I Shall Be Released
...tonight.Tonight was one of those nights where everything just falls into place somehow. The weather all day was beautiful, and Clare and I bussed up to the cineplex on the outskirts of Dundee where we went to see - finally - The Hulk, which I thought was really well done. I mean as a comic-book character he's one who has been done well and badly, and in this case he was done on quite a deep level, the movie wasn't just like 'here's a guy who gets emotional and goes apeshit' it explored all his... psychological nuances, and so many comic book adaptrations fail because they don't flesh OUT the characters. I mean, fuck- you can't just takle a two-dimensional character from a comic and pout him in three dimensions - kinda - on a screen without some degree of adaptation, right? Mmm.

I think it also goes without saying that it's good being able to get into the spirit of movies like that without being self-conscious. My ex-girlfriend was sucha tight-ass that way. Took her to see Spiderman and she didn't crack a smile for two hours. Like, fuck- that was such a good-feeling movie- how can you not crack a smile?

It's... well, still weird. I was with HER a long time, and I guess in some respects I often expect... less from Clare than I inevitably recieve. My initial nerves about getting into a relationshiop again have... more or less started to subside, yet still I tend some nervousness.

Anyways, from the movie we went to the park. Walked. Chased each other goofily. Discussed what screwed up superheroes we'd both make, and that sort of segued out of the blue into a Band singalong- which was... so amazing. Being out in the woods alone with her, being ALLOWED to be goofy and let myself go. Trying to sing in the right tones to emulate each guy. I'm going somewhere between Richard Manuel and Robbie Robertson's... bizarro-o vocal on 'To Kingdom Come' which I was just... hitting right on the head (it's all in the nose)- and a little Levon helm, but not quite getting either right. Clare is pure Rick Danko- which is nothing but cute, bujt she has one of those voices that can go from sounding like that to... like Bonnie Raitt. Not taht i know more than a couple of Bonnie Raitt songs. That goes way back to Windsor my.. first love, who recorded them on a mixertape hoping I'd pick up on the subliminal messages I was leaving her. She was the first Canadian girlfriend I had, and not the last.

Anyways, I love The Band. Have I ever pointed that out? And we really nailed 'THe Weight' and 'THe Unfaithful Servant'.. I think we were actually channeling Rick Danko and Richard manuel's spirits which... is a mindblowing thing to concieve.

Anyways. The bus ride back was a parade of weirdos, and we walked up Hilltown trying not to eavesdrop some couple's domestic. Dundee is a weird city that way. It's like people enjoy having arguments with their boy/girlfriends in public.

Hmm. No domestics here. That's.. alien- but I'm not going to complain or.. tempt fate.

We spent the night curled up on the couch listening to Bryter Layter by Nick Drake on vinyl, a new aquisition- snuggled, smooching lazily.

I love those quiet moments where everything is just relaxed. Where evrything is just... right.

Things went good, things are going good...

Fingers crossed they carry on that way.

( melancholy winesoaked tenderness )
Late. I spent most of today in Edinburgh. Wandering with Clare. I had to pick up a bunch of art supplies. I’m getting through black and white acrylic paints right now like they’re going out of style, so it was like ‘Hi, elfin ‘Amelie’-look-alike, can I have the biggest pot of white acrylic you have, and uh- do you have one black the same size?’ I swear I’ve never spent so much on art materials in one trip as I did today. This impasto shit is really… working for me though. Its basically me doing what I’ve been doing with layered paint for the last decade, only with much thicker layers, and even more loose than I had BEEN painting, say, a few months ago. It’s messy and physical, and I think I get more out of painting when there’s sweat and muscle strain involved. Hah.

So anyways. Clare was… looking wasted. Funky, and cute, but wasted all the same. She’s trying to organise her move to Dundee in time for the new semester - she too is interested into going into teaching, and unlike me she actually didn't leave it late to apply for the year long course - and it’s not exactly going well. Reassuringly I have found someone more disorganised than I am- kind of… a rarity.

I told her about the prank calls I'vew been getting. It didn't go down well with her, I think she is more pissed about it than I am.

We didn’t spend much time in the city, in fact rather than stay she said she wanted to come back with me, which I wasn’t into, but when I said I’d rather stay at hers and wade my way through her accumulating boxes she looked put out.

We came back to Dundee, made a couple of pizzas, curled up on the couch and watched a couple of DVDs.

Kind of boring to most people, I’m sure, but just being with her is enough. I missed her all week, and I guess I’m just happy to have someone.

Not to be fucking alone.

Jeez. I need to go curl up in bed. What am I doing writing this? What’s wrong with me?

( insom-ni-ahhhh )
I can't sleep.

I got prank called at one am this morning, I think by my ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend, Russell. In fact, I'd put money on her being behind my being harassed. I keep being hung up on, and since I'm pretty short on enemies, she draws the short straw. Actually she draws the only straw.

It's sort of patheitic to think she might still be playing with me. What do you do when your ex won't stay your ex? Anyone with suggestions, do email me...

Anyways. My current girlfriend - I say that tentatively, it's early days - has been concerned about the same thing of late. Jen being gone. Jen potentially showing up on my doorstep unannounced.

Sometiems we spend so much of our time trying to reassure each other.

The distance isn't helping. This seeing each other on the weekends has never exactly been easy, and it didn't do anything but grate before when we were dating.

Anyways...

Four thirty, Saturday morning. Last night the wonderful Cameron won Big Brother 4, and I was... infinitely jovial about that.

I loved that guy. He deserved to win.

In this screwed up, jaded world it's nice to see someone in their mid-thirties so humble and sweet and almost innocent and child-like win a competition against a group of hip young things , and regardless of not being exactly religious, I also think it's great to see someone who IS win such a contest.

Cameron was a star. Entertaining. Funny. Daft. HE made me actually proud to be Scottish, and I can't actually recall the last time I felt patriotic, besides that one time I watched Braveheart when it was first out and wanted to go slay some English people.

Not that I have a problem with English people, I just feel that sometimes they STILL look down their noses at their northern neighbours.

And I'm rambling...

Passing the time til I get to walk to the station, pick up my girl and spend the weekend making up for all this lost time.

(naive melody)


Late. I should be tired from this early 'Reusing'

I miss cuddling my girlfriend, even though I only saw her two days ago, I guess I’m just feeling stupidly lonesome tonight- and I think I’m on sensory overload because of all the things that I finally have the desire and most of all the unshackled freedom to do and… not enough time to really organise doing them.

Clare had brought up both of us going to France because she’s never been, and I think I was all for that until getting time off became an issue, as did having to pay another years Insurance for the flat in a oner.

Grrr-arrrghh!.

Not that I mind the commitment of work, part-time or not. I spent too long directionlessly loitering around the apartment working to my own rules and agendas- and often stagnating as a result of having too much freedom. Boundaries and other peoples disciplinary structuring of your life can be… good. I haven’t had so much structure in my life since art school, and in many ways I can see where things had been screwing up in my life BECAUSE of that…

Even if declaring that I teach people art, still… still sounds really whacked out to me.

Teaching is intensive, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s amazing how involved I feel myself with the three days a week I teach the eleven intermediates art and design.

Class today was good. I had been a little anxious about going in after Saturday's shenanigans of taking my class on a spontaneous location drawing trip to the beach without clearance... safety issues supposedly. But there were no letters on my desk, which I was surprised about. And relieved. At least I know now that there are channels I have to go through to avoid slaps on the wrist from the high heid yins.

One of my students, Angie, asked me today about studying art history within a practical degree course (as opposed to studying art history as your major) and it occurred to me how much I have let the thesis I've been trying to write for the last year slide. My thesis that has never really gotten beyond a pile of dog-eared notes and scribbles.

I’m going to go to the library in the morning, spend an immense amount of money on photocopies and get started. There’s so much I’ve forgotten, a lot of the things I’ve forgotten are the things that made me love art in the first place, and want to be an artist. And now in being in the position of trying to inspire others to follow suit, I think I really need… I need to rediscover all the passion that x-number of bad relationships and stagnant artists-block have taken out of me.

Anyways… I should really go and crawl back into bed, or curl up on the couch with my bulky stereo headphones and listen to a record or two.

I watched 'Stop Making Sense' again tonight. My rediscovery of my love for Talking Heads and David Byrne continues.

I miss the eighties.

Goodnight, kids.