ZOoOt aLoRZ

Thiz weak eye half bin mhost-lee indulging inn bee-lidge-err-enss, itt haz bin gr8.

Like seriously though, I have. Once upon a time, a night out was just that, a night out. Then there was the advent of the two-day party. Then the 3 day party. All sans sommeil, et sans souci.

So on day 1, which we'll call WEDNEZDAIIYY, I attended a concert by renowned singer, aktor and stunt-man Adam Green. This was one of the best concerts I have ever been to. And like, I've been to 6,234 concerts. He glided onstage energetically, elegantly and intent on blowing our minds. He performed many classics from his cannon of super-hits, including your humble reporter's fave ditty, 'Morning After Midnight'. Padina Sunshine and I danced merrily to this. As did other pals there Ciaran, Gemma, Charlotte, Claire, Dave, Matt etc so many to mention!

This was the most intimate gig I've ever been to. I mean intimate in the sense that I probably physically manhandled Adam more than most girlfriends I've ever had, often acting as his 'pivot man' lifting him skyward for his crowd-surfing. Some songs I was hugging him and even got to sing a line into the mic with him. It was delightful. He is a tactile, charming and charismatic gent.

After, went hanging in Lavs for a bit then on to some student residence where we hung out in the toilets. There, I wounded myself by trying to climb into a locked cubicle 'over the top', cut hand, blood pishing everywhere, yet other less-easily reparable organs were spared the insult of being damaged in this pathetic charade. "A man of action!", no-one said.

Then, stunningly, Adam's guitarist Jon and keyboardist Omer turned up to party! With us! So we made our way to another house and hung out with them, two truly lovely guys, it was great!! Many photos document this on fphazzze-bouk, though for the life of me I don't know why I have such a crazed look in most of them, I was very happy, not maniacal !! Maybe special keep awake produkktzz explain the wild-eyed, wide-eyed zany stare. Or not !!

So after they left, we continued. But like all of Thursday. Consumption of special keeps 'er lit. Went to another gig that night. It featured new Belfast rock-rap thingy Team Fresh, many danced in crazed fashion as I sat alone on a stool at a table in the midst of said japes. I felt happy to be sitting, nodding like a 45 year old that was told to check out the latest hip trend by The Guardian or some other such publication.

Day 3 was the MET gang event, featuring Padina, Issy, Esteban Fuertes de la Fuenta and other notable luminaries, Maria, Rui and Trisha. I was DJ-man. And rampant Gin-abuser. It was like London in the 1700s, during the Gin Street era and the Gin Riots - mothers standing on babies heads!! Got wile pished and all my charm and kudos built up trickled away with the salty tears rolling down my cheeks... naw it wasn't like that really, had a lovely time and super partied to the maximum!

I reminisced with Stevo about my dearest friend Neal Anthony Cunningham and explained to him the concept of the NCWC - the Neal Cunningham Work Community. I told him the offices were on the wastelands in Carryduff in a disused freight container (that had been bizarrely abandoned there - it's like, nowhere near a port... wtf?!!!) and that we would endeavour to serve the community but turn out to be so inept we would be chased outta town, much like witches in the middle-ages. Stevo wept at the beauty of this tale. Then I told him about Santa Claus not being real too, cos I'm 'such a hoot'. A terrible man.

So aye, some snipets of a 3 day period of living. Is how I live living though? Feel I should do more, be more productive, more creative, tell all the details, not hold back ... maybe I'll write a novella or a pamphlet, like just to get started on this exorcising and recanting of this life. It could be illustrated and done like properly. I could buy paints. I could get that easel out of the roofspace. I could ask my ma to try to enrol me in art college again, like she did when I was 8 years old. My artistic career ended in one fell swoop by the sniggering receptionist that said "you need to be 18 and have A-Levels and a portfolio..." - WHY WOMAN, WHY?!! GOD-DAMMIT!



I could have been a star. Instead, I'm me.



---FIN---

Consciousness

I saw the film Un Prophete this eve (apologies for the missing accent, I cannae paste it in. Boo! But at least I know it's missing. The Academie Francaise (also missing its' accent for same reason) need not be alerted) and it inspired me to think of consciousness and what it can mean to us at different times.

Its an intriguing concept, as consciousness doesn't mean the same thing to us at different times. And lo, I hear the baying crowd say "like, no shit, like, mate, like"... Indeed it is somewhat self-evident pointing this out, yet I feel its an observation that I want to state. One can see how the mind is so magnificent, so adaptable and how we, possessors of said mind, also are adaptable enough to work both within and at times beyond its parameters. We have maleable minds.

The kind of consciousness I want to experience or need to experience whilst say, driving a car, is totally different from when, for example, I sit on a sofa with friends for many hours, laughing, drinking, being merry, generally high on life... Yet both co-exist within the one mind/body/vessel and both can function as and when I choose. But how far can one push more hedonistic behaviour until it impinges permanently on the requisite daily and necessary hum-drum functions? I don't know.

The gamate of feelings one can experience (both positive and negative), plus the things we put in our bodies, plus our knowledge, plus our life experiences, plus our conscious and unconscious urges, plus our personalities etc etc can seemingly all be dropped into the rather large melting pot that is our mind, then we give it a whirl and see what comes out... its amazing!!

In the film, the main protaganists way of 'succeeding' made me think of how I have used the afore-mentioned mixture to deal with things I've encountered and by-and-large, I seem to have done mostly alright, on an 'experiential' level (... if that is even a word *blushes*).

This is wile serious! Perhaps the equivalent of thinking out aloud going on here.... Need to reign it in... Or sleep on it and let an understanding develop of what I want to say.... schucks.

Adam Green - I shall see him play tomorrow. He is a gent that makes me wanna explore the minds' possibilities... a terrrr-billl mannn, yet multi-faceted like every other human being - should be a rather spiffing night. "ARUBA - JAMAICA - OOOOH I WANNA TAKE YA..."


off the Florida Quays....



"L'homme est la seule creature qui refuse d'etre ce qu'elle est" - Albert Camus



--- FIN ----

Padre Pio's Mit

So blogosphere, its been a while since this reporter has 'touched base' (to use the technical lingo) and in this piece of scrawl, or well what would be scrawl if t'were written by hand, dark ages stylee, you will find your narrator reflecting upon the mystery that was 2009 and looking with awe, wonderment and mostly deep confusion towards the foreboding (and already underway) 2010. Super mega!

2009 was quite the journey, and began as it ended, in the thralls of hyper-unemployability. Having just told the man 'to do one' beforehand in the now impossibly distant December 2008, I found myself free of the shackles that torture the mind and limit the scope of action for most of the populace. Oh, but what to do with all of this 'new-found time' - an abstract concept in itself. Why, go to Paris of course, for 2 weeks, decimating the last paycheck and knowing you'll live wondering where the next dime will materialise from after your return, but not caring as you value nourishment of t'mind over lining of t'pocket... How. Very. Noble.

Incredibly in these 2 weeks in Paris in January, some attempt was made to nourish the mind (3 cinema visits, gallery visits, a walk in a quartier I was hitherto unacquainted with) but as I know the place well from my 1.5 years of residence, the main focus was, as probably should be, seeing the people I hadn't seen well since my last visit, and making new friendships.

And lo, it was probz the best time of year to do so! Most young French people spend Xmas avec la famille in other parts of France and upon return to Paris, do get-togethers with mates that involve copious amounts of food, booze and funtimes - winner! Attended several such events, and sampled the delights of raclette and one-other-thing-that-uses-that-electric-cooking-device-but-I-can't-remember-what-its-called - why don't we cook cheese, meat and vegetables on an electric device on the table til the melt/are cooked then scoff it all, its delish, simple and a mega fantastico idea!

This party season lent itself kindly to my desire to let off steam following the trauma of working in a proper professional capacity, so much belligerence was attempted with my pals Gricha, Matthias, Joanne, Dimitri, Freddy etc, (sadly Yann was still in Brittany so didn't manage to see him), and new pals we met Etienne and Tom Bailey, twins from England but whose mum is French (cue "you look like Gary from the Cribs!" line from moi and chance meetings in Paris, which is quite difficult tbf) and Joanne's pals too... the Parisian streets were pounded, incredible experiences had and the alluring, seductive charms of possibility permeated every moment, ooh la la!

Upon return, the quest for coin forced my hand into attending the Salford Labour Exchange, one of the most terrifying places in the world. Had to go every two weeks, as is protocol, and look awkwardly at the carpet or walls, to avoid the glares of the scallies, who didn't seem to like my hipster ways, which is fair enough. This sustained me to May, ergo necessary evil.

Between which times, the final end game played out of my time in my delightful condo Krojo Towers, my residence. It had a balcony! It had a massive flatscreen TV! But more importantly it had Kryst and Mojo - Team Destroyer! And destroy we did, existence a maelstrom of concerts, nights out, random unplanned trips to Premier League games organised on the DAY OF THE GAME, like this:

Bolton ticket office - Bolton Wanderers ticket office, how can I help?

Kryst (hungover) - Can I have, ehhh, 2 tickets....... for todays game

B.W.F.C.- Er, yes sir, where would you like to sit?

Kryst - Um...... I dunno ..... one of the big stands along the side ...

(cue hysterical laughter from Krojo corp inhabitants.... lasts 30 seconds)

Kryst - Sorry, along the side. Oh, top tier.

(aside to Mojo - top floor, top drawer! More chuckles)

B.W.F.C. The Lofthouse Stand ok sir?

Kryst Aye, that'll do.

And so this was living, this was what we got. This and random daytrips to places like Newcastle ("I didn't realise it was so far away") and Leeds ("God I didn't realise it was so close!") This and seeing bands maybe about twice a week every week, took me up to May, by which point it became impossible to pay rent and forced me into the dreaded move home - oooh errr vicar!

So arrived back home beginning of May and oh my, how well did it start, what with two Morrissey gigs, one in Omagh, the other in Belfast, zing! Omagh was particularly spiffing, Big Red was tooled up and guided along the treacherous roads by moi with Stevo, wee Jamie Cosgrove and Seamy Shim-Bop towards our destination, a roadside bar/hotel near Omagh in anticipation of the gig in the Leisure Centre - incredible. At said show, the attendants were wearing shorts and t-shirts and there were actually people still using the leisure centre, swimming! Madness! As we left to go to the aftershow at Top of The Town, a passing, speeding car's window was screwed down and they shouted at us "Colenso!". I think they thought we were someone else... This later came to make sense.

Slinking into the summer months, I remember my familial trip to Killarney and little else (well I could if I tried, but I refuse to try). It was awesome! Surprisingly! Good food, nice hotels, and we even got dolled up and went to Ladies Day at the Horse Racing Track, it were ace!

The onset of Autumn, and all that sticks in the memory now is my epic gig tours - going to see the Cribs 3 times in 3 cities in a week (Dublin, Belfast, MCR) and to see Morrissey twice in two days in Leeds and Sheffield... A super autumn for Autistic Kris !!!

Then winter and "the terrrrrrrbill cowl of it all, yill get yurrr death in that sonny, we're all gonna die, get the mit" (said in voice of 94 year-old woman, inhabitant of THE KINGDOM OF MOURNE) and the party season. Though when is it not, he says! Schmaltzy!

And that was it 2009. So here we are on the other side, how is it shaping up? After 2 day NYE party and the following weekend's birthday celebration, it seems like it will be the year dubbed

"The Willful Destruction of Self and Others, a Greek Tragedy in 365 parts" by Kristos Higginovic...

Though what is 2010? These silly integers on a man-made scale are rather tiresome, n'est-ce pas?

---FIN---