Meat is Murder by The Smiths, the sound of a militant vegetarian getting increasingly angry with meat eaters. Often heard in my house around Christmas (as with all Smiths records), which is ironically the time of year we eat the most meat. Whoops.

Currently undergoing the disastrous return to normality following the celebrations of the week. Particularly suffering the withdrawal from my beautiful girlfriend after a lovely Boxing Day and 27th of December which was spent in the entrapment of our web of love. The early darkness of these winter evenings now creates a cocoon of isolation where it had previously created a calming clarity whilst in her prescence. Thoroughly overjoyed at the prospect of being within her company mid-week and also greeting the excitement of the new Gregorian year, within the trance conjured by her magnificence. Cliche though it may be, when with her i feel capable of anything.

My Christmas spirit has been re-ignited due to my reception of £80+ on top of my new best friend, a 160gb iPod. Clearly money cannot buy happiness, but it can buy alotta cool shit.

Doubtful.

One of the most idealistic scenes of Christmas was witnessed yesterday when driving through the town centre on the way to visit my Grandad. The few lonely souls scattered throughout the streets seem to be further endowed with a tragic nature on Christmas, as they are left alone to mourn their disgraceful circumstances.

It’s Christmas Eve, i literally just awoke. The only plausible outcome for today is to get drunk yes? There’s a lot to drink in this home of mine.

• Thoroughly enjoying the purchase of a Memo Pad for 18p recently, it’s fastly becoming my portable memory bank.
• I had a haircut today, and decided to go slightly shorter concerning my barnet. Fairly pleased with the results, i must admit.
• Ecstatic that i have not yet inherited the responsibility of full-scale Christmas shopping, hernia inducing gift buying in the name of the season of good will never be a subject in which i excel.

Not the most ideal build up to Christmas.

Absolutely adore the giant Christmas crossword in NME this week.

Back in the hot seat after a weekend of revelry. Also discovered to my dismay that upon my return to school i have a fairly substantial amount of work due in before we depart for Christmas, the season of goodwill has died. The journey to the Joiners on Saturday night was rather enjoyable, as i have previously stated, never before have i seen so many drunken teenagers cramped into a single space. Obvious antics ensued i can assure. I’d like to mention that both The 3rd League and The Harlequin were much better than i initially had assumed, dues paid. This was followed by a restless night, perhaps not stereotypically so. Sunday was a scenic day spent taking photographs with my darling whilst shrugging off a sleep deprivation hangover.

We now enter the last week of education before the winter break, snore bore.

It seems that climate change was not a mere fabrication, judging by the recent draft of cold weather lingering over Britain. Despite the horrific results the negative degree temperatures leave upon bare skin, i must admit my fondness for the cold. The condensing of breath not only acts as camouflage for the schoolyard cigarette but also adds an area of mystique to the dullest of humans. A personal favourite attribute of the less welcoming months of the year is the happy partnership of both the cold and the dark, the droning mass of the population are driven away into the comfort of their centrally heated homes, creating deserted streets and the isolation in which my thoughts relish.

Economically this foulest of winters can only prove magnificent, jokingly though it may have been mentioned by Charlie, it will no doubt provide the demise of a number of our aged population. Although not my area of expertise, i believe i am correct in saying that by having a larger amount of the general population in work or education, the resources of the government will only be granted more freedom. Wishing for death and snow then it seems this Christmas.

Back to school today, and with it back into reality after the daydream of half term. Waking up in the early hours of the morning has never been a particular interest of mine, the tiredness coming with it has induced me into a half awaken state, stumbling around in a bleary eyed manner. Not yet at the state where it brings me physical pain through headaches, i’m more at the stage of not being able to concentrate on tasks for more than around a minute or so.

It seems Upper Shirley High are determined to grind their pupils into a fine powder with the non-relenting flood of tiresome work being set, if anyone knows any more than i do as to how ‘Surface area effects the rate of Osmosis within Potato Chips’ and would like to share this information with me, it would be accepted with immense gratitude. Preferably before the 19th, that’s when the first draft of the coursework is due in. Couple this with the English Language retake i’m sitting next week, and it seems i have a fun build up to Christmas in the works. Dreading this exam after already achieving a B grade last year, not overly eager to go through another 4 hours of solid writing about poems written by people who clearly do not have a firm grasp on the language we’re being examined on.

It seems my personal life is hoping to wreck my ambitions regarding English grading, my non existing revision timetable being sabotaged by things that actually interest me, gigs for example. Little Comets foremostly, on thursday. Followed by Foals on Sunday, the day before the exam, if anything i’ve heard about the Foals live show is true, i’m sure i wont be in a fit physical state for writing an exam the following day. I can only hope.

Finally hit a stumbling block in my fledgling guitarism, it seems i have no promise when it comes to strumming in anything other than basic rhythms. Practice can only make perfect though, i just need to find the dedication to rehearse my techniques, my barely there techniques as they occur.

Two personal things which have struck me in the last few hours, firstly that i have no Tobacco and have taken to scraping away from the insides of my pouch like a crazed crack addict digging for fix. Secondly is that i’ve tried to begin noting down things of interest that may occur to me throughout the day in order to hopefully make this a better read, that’s the planned effect anyhow.

I’ve also generated a flourishing fascination for No Age, due to my companion that is the NME magazine. As the apparent grandfathers of the lo-fi scene which is really hitting full throttle and escaping it’s hometown of California into the mainstream, i’m intrigued to hear more of their music and will be doing exactly that. Watch this space.

Now onto one subject with has been neglected hugely considering the amount of my life it does make up, miss Charlie Tonks. I’m lonely but not yet alone now after spending the majority of my half term by her side, it’s horrific being so close to someone and then being torn apart without any formal warning, other than the time. Although it’s only been a day without her company i’m desperately waiting to be reunited with her as she (cliche alert) truly does brighten up my days. I always seem to feel much better throughout my whole entity when we meet.