burnt. Her mother pretends she is infertile as she doesn't want to raise children in the Nazi rule.

Hildi grew up in Italy - moved to England to become an Au pair, ended up at Elliott's manor as she was a good wet nurse.
Looked after Elaine (first child born in the Elliott family) for year and a half before Janette (second nanny) arrived to look after second child, Georgia.
Janette is nosey and loud, Hildi doesn't like her, she turns introverted and grumpy.
Hildi loves Elaine though, just like she would her own child. She watches her grow, plays with her, cares for her wounds and teaches her how to read, watches her walk for the first time and listens to her first word.
In every respect Hildi is Elaine's mother.

At five Elaine goes to boarding school. Hildi leaves the Manor, broken hearted. She moves to Switzerland, becomes a teaching assistant and falls in love with a teacher who later dies in a train crash.
She has a baby with the teacher and is left as a single mother.

There is more story between Elaine and Hildi, but that's all I want to say. Suffice it to say it is a happy thread in 'Fixed'.
They can't all be depressing.

I feel a bit silly saying this, but all work and idea's written on this blog are mine, if anyone else steals them, I'll cut their balls off with a china cup. Copyrighted to Daisy-Mae Perkins. 

Bigging up some other blogs.

I’m beginning to see how important blogs are. How fun they are. There are thousands - possibley even millions out there - when I'm going from blog to blog trying to find work I like, I feel a little like looking through the clothes racks of TK Max. It's alright, but every so often there is one delicious item.
Blogs seem to be a good way of cleansing ones emotions, getting worries or annoyances of your chest, of publising yourself and finding imspiration in others.
As I've not been able to blog (mum's laptop was gone for the weekend) I've instead researched about others blogs and here are some I really like, that people should check out.

Fep's Artists. There's only three posts but the range of artists is cracking. Lots of colour and a good chance to see some fresh work coming from all pockets of the world.

Booker Lover. Good list of reviews on prize winning recent novels.

Neil . I know, I know, everyone who loves reading and blogs is probably already following Neil Gaiman, but if you not then click here and see what you think.

The real date.

I've been working on new dialogue but alas I've no time to put it up as mum will need her computer back very soon. Instead I thought I might introduce you to mice-deer.

An absolutely fascinating creature which is only 10 centimetres tall. (Or so I read, I'm happy to admit if I'm wrong and there is a Mouse-deer fanatic out there appalled by my knowledge.)

I was thinking about writing a poem for them. An ode to the mouse-deer.

Sadly just as I've found a way to blog, I will get it snatched away from me. Mum and dad are leaving today for a vintage wedding, they will be taking all computers with them, I won't be able to blog, but I will write it on word and when they get back on sunday/monday? I'll upload the blogs.

17th August 2010

I’ve written this twice now. (I’m missing Greenwing in the other room to re write this! Baynton I hope you understand.). Stupid blogger didn’t publish it when I told it to. So to say what I said before in short.


If you are a fan of a mixture of music, then listen to ‘FJH’ on Soundcloud. He is a music cocktail master in dubstep/hiphop form. I’ve been listening to him all day and I’m happily hooked.
I’ve also got a solid form of my story ‘Fixed’.

Four nannies bring up four siblings in a manor house. It starts with the fathers death, Tabitha and Arthur my protagonist twins find themselves unaffected by this and seek out their nannies who parented them more than their own parents.

It has a tragic end and that’s all I’m saying now. If I want my story to be a good read I can’t just line everything out on the table.

I’ve written a short piece of dialogue between Hildi (the eldest daughters nanny, who was born the year the second world war finished to German parents) and Janette (the second eldest daughters nanny, who is nosey and irritable).
Their conversation takes place outside while they are hanging clothes out to dry, Janette sees a cat on the roof of the Manor.

Jan – Is that a cat?
Hildi – Where?
Jan – On the roof.
Hildi – Where?
Jan – The roof.
Hildi – Yes.
Jan – The Elliott’s don’t own a cat.
Hildi - It’s stray.
Jan – The dogs must have chased it up there.
Hildi nods
Jan – I hate cats, I’d chase it up there too.
Hildi nods
Jan – You a dog person?
Hildi – I’m not a dog.
Jan – No I mean dog person, you prefer dogs.
Hildi – I understand, I’m not a dog.
Jan – Suit yourself.

16th August 2010

Home Again.
I’m sitting in the living room drinking Roko and smoking Drum Gold. The house is sparse of furniture and the dogs are as ever furring the place up. There are no more fish in the tank and I have a lilo to sleep on for the next month. Oblivion’s theme tune is playing in the background and I am witness to the new form of parents. The parents who are all about wool and who love and nurture not children but an ever growing international business which will one day take over the world… at least there is still a sofa in the living room.
I have found the power of a hand held fly swat. There is an electric fly racket on the window sill and a big fly zapping machine in the kitchen. This is a house of fly death. But still there are many around. Bastards.

Development on ‘Fixed’ is still slow, but I’ve only just got back so give me time. In a week I will have set out the whole story. And then the first chapter the next week. The next post will be a conversation – like earlier conversation between Tab and Art – this one will be between the nannies in Elliott Manor. Strictly only another dialogue/character development piece. But hopefully good to read.

Lost with technology.

Not only have I not been able to find an Internet recently but the computers (apart from my mum's which is this one) do not let me publish my posts on blogger.
I have a long line of blogs, saved on word, just waiting desperately to get onto blogger. But mum is a busy lady and I have to wait till she is not on her computer, to upload all of the posts of late.

As I am at NDS winding silk right now I won't be able to do it, but hopefully later on today I'll be able to steal her computer again for ten seconds to get the blogs up.

There is some dialogue and other such excitements to share, but I can't remember any of them. So maybe they're not that exciting... who knows this could be a cliff hanger.

Till later folks.

Attraction, revulsion.

Whilst I listen to Jess Green plodding down the stairs singing 'she says she needs me,' the smell of emulsion and gloss fill my nostrils. I can taste the stuff on my finger tips. When I was asked to paint a hallway and a bedroom I didn't quite realise how big the hallway was and although the bedroom took half a day, the hallway took two days. You see it is three floors of hallway.

But now with it all done and dusted (or painted) I can sit down and write a blog and phone up my sister. Two things I have been looking forward to.

I can't stop thinking about Sherlock Holmes out of the three part series that's just finished. I can't seem to sculpt a word exquisite enough for him. I find it rather unnerving being in a happy relationship, with no qualms or complaints but still finding another man (specially a made up character) so unnaturally incredible.
I know this is a highly normal thing. People all the time find themselves attracted to other people when they are contented with someone else.
Blessfully for me I am attracted to fictional characters instead of real people.

I dipped into 'The Living Planet' by living legend David Attenborough, the first few chapters are about the evolution of man kind, I never knew David was such a fan of Charles Darwin and the bits I have scanned over talk about animals mating and courting rituals.
Very few animals stick with one partner, I considered human beings to be one of those few but that's such bullocks. Some romantic souls will stick with one partner if that's what they choose, it's never easy though, there are times when they don't want to be with each other but stay together because of love.
It's more of a mental strength than a physical and natural requirement. If you boil it down animals do what they do to further their species. To survive themselves. Surely having as many partners and making as many babies is what is required of them.
But I am a romantic and know the world is overly populated, humans are breeding too much, so I'll stay with the same man and leave off the breeding for now.
Humans are perplexing. I hate humans most of the time, seeing what they have done to the world and nature, seeing how many animals and plants they have made extinct. It's survival of the fittest, but humans aren't fit, they are just cunning.
I think Tabitha and Arthur will adopt this attitude about the world. Only Tabitha's will be more extreme. I haven't been able to develop anymore of 'Fixed' as I've been painting, but I can pick that up again too.

I read in the Guardian that Steven Hawkins advises humans to live in space away from this planet. Apparently human beings will destroy themselves in the next two centuries and space may be the only place to continue life. Agreed, but lets try not to fuck the planet to begin with.