Supermarket - Aisle 1

clutching at strings
tied to worse than aluminium
sighing into empty ears
fumbling with/at electronics
an escort of bloodhounds could not
guide me through the pines
socially exceptionless, yet
calling off the hunt is the same
as dialling for takeaway
aluminium foil encasing hope
a small bag of onion salad
is the bulwark against this
this iconic oubliette
self-contained, throw away the keynote
speaker
dash their brains out on the running track
in love with pixels
your pixie avatar resembles
a fog-laden midnight
gas lamps and rippers
I yearn to stalk the cobbles
with my very best magnifying glass
ticking off the wanted posters
rounding corners with/out abandon/ing
principles forged in aluminium
titanic and recyclable
I have drunk from the same can twice before
yet thirst like a pug
is it true to manufacture desires
selling mass-production as home-made?
This is a home-made problem
of breathing problems and back-issues of the heart
an aluminium respiratory system
clean and cheap
this is the top of the range
no strings attached
the heart has a ring-pull instead
open with your fourth finger
metal has a taste
like blood

On Shaving

      "'Shaving the upper lip,' I remarked, 'is a curse which canaries and women have been spared.' [The canary] cocked its ear. 'Except, of course, certain aunts,' I added, evoking a squawk of alarm from the feathered f.
       'On the other hand,' I mused, fondling the bare ruined choir where once the sweet-briar sprang, 'you and they will never know the bliss of being freshly shaven.'"

Bonfiglioli, Kyril. The Great Mortdecai Moustache Mystery (1999). (St.Ives: Clays Ltd, 2002), pp.173

Putting the FUN in funeral

Tonight I am embarking on a holiday with Chloe Stapleton, Claire Sissons, Graham Pether, Tim Huzar and eventually Emma Turvey. We are going to catch a sleeper train up to Glasgow where, tomorrow morning, we shall eat a hearty breakfast and hopefully get a quick bit of quality time with Henry King. From then on it will be strictly business, as we walk from Glasgow along the West Highland Way to Fort William. At Fort William we shall bathe in luxury at a hostel before attempting to scale Ben Nevis, the mountain of heaven. The plan from then on will be to traverse the Great Glen Way to Inverness where we will purchase lots of rum and catch a sleeper train home. Hoorah!

Now, walking can be a perilous thing. My last attempted long distance walk, the Coast to Coast walk across through the Lake District, Yorkshire Dales and Yorkshire Moors saw me do something to my ankle and have to abandon my comrades after but a day's walking. The first photo depicts us before setting out.

This photo is me looking a bit sorry for myself at 90 degrees, resting behind an abandoned overgrown house with my ankle feeling like it had been kicked by a moose, whilst the others went to find a nearby campsite. The next day I was on the train back to Brighton (via Carlisle, eesh).

As Scotland is just more hardcore than England in most respects I am a bit more wary this time out. A swift perusal of a Ben Nevis safety website has left me thinking about what would happen should the worst come to pass. Namely, me falling off the side and ending. A couple of select episodes of Northern Exposure that we've watched recently have looked at life, ageing and dying, and so with the fragility of human life in mind I have decided to jot down some quick thoughts about how I'd like to be dealt with if I do happen to tumble to a horrible doom at some point over the next few days.

There are four key areas that need to be addressed:

My physical estate
This will be the easiest thing to take care of. A meeting shall be held between my family and my flatmates and they can divvy everything up. I imagine there'll be some arguments over who gets the Chuckle Brothers poster and the Madagascar promo cardboard box but they are all sensible people and should be able to thrash something out.

Disposal of the body
I'm not sure what sort of state my body will be in following this sort of demise. It would be nice to be buried so that my body can return usefully to nature. I'd quite like all my organs to be donated (including eyes) but I've not filled out a donor card. Hopefully the NHS can accept blogs as a form of consent. As an NHS employee with a sound mind I can assure any doctors that this is what I would like to happen. It would be nice to have a headstone somewhere also. With an epitaph. I can't really think of anything as good as Spike Milligan's right now, so I'd probably have to go for something like, "Don't end up like me, start writing your great piece of children's literature NOW." That's a bit glum, so most of the merry-making will have to take place at the service/wake.

Service/Wake
This is the most important bit really. First of all, everybody is invited. Second of all, there will be karaoke. Somebody needs to sing Bridge Over Troubled Water and somebody needs to sing Tie Me Kangaroo Down. There will be lots of drinking. It should be held in a pub; perhaps Northern Lights as it is my favourite pub currently, but if numbers threaten to be too much for it then a suitable alternative venue can be sort. I would like a band to play, preferably a really good one. If Philanthropy were to play a set of Electric Six covers that would be swell. Alternatively Frankie Solo, 2-Shay, The Sneaky Frog and the Scoundrel or the Red Diamond Dragon Club would also be deemed suitable. I would also quite like Paul Hawkins to sing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Miserables. That would bring people down to earth. Also I would like a team of artisans to construct an effigy of me to be used as a piñata, so that any unresolved anger issues can be addressed and that any kids present can get some sweets. (Unsure why that's been italicised).

Imagine Paul singing this. People may need to do a whip around in order to get the money for his plane ticket. It would be well worth it though. I realise that this is all becoming deeply narcissistic but then, I wouldn't be having anymore birthdays, so the potential total of time that would have been spent focusing on me needs to be condensed into one day. Overall, the feel of the day would be a bit like one of the Irish cop wakes in the Wire.

Intellectual Property
All bands that I am currently in must continue. Where necessary, suitable replacements can be utilised i.e Lois Huzar, Steve Kelly, Chris Butler
My Facebook account is to remain active, under the control of Tim Huzar. He may utilise it as he wishes.
Someone needs to write The Adventures of Captain Iguanadon. Mike Sykes would probably be my first choice, though anyone is welcome to the project. As long as it conveys a strong environmental message, tackles important polemics making them accessible to children and is a shit-hot read then I don't mind too much.

Steve Kelly needs to get his ass into gear and start filming Chasing Frames 2.

I think that's about it. Ultimately I'm probably not going to die over the next fortnight. It'll probably be just as well that I don't, as all of that narcissism would cost a lot of money.

Nick Cave

"But in the ordinary run of affairs how many people go out of their way to pass even five or ten minutes in a good deep cave completely cut off from the outside world and take the opportunity to hear themselves speak and really listen to themselves? It can come to seem strange that people pay good money to entertain or instruct themselves with drugs or sex or universities or even submit themselves to psychiatric counselling when they could just as well spend a few free minutes in the silence of an impressively tucked-away cave and experience this ordinary auditory apocalypse, discover themselves as never before."

Royle, Nicholas. Quilt. (Reading: Cox & Wyman Ltd, 2010), pp.30



Thanks Nick. I kind of wish you'd suggested that before I signed up to your MA. Although really, universities should function as caves to hold conversations in. It is interesting seeing how in this respect a cave could be seen as something enlightening whereas in other texts it is used as something quite the opposite (The Republic). There's an exciting ambivalence at play here. Perhaps I could write my dissertation on caves.

Who says the devil has all the tunes?

This is an epic tune of biblical proportions. I love seeing a crowd in raptures.

SmoothGay Love Song aka Justin Bieber Sex Tape

Just uncovered these lyrics in my bedroom, written by myself and Michael Sykes, which will no doubt feature on the upcoming SmoothGay album...

I think you're pretty swell
Just might mean we'll get on well
But I want to put it to the test
Get these feelings off my chest
So I'll leave a voicemail on the phone
Which doesn't express the love I own
I'll leave a box of chocolates out on the doorstep
I forgot my umbrella so I got pretty wet

So it rained
Like my pain
Just kept coming in floods of shame
I'm Noah without animals
I'm drowning
And I need a towel
You've got me speaking only in vowels

I like the way that you smile
I've been thinking about that for a while
As I construct my visage
Too worthy for any homage
I hope you're ready for what I can give
The heart must beat if we are to live
Like letters sentenced to commit
A lifelong intimacy incarnate

Love sustained
Amour is the name
And it protects me from disdain
I'm James Joyce forced to write sensibly
Digging myself a hole
With a paper trowel
You've got me speaking only in vowels

So I form this literate sponge
Into which all my love I do plunge
Are you ready for my glove?
I flutter with peace next to you like a dove
Because...
We had drunk quite a lot when we wrote that. Lord knows what musical accompaniment it had.

...as if you have a choice...

Light up, light up.

My good friend Michael Walsh has gotten me into some sticky situations in the past, but this one could potentially be the stickiest. He has managed to persuade me into taking part in the British 10k Run in London next Sunday, helping him represent his charity of choice, the Samson Centre; a voluntary initiative of the MS Therapy Group (Guildford) that aims to establish and maintain a day-centre dedicated to the treatment and support of Multiple Sclerosis in West Surrey.

There is no doubting the worthiness of the cause, but charity endurance trials are not my speciality. I have quite happily played in football tournaments, performed at gigs, baked a cake and hiked around the Surrey Hills in a dress and tights before, but the last time I tried anything truly strenuous I failed horribly. Last summer I entered a sponsored swim at the infamous Pells Pool in Lewes to raise money for the pool, the hospital and the football team. It is a nightmarish place; Olympic sized and fed from a freshwater stream, enabling it to be colder than the sea. I felt thoroughly sick after both times I went into it and managed a feeble 5 lengths in total. Fortunately a lot of people sponsored me lump sums rather than a fixed fee per length...

I'm not much of a long distance runner. At primary school I was nearly lapped in an 800m race, and it's not really gotten much better since then. As this run is under a fortnight away I decided it would be a good idea to start my training yesterday. A hearty evening jog down from my flat to the Marina, up to the end of the breakwater and then all the way back to the Palace Pier to finish. Dressed in t-shirt, shorts and my ragged astroturfs, it was going to be great.

Here is a brief summary of my initial thoughts from the early stages of the jog:

1. I need some actual running shoes, as these astroturfs are making my feet hurt
2. I need some new astroturfs
3. I'll have to wait a few months to buy them because...
4. I need to buy some new walking boots, a new sleeping bag and maybe a tent for August and those things cost crazy money!
5. I hope that's not a stitch...

It was a painful start, and I wasn't a particularly happy bunny by the time I reached Dukes Mound. Fortunately, as I came down from there towards the Volks railway station I happened to bump into Clare Silver and Emma Combes which was lovely as I haven't seen much of them for the last month or so. After a brief chat whilst jogging/dancing on the spot, I was back off and up onto the breakwater. This encounter was revitalising. It may be an idea to arrange for there to be some charming girls (or excitingly dressed boys) stationed along the route, perhaps a couple every kilometre, in order to give me much needed morale boosts. If this could happen I would be extremely grateful.

The breakwater is awesome, especially when sunny. I wonder how the fishers would feel about people going up there, taking up valuable space for just sitting, reading and eating cookies? That is a project for another sunny evening no doubt.

As I set off back the way I had come I became more conscious of my heavy breathing and sweating. I could honestly not tell if I was sweating or crying, such was the volume of moisture trickling down from the corners of my eyes. We McIntosh are a moist bunch unfortunately. I feel guilty for ridiculing Ivan Ljubicic for wearing his headband now, and am considering utilising one myself.

Eventually I made it to the Pier, having been in perpetual motion the whole way which I was fairly proud of. As I walked back to the flat with the summer rays fading across the sea, I felt as I had felt on the first day I moved to Brighton. The feeling of relaxation, the sense of casual occasion, of extended holiday. It was back and it felt good. Endorphins are lovely things.

Upon getting home more sweat than man and consulting one of the myriad maps in our living room, I discovered that my route had only constituted 5k. I would have to do that distance twice over, back to back, in one go. Arghghghghghghgh.

More training sessions are required. I will hopefully be able to persuade some to come get joggy wid it on Friday evening before I head up to Nottingham on Saturday for Michael Walsh's birthday. He told me to watch The Hangover again before I head north. I am apprehensive. I hope he doesn't plan to put things in everyone's drinks.

In the meantime, it would be great if you would consider donating some money towards the project. You can donate money to the cause via my justgiving page: http://www.justgiving.com/james-mcintosh11one/

Please be generous :) xxx