The view from my head in my bed where I think
Today’s post is gonna be weird. I couldn’t decide what I was going to write. Then I decided to continue a thought process that’s been being explored in an e-mail conversation with the Sea Witch. That conversation was all about (partly) how much I over-analyse things, and the paranoia and mindfuddlement that stems from that.
I’ve decided recently (as you may have noticed) that I wanted to improve the visual nature of my blog. This entailed a promise to myself to make sure there was an image/video at the head of each post, at the very least. Something to break up the huge swathes of writing I’m normally built on. This has made me happier with my blog, even though my posting is still so intermittent.
Anyway, I a;sp recently acquired (ahem) a rather poor quality digital camera. So i can now take pictures albeit slightly low res washed out ones (though the wash is partly the beautiful sunny day’s fault).
As we can see above, I decided to illustrate my mindstate, the befuddlement and overanalysis that plagues myself (but also is it’s very foundation, surely?) by showing the view from my pillow (somewhat).
But then I ended up pootling around my room for fifteen minutes taking pictures of various nooks and crannies that I feel represent bits of me. Or at least might interest those of my long term followers who’ve been curious.
So here’s some bits and pieces of my personal space, with some thoughts and analysis attached.
First up, my ceiling, or rather it’s hanging. Which as you can see is a beautiful mess. Suspended in the air, I have created a cave of fabrics and icons. Above you can see the sunshine corner. Complete with a wooden sun, the Brian Wilson Smile Sun, some sunny fabric and (though you can’t really make it out, the head of a dalek. It’s a pretty mess. Which I like, as you can imagine. Unsurprisingly, these hangings make me feel at home. I hated this room when it was all white walls, and now it is busy and exciting and random and strange, I am happy in it.
Like my life. Though this need for chaos may be part of the problem.
But let us move on.
Bradley’s Nest, with fairy, web and tie.
The opposite corner to the sun corner is a darker, more erratic affair, but it contains a link to the past. Bradley has been a close friend since I was a in my teens. Which is a bit of an odd time. If I remember right, my mum bought him for me as a good luck charm for my GCSE exams. I didn’t bring him along to any of them, but by Sixth form he ended up in the common room at school. Eventually, when I got named prefect but decided I actually wanted to spend my lunchtimes getting stoned, I gave him my ‘badge of office’ and told the head of sixth form to speak to him if he had any problems with my performance. Bradley was a terrible prefect, but he got me out of trouble, somehow. I think certain authority figures have no idea how to deal with me when I’m in irreverent insane rebellious mania mode.
The Fairy has ties to Brighton. It’s a shirt I saw when i first visited the town, but felt uncomfortable buying as it was clearly lady clothes (this was long before my gender identity started liquifying, or at least before the dam had been opened). I loved it though, so when I heard Fat Mark (not her real name) was visiting Brighton, I demanded she buy it for me. She did, despite thinking it was horrible. I’ve only worn it once as it is a million sizes too small for me, but I try to have it on display in every room I live in.
Looking down from my window, those are my wind chimes
Except they aren’t my wind chimes, as I don’t have wind chimes. I want some wind chimes, but I’m really picky about the tones I like in them.
This is my tree which I love. I picked my bedroom, which is the smallest in the house, because of this tree. Looking out my window makes me happy. Thank you tree.
Eucalyptus trees will grow and grow until they fall over. This may be analogous to some of my personal weaknesses and problems.
This is what I see when I see about you (kinda)
My workspace, without the surrounding mess. There’s nothing psychologically interesting here, apart from the horrific Bacon in the background. I have lots of Bacon on my walls (Francis, obv) because he disturbs, fascinates and excites me in equal measures. That’s a tricky achievement, I think.
Strange images. Pieces of my mind, on my wall.
This is the wall I stare at most often, so this is the one with the most pictures and things on. There’s not really a quality control on it, some choices are fairly random (lopsided picture of gorilla eating banana for example). There’s a leaf heart in the middle that I forget who gave to me, and that makes me so sad. For someone to pick out a leaf that looked like a heart, to single out me to recieve that heart, and for me to then forget who it is, shows that I am a self centred, arrogant and inconsiderate horror of a person.
Three more bacons, two of which appear to be staring each other down. Which I love.
To the left we see three pictures of me and my passed on friend Will. We had both taken lots of handpicked mushrooms, and were twisted, but what is shown here is a little three stage tale of unspoken, simple love. I light his cigarette, and we enjoy in each other a sweet moment. I love Will and miss him forever, and those pictures with me shorn of most of my hair, never fail to make me delight in memories of him.
We have two genderqueer images, left and right. A portrait of a dragged up James Bidgood from the Matmos Homo-portrait album (their words, not mine) ‘The Rose has teeth in the Mouth of a Beast’, and a painting of desire of the endless, a horrible character with no gender, here being a very beautiful kind of ungendered sexy.
Two pictures by Rebecca Clements, one mashing up Bacon and Marnie Stern, one that is just the most beautiful thing on my walls, a tree bird flowering onto a gorgeous purple background. There’s a better image of the Treenix here. I adore it and cherish it for it is beautiful.
The two large images at the top strike me with utter beauty and are special, but I can’t remember who either of them are by. They are both cut from newspapers. The one on the right in particular often leaves me gobsmacked, despite having seen it everyday since forever.
At the top, invisible, is a list of positions in the new Tai Chi form I am learning. I am rubbish at it, but I recently crossed a threshold that means I have hopes for the future. I made the realisation that the new form is different from the old form, and that made things click somewhat. This is not as stupid as it sounds. Honest.
I have more stuff than I could ever need. I try to use it often.
Just in case anyone thought my room was tidy and in harmony, I must point out that relatively speaking, it is at the moment. But it still has a corner of it that is this crowded with stuff and nonsense. Books, CDs, records, DVDs, letter, notepads, my I Ching oracle, an accordian, Go peices, a beer (vintage), some comics, a glove and a painting fill huge amounts of space. This is all important and must be to hand at any time (yet rarely get’s touched. Oh, and that’s my record deck, or one of them at least.
More (unusual) clutter
There is an old abandoned fireplace in one side of my room. It is one of my bedside tables (in effect). Amongst other things, hear we have, my melodica (new and shiny) my hair collection (several different people’s hair) and my ‘trophies’. The stone spring affair is my favourite. It was a present from a much loved friend from my first year at Uni, the beautiful Bliu one (who I must try and get in touch with again), she gave me this small weird and ramshackle sculpture because she knew how much I liked the tree spirits in Princess Mononoke. This was her attempt to make one for me. It is beautiful, despite it’s not coming out anywhere near how she planned.
Me bursting out of my decks. Pic courtesy of Isadora of the Half Sisters
At this point we approach narcissism, as I reveal the outside of my bedroom door. In order to make it clear that this room is mine, it has lots of pictures of me on it. Most drawn by people other than me. This first one is the most recent one to go up. I love it already. It was a hastily scrawled image of me dancing behind my decks at the gig I did last Sunday. This was the best DJ set I’ve done in a while, despite technical difficulties. This image captures something of the way I project myself outwards from my musical tastes. And also demonstrates that my head is massive. And that I love to perform. And that I am quite monstrous really.
So it’s a good picture, even just in terms of transmission of ideas.
Like I say, I love it.
Apparently, even at a very young age, I looked a bit like a serial killer.
Due to a hatred of form filling out, this is still the photo in my most up to date passport. I need to get that sorted, as currently I can’t leave the country. Which is dreadful. Isn’t this cute. This was taken at age eleven. It was in preparation for my first and only trip to America. It was raining, so I had a hood up on the way to the booth, but I didn’t notice the ludicrous hood hair. It has since caused much embarrasment, though now I wear it as a badge of identity. Laugh at my weird young ways. I say. Apparently.
Ink and Tipp ex Me by Significex
Tranisition into digital form hasn’t done much for this picture, but in real life it looks incredibly like me, and is beautiful. I have many reasons to thank Significex. This picture is one of them, as it is wonderful. Again, it captures my ‘ebullient’ (in quotes because it’s a polite way of saying obnoxious, at least in this case) nature brilliantly.
Another spot on representation of the author.
At work I interact with a lot of children and young people. The way I generally get them on side is by deprecating myself and letting them take the piss out of me. This almost always seems to work, and allows me to talk with them as equals. It’s a quick way of getting trust, but it means I lose my authority quickly. This is good, as I’m not a fan of authority. This was drawn by a nine year old who was taking the piss out of me the whole time. I told her I loved it. I did love it, and I still do.
Art, Untitled, by Me
I have little to no artistic ability, but I enjoy doing what I can do, which is doodling and colouring and creating textures. I guess I could claim an experimental mind set, but really I just don’t know what the rules are so I just enjoy myself. When I do make something, I often love it, despite it’s difficulties. I love this, for example, hence it being a badge of my identity, along with the superior images of me presented above. I love this weird collage of textures and collage. Ink and water colour and crayon mashed together, the cut and ripped and taped together. It gives me satisfaction whenever I see it, though i doubt anyone else sees what I says. Which is true of everything and everyone, of course.
That’s enough for me.
One last shot. I want to go into depth about this, but what I have to say here might actually be interesting so I’m going to save it for a seperate post all it’s own. On the left we have a Lichtenstein painting, with the Pianist thinking ‘Although he holds his brush and palette in his hands, I know his heart is always with me!’. On the right we have the extant pieces of a Manet painting showing an execution. For multiple reasons, these paintings fascinate and bewilder me.
I’ll leave you to guess my reasonings, and will hopefully remember to fill you in on them soon. (Feel free to poke me if I don’t).
So that’s a whistlestop tour of my bedroom and it’s coverings. I missed out some photos I decided were even more boring than those above. I hope this has enlightened or entertained you at least mildly. Anyone want to make some assessments of my personality and brain on the basis of what I’ve shown you? Or just point out that I started out with a plan to write an interesting post, and somewhere along the way it became intensely boring?
Answers on a postcard, or in that little white box down below.