...a fragment of fiction...

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…It’s like, you know those glossy pages in fashion magazines, imagine if everyone looked like that all the time, it’d be awful, I mean, I’ve got nothing against those that do, and hey, those moments come and go; sometimes I’ll get my hair just right and have that nonchalant, casually coiffed look going just right too, but then I’ll move just a fraction, the mirror will crack and all those wonderful imperfections will come flooding back as I turn back to the real world…who was it that said perfection was cool anyway… 

…it’s just a group of sounds tied together, someone playing an instrument, perhaps a voice or two, yet it moves me more than anything, and it pains me that some people don’t know what it is to truly be in love with some silly little piece of music so much that it hurts…

http://vimeo.com/2094462

…all I’ve got are snapshots, some hazy pictures and casual words, but I’ve felt more for these fleeting moments than I have for anything else in a long, long time; it’s that funny feeling in your stomach, being happy, scared and excited all at the same time but not knowing why; all I’ve got are these outlines, someday to be filled?…

…the burning sun filters down through the branches and leaves, twisting and turning a lush green, sometimes darting through spaces and illuminating little flecks upon my face, its summertime and the living’s easy…

…would we still be friends had we met now? the guys will always be mates; the pictures might be out of focus but we don’t worry cause the memories are clear, for others though there’s a burgeoning feeling of apathy, I guess it’s called growing up, but it’s sad, instead of clinging on, they just fade away…

…a change of location brings a change of heart, the newness is off-putting and the cleanliness and wealth distorts what used to be so easy; we have grown apart despite coming closer together, the departure from that old house which I knew so well is telling, as some meetings between us are strained and communications broken…

…there is a look, a look shared by those who’ve known one another, which underpins these drinks at Andy’s; a fleeting glance, an awkward smile, a longing stare, all directed at one girl, but from a few different directions, the conversation between Ant and myself is interrupted each time we remember the times we shared with her, but we choose to ignore these instants, instead focussing on our friendship and our silent dislike of the hands all over her…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFrNsSnk8GM

…I’m transported to the sepia New York captured in films; the decadence, the magic, the glory…but the picture begins to fade, is this mine or is it the American dream? Suddenly blurry, the romance is gone and the harsh reality of life becomes far nearer in the flicker of an eyelid, I wake, NY is killing me…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7c3wRzUUjs