Messtivals

I miss messy festivals and fields and mud and cows and boys in bands and tents and picnics so freakin' much.

Remember the Long Blondes?

I miss, part one

I miss sunshiney Pimms picnics on the castle tourist pit of a lawn, up by the sket hole that is BZR in Nottingham city centre.
I miss sharing a smile Nana Dawg as we smirked smugly at poor Wally, long before he lost himself in angular pretention. I remember the olives, the feta, the grease caught sneakily beneath the finger nails and the grimey sight of mediterranean herbs caught between your perfect teeth.
I miss the days of the haze. The warm pints of cider, sipped from crooked lips smeared with last night's lipstick and alcohol. I miss the days of the haze. The harsh discussions of literature, musicality, lyricism and film. European cinema was your forte baby, but I was, at the time, too vain to care, preferring instead the gossip surrounding my beloved Brooklyn boys, the bands and the bastards, the kisses and broken promises. I prefered the frosting to the sponge of your perfect non-birthday cake. You smothered your cheek bones with the moist sponge, whipped up for you in my frenzy of ever-ageing love and respect.

You're so worth my while. And baby girl, you always fucking will be.

Nowordofalie

I know I mustn't, shouldn't, couldn't, cannot, oughtn't, but I still miss your slitty little eyes and your pretentiousasfuck smirk as all the girls fall violently at your oversized, oversqeezed feet about the streets of Selly Oak.
It's a terrible thing to admit, but baby boy, it's too true for a gal like me to deny.
I miss you C J.
And I always will, it kills me, bit I will. I do.

Flashbakk, part two

Oh how I miss the days when I possessed the pins to strut about the cobbled streets of Liverpool in patent shoe boots and skin tight sweat-inducing snakeskin spiderswebbed pvc leggings.

Time for diet mtn dew to commence...

Clean Break

Shout out to my big bro, Sneckle.

Asiftosay,asiftosay,shedoesn'tlikechocolate

Are you hoping for a miracle?

Bestmatez

Nana Dawg sent me this earlier "because she thought of me". Sound track to my life or what?
Yeah baby girl, you know me insideandout. Uhhn.

Aww, baby girl

Just invited an old and beloved friend up to stay with me whenever, think she's much in need of some escapism from foggy London...

And I attempted to entice her by saying that I'm a good host. She whole heartedly agreed, reminding me that I'm a bloody good host, I hand out drunken mini milks and everything.

Come stay with me ladies, fellas!

Cringin', Number One

Major flashback. I love this song, though it's totally shameful to admit. Also, my first boyfriend was obsessed with this guy. Cannot believe I lost my virginity to that motherfucker. Gross, innit.

Hi, my name is...

Stereo Mike.

Soundtrackofthedayrighttherebitch.please.
Reminds us of being a kid and summer and early glugs of warm, stale beer on the skate park.

Flashbakk

Always forget how much these tracks move me. My, my.

Ginan'Juice

Too fly.

Rat.tat.tat

Chronic nostalgia.

Bitches ain't shit but hoes and trickz

Dirty boy flash back. Bitch cain't hang witt the streets.

Belong

Despite a fair amount of time's break from producing and publicizing their music, New York mess-heads, Bear Hands, have once again made some really under-rated, under-recognized tracks that I'm all of a sudden, wildly in love with.
The Old Maid and I met them a couple of years back, and were met with pizza and sly passes despite having boyfriends. Though this was hilarious, and the gig tremendously head-bangin', they have never been met with a great deal of positive criticism that I feel they deserve.
Come back to the UK babies, I miss you, and could totally hook you up with some ketamine this time...