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When I was a teenager I lived the clich├ęs, man. Lonely, awkward, bullied kid from a small town? Yeah, who wasn't? Nothing to do, nowhere to go, nobody to see. All I had was a radio.

Music was my life. This was before the internet, before you could have any music you wanted at a click, before custom-made radio on I had Steve Lamacq and John Peel and that was it. Mind you that was all I needed: a litany of wonderful bands who would never sell a record and it didn't matter. Bands who were, in hindsight, sometimes thunderingly shit, but that wasn't the point. The point was discovering the good stuff. The point was feeling excited about it, feeling like those DJs were sharing something they were genuinely cockahoop about with you. Everything else in life was rubbish, but how many kids in small towns felt that bit better for those radio shows? No small number, I'll bet.

Now I don't want Radio 1 to go back to that. That isn't the point. This isn't some romanticised yearning to be 16 again as I would rather put my face in a blender. It is, however, a way of saying "look, radio matters." Therefore 6music matters, the BBC station they want to kill. The BBC station which is the spirit of my teenage evenings writ large. The BBC station which isn't about bullshit except when George Lamb is on: it's about (and there's a clue in the title) MUSIC.

And oh I know, just go on you pillock. And I frequently do. It's good but it isn't the same. There's no personal touch. There's no getting to hear the joy someone has about sharing something they're genuinely excited about with you. There's no live stuff, that's for damn sure.

I don't mean to be Indie Bore, when I could shut up and listen to some pop music instead of 10,000 jingly jangly indie schmindie bands. But dammit I LIKE jingly jangly indie schmindie. That and, as pointed out on, if 6music goes, Radio 1 is going to be forced into being all things to all people again. Which means less pop. Which means everyone loses.

I grew up with the radio on constantly. It was a lifeline to a seriously unhappy youngster. When I was a seriously unhappy adult and had the energy for nothing BUT listening to the radio, it was a lifeline again. Discovering a song you love for the first time is one of life's eternal pleasures. Not all of us can go to gigs and find things on our own.

Music matters. Radio matters. That's why BBC 6music matters. I suspect to more than just myself.

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I have trouble getting to sleep. I'm exhausted but I'm keeping myself awake because the two worst parts of the day are while trying to get to sleep and just after waking up.

Waking up is like when Eddie Izzard tries to start an oldskool petrol lawnmower. ONE nananana no. TWO nanananana don't think so. It takes ages before I don't feel like I'm battling through a fog. And stuff hurts, too, first thing in the morning. Ugh.

Falling asleep, though, is strange and worrying. There's a stage between waking and sleeping where you have not-quite-dreams, and while the night-long dreams are pretty much gone ~touches wood~ I still have weird ones when I'm trying to drift off.

The first hour of deciding I can't stay awake any longer invariably involves waking up with a jump at least three times because I'm dreaming that I can't breathe, or that I'm dying, or being chased, OR. And those are usually middle of the night dreams, so I don't get it. Oh, and for a bonus, this is the time of day when muscles go all twitchy. Resting: it's hard earned.

When I'm asleep, I usually stay there the whole night through now. But getting there, christafuckinglive, is a deeply unpleasant journey.

My health is weird.

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I am sick and tired of vertigo, and all the other stuff that keeps happening with it. I don't know how wise it is but I just want to feel better, so I've booked in to see an osteopath. They can try neck things and jaw things and repositioning things. So yes.

Fed up with this now. Need to not be broken.

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Dear Darryl Sutter, if it's not too much trouble, could you very kindly go fuck yourself with the business end of a rake? THANKS.
kerriesakura: (Default)

I'm in Manchester airport. One day early. I've had to go home early because I'm very sick and I just couldn't stay any longer.

Temperature, cough, muscle pain, stuffed-up feeling all present and correct. I walked up Becky's stairs this morning and by the top was out of breath. My chest hurts so much. It hurts to laugh and coughing is agony.

I've got a code number thing for tamiflu. Brilliant. Shouldn't technically be out and about (if the airport knew they'd probably throw a fit) but I need to get home.

And yes it was expensive but much worse than that, I feel really guilty for all the trouble I've caused everyone. Ugh. Breathing hurts. Just want to be home.

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Fuck me three ways to Manchester, can I interest you in A LIFE?
kerriesakura: (Default)
Well, shit. When I grow up, if this psychology thing doesn't work out, I'm gonna buy a bookshop, and I'm gonna be surly and rude to all the customers, and I'm not gonna brush my hair, and I'm gonna tease Bill Bailey about his hair, and sometimes The Actor Kevin Eldon will show up and scare the beejeebus out of everyone, and there'll be an impossibly pretty funny woman in the shop next door, and I will make wine for the Pope. IT'LL BE FAB.

So yes. I'm going to be Bernard Black.

This is a cautionary tale of a situation whereby you will end up going "BAH" and deciding you want to be a fictional bookshop owner. And the moral of it is: don't get too excited too soon.

So, a date, right? That's all good and exciting and I've never been on a real date and EEEE! So [ profile] karrotsoup calls me and asks for the gossip and I tell her; we were emailing on OK Cupid and this is his name and INSERT CARTOON SCREECHY BRAKES NOISE HERE.

Cuz Tracy is on OK Cupid too! And he'd been emailing her too! And he'd been odd and creepy! And cue the facepalm!

Which made me think again: I said I wanted to meet him in Benedicts, which is a restaurant and bar where I try to take everybody at least once (mental note: never taken Sarah there, do this next time she is over) because it's yummy and really nice and also in this case because it's in the city centre and always pretty busy, so I thought that'd be nice and safe.

Then he says, no I don't want to meet there, it'll make me nervous (whut). Erm, okay, where should we meet? In a bar, he says. Benedicts IS a bar but never mind, and he suggests Bar 12, which is fine but is somewhere off Botanic Avenue. I know Botanic Avenue because I'm there all the time, but I don't know where Bar 12 is and I'm a dick and just because somewhere looks dandy on googlemaps (I did look it up) it doesn't mean it IS okay. Why didn't I think of this last night? I don't know.

Now obviously it is my decision alone whether or not I want to go. But frankly I'd be seriously deluded to not take into account the thoughts of someone I've been friends with for ten years. But now I'm just a leeeetle uncomfortable with the fact he's been a bit erm to someone else and also with the not meeting in Benedicts thing. So...

Instinct always wins and mine's got the little alarm bell going off. I therefore do not have a date next Friday after all. So there's that.

It's a good thing I was in a good mood today so I'm not too upset. Mildly annoyed but only a little bit gutted.

Oh, and! Today I paid someone to touch me.

...I had a massage, pervbrain. XD

Neck and shoulder massage because stress brings on the shoulder pain. It was diviiiiine. So blissful it's almost an argument for the existence of heaven. If I don't sleep like a very relaxed log tonight, I don't think I ever will.

Right! Going to bed to read more of Anansi Boys, because Gaiman makes it all better.

PS I still hate the Penguins. Have not warmed to them in the slightest, about threw up when Crosby lifted the Cup. Oh fuck 'em, let them have their shiny thing. NEXT.
kerriesakura: (Default)
Do you know how to whistle? You just put your lips together nothing, the intent is there.


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Kerrie Sakura

July 2010

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