... but I still got my music, so let's give that a

A bit scatty at the moment, hence why all over my house, not a creature is stirring... except for my mouse. Hey, that was pretty clever, eh? Canadians say "eh" a lot, as in "ay", but not like the Fonz, that's more like "aaaaaay!"... see what I mean?

All my braincells unanimously voted to switch off to work this afternoon, so I'll have some hell to pay on Monday. Fuck it, I work to live, not live to work... so sometimes, there are things more important.

Hooked up with Jinty after work, who has got absolutely no idea how to deal with someone who has just lost someone. Have had to try and convince her that no-one really does, because she was getting all bleary eyed... got some shopping on the way home to tide me over for the weekend, called my parents house to let them know I got the message when I got home. Spoke to my Dad, who explained what happened, then unsuprisingly even under the circumstances tried to convince me to buy my Gran's house. Made plans for me going over for the funeral and stuff. All was good... started cooking me and Jinty some dinner, and my little 11 year old sis called me back. A profound moment... being the concerned bigger brother, I was asking her carefully how she's doing and stuff, then as adult as you like, she asked if I was OK. It was just one of those moments... as I've said, my sis is really cool. Then my Mum came on... she's really upset, this has all happened so quickly, but she's exhausted from dealing with it, so she was really teary. Then came another profound moment... y'know, all my life, as a kid at least, when all the bad stuff happened (there was quite a lot of bad family stuff when I was young, but that's stories for another day) or even when silly stuff happened like I fell and cut my knee, my Mum was the comforter, the grown-up shoulder to cry on. On the phone tonight, the role was completely reversed, and it was me being the level-headed comforter. It felt pretty special. I love my family, I really do hate that I don't care to bond with them enough except in a crisis.

Got off the phone with a distinct disability to sit on my arse. Cooked dinner, done the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, Janette had to practically force me to chill out a bit. Read my PC magazine for a bit to clear my head while she played SimCity... she gave up the PC to watch her shitcoms, so I farted about a bit, got MSN working on my home machine again and chatted a bit. Logged off after a bit of nagging and talked to Janette for a bit... then for some reason ended up watching old Minus3 videos. I think we got there from a discussion about making home porno or something... hmm...

Been strangely entertaining watching these videos. Watched a tape of our first "proper" (as in, the first with me, Jamie and Cuff... no Posh, we didn't even know him then) performance in the Cathouse at Janette's demand (even though she was actually at the gig... this is from before we got together, though), and was quite suprised at the quality of it. We looked nervous as hell and had lots of awkward silences between songs (unlike now, where it's impossible to get us to shut the fuck up), but the performance was sound. Got me all excited about playing next week. Then, for a laugh, we watched a tape of old Minus3... I'm talking the real old shit, back when all the songs were Meech songs, he sung & played bass, Cuff was about 100 times bigger than he is now, I had a nice line in ridiculous haircuts, and no-one really knew the weird Australian guy with the girly curls in the background. It was fuckin' dreadful... I mean, if I ever get down about my performance these days, I should just stick one of these tapes on. It's like watching one of those 'Before They Were Famous' shows, and we're not even famous, and it wasn't even that long ago (about 2 - 3 years?). Hilariously bad... both Minus3 and the mighty Kamikazes totally wipe the floor with that shite back then. Then, we went forward in time again to another proper Minus3 gig, the difference was amazing. You just don't notice the change until you look back... makes you wonder exactly where you're going to be if you stick at it.

Anyway, to tie this garbage I'm writing up in some way, I've got a real buzz about the band tonight. I don't care for fame and fortune, I just need this fuckin' band right now. It's my outlet for all the bad times, something to keep me high in the good times, it's my link to a world that I'll probably never really leave behind. My Mum said to me a couple of weeks ago that my Gran was fiercely proud of the fact that I play in a gigging, recording band... sure, we're really small potatoes, but she got a real kick out of knowing someone in the family is out there performing, even if it's to a world she never really approved of. It occured to me that, however un-rock 'n' roll this sounds, my parents are proud, too. They've never really discouraged me... when I think back to all the times when I was younger they used to give me grief for sitting around doing nothing but play guitar and loud music, I realise they weren't trying to tell me not to do it, they were just trying to get me to find my feet in the "real" world. Now I'm doing both, and they're well chuffed. Minus3 might never be anything more than a local waste of time, but that in itself means a lot to me... and it's just all the more motivation to turn it into something really fuckin' amazing. As if I don't have enough motivation as it is... I play exactly what I've always wanted to with the best damn motherfuckers a man could ask to rock with, what more could anyone want?

Hey, one of my own fucking songs nearly brought me to tears tonight (yeah, not for the same reasons it may bring you to tears, I know what you're thinking fuckos). How fucked is that? How sad is that? "Time After Time"... the sentiment of that song is often mistaken for a failed relationship... it's not. Look at the bigger picture, if you ever hear it.

I don't half write a bunch of rambling shite at this time of the morning (and... all other times too). Hey, it's therapeudic, no-one reading this should take it as something they should know me by, it's just my shit, and should be taken as nothing but shit. Anyway, I did mention I'm feeling pretty scatty just now... suprisingly, I'm not drunk.

Posh's Uncle signed up to comment on his journal, and to say he passed some of the stuff over to his Mum for reasons I'm sure you can ask about elsewhere. I thought it was really sweet... a really special thing to do. I then thought, holy fuck... I don't want my family to be reading this, what with all the fucking disgraceful language and all that shit. Shit, bollocks, cunt, arse, fuck, and wank to be precise. Sorry Mum, that's what I thought!

I think I should go lie down or something, before I go totally senile. Jinty fell asleep ages ago, I'm thinking I should go join her.

Yep... time to go Dreaming In A. Tomorrow, I'll be much less full of gibberish, and much more focussed. Yep.