Depressi-On the waterfront (Puns!)

Good day Starks and Baratheons.
Urgh.
Another one right?
I apologise...profusely. But I've had a fortnight that can only be described, as Thomas Jefferson would put it, as 'BLARGHHHH'., so I figure writing it down might help.
Good news and bad news then, let's start with the bad news. Because I am a Michael Haneke movie. If you get that joke then you're probably from my sixth form film studies group. (Nepotism innit)

The bad news is I'm having a lot of difficulty finding a counselor or a therapist to continue my CBT and therapy with. (Yaaaaaay.)
The NHS system near me is a bit naff and it's not as 'readily available' as University was (That said it still took me a year and a half to actually see somebody... although that's probably because A lotta folk be crazy yall')
I decided to do some self CBT at home, just to work out some stuff, although it's not as effective unless you have somebody to talk it out with, and point you in the right direction or give you feedback.
Anyhoo, I wrote down a list of my pros and cons. Now, this wasn't just base assumed stuff, it's all based on evidence and association and past experiences and whatnot.
I had 3 pros and around 16 cons....that was nice.
The cons ranged from "I'm not as good a musician or writer as I'd like to be", to my personal favourite "I'm not somebody who anyone would want to be involved with or close to" (Yaaaaaaay)
I figure if I'm saying all this to a stranger in a chair (Clipboard may or may not be involved), I shouldn't really have a problem telling people who know me right? (Some of you MAY have clipboards)


I had these for pros...

()I can make people laugh with stupid jokes.
()I know a lot about the movie 'Aliens'
()I can grow sideburns...



Potential employers love this stuff.

Because it's based on association, CBT kind of works both ways.
For example, I can put

I can make people laugh and feel good; People have told me this, I've gotten this reaction.


But then, by extension I can follow it up with.

If I can make people laugh and feel good, then why have I been rejected a lot...yadda yadda yadda.

It's not 'feeling sorry for myself, whinge-a-thon' nonsense, it's a proper thing. Google it. Go now. Google it.
But yeah, it sort of works like that, although a lot less crudely than I've made it appear.

So it's a bit of a double edged sword, and I just need to find somebody professional who deals with nutty nutbars like myself to help me out more efficiently, as I've got a lot of stuff that's punching my brain like an angry Gypsy (Traveller).

Christ, this sounds like an X factor audition doesn't it? Sorry if I'm layering it on a bit thick, I'm not trying to be some Lifetime movie about abortion, or one of those books called 'Daddy No!!'. I'd feel odd if I sugar coated stuff or lied, cause lying is for wieners. And I am most certainly not aiming to be a wiener.
I'm fine writing this, I'm just worried that for people reading it'll be like Sophie's Choice or one of those really depressing channel 4 dramas. I'd hope it's not all misery and despair, I don't intend it to be.



After doing this I promptly read comics for 2 hours and listened to the Electric Light Orchestra....just thought that was a necessary add on.

I've also lost a really good friend in the past few months, which is kind of lame.I did  really some stupid things, felt genuinely terrible and guilty, tried to apologise and explain what depression's like for me, but instead they've cut all forms of contact with me and it's genuinely not improving my outlook on myself. The problem is, they genuinely think I'm some crazy pyscho Patrick Bateman mental case....which I'm not...at all. I'm not somebody to worry about. I'm not an 80s slasher movie villain, although if I was I would definitely have my 'holiday' as 'Teacher Education Days', and I'd wear a mask that was a replica of a blackboard. And I'd kill people with Chalk and Rulers and Protractors and....Microsoft Excel...related....explosions.
The logistics aren't important. I'm not a crazy mental case, I'm just somebody whose had some problems coping with this at times, especially before the ole prozac and counselling.
So, yeah unless a third party says 'You know...Pete isn't Captain Crazy of the USS mental case' then I'll have to sort of, cope with it ending on a really crappy note. I mean, I'd like to think I'm not somebody you'd need to worry about or be cautious of right?

Sorry that sounds really quite the unsubtle 'nudge nudge wink wink', and I know some of you will know what and who  I'm talking about, but I'm really just writing this down to vent and get it out there. I'm not trying to weasel or any other verb, just using this blog as a sounding board. (Text wise...although I do yell and whistle at the screen as I write this. OR DO I?! No. No I do not.)

The only similarity we have is our affinity for Huey Lewis and The News.

I kind of feel like writing all this down might be putting people off, as if it sounds like some highschooler going 'Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I'll go and eat some muuuuuuud!!!!'

It'll be lonely this Christmas due to.... cannibalism.



If Mr Metaphor leaves his house every day and is at some point attacked by Ninjas, then after a month of this he's going to think 'You know what...I don't want to leave my house, because I'll get a ninja star in the gullet'. And sure, everybody else gets a ninja star in the thigh every so often, but for Mr Metaphor it's happened constantly, without a break in the routine, or nunchuck-to-the-face free day.
So yeah, if I complain or act 'pessimistic' about something, it's not just me being a dick, it's because I've got plenty of ninja stars embedded in my stupid face.
Sure they'll be one or two days without ninja stars, but there's the other 28 of the month that dominate the ratio. Christ I sound like a patronizing fart don't I? I think I'm owed this, as somebody said I should just do like that song and 'Get knocked down, but get up again, nothing's gonna keep me down'.
Yes.
Somebody said I should cure my depression with ChumbaWumba lyrics....
There was no irony involved.

Some of it is just, doing stuff to get my self esteem back, Rocky 3 style. Things like job interviews or even a job, dates (Although you'd be better off eating dinner opposite a crude straw model with a face painted on, that yelled a pop culture reference every 10 minutes.), new hobbies, learning to drive. Stuff like that...All that jazz.
I'm also trying to find some open mic nights near me to do some stand up, but I'm not getting a lot of good hits or info, which is a bugger.

I get really uncomfortable and depressed when I'm around people talking about relationships or sex or basic social norms. Not in a desperate, crude 'American Pie' I WANT A RELAYSHUNSHIP WAAAA style nonsense. God no, I'm not a 16 year old Girl.
But it just reminds me I'm not a nice hip normal person, I'm somebody who can't even get anybody to want to go to the cinema with him on a date. (Feel free to call me lame and point and mope)
That's like a Sarlaac pit of crap.
And I feel bad, having to mope around people who are just talking about expected social norms.
Again, the problem with writing stuff like this, is that it comes across as a mopey 16 year old writing a diary entry before putting on a Slipknot T shirt and updating a livejournal with how they'd kill themselves.
I kind of hope folks can see it's...not that.
Seriously.
IT ISN'T.
I SWEAR!!


Here is the original VHS of 'Aliens'...just to lighten the mood.

I'm not just pulling this crap out of nowhere, or thinking it apropos of nothing. If I was then I'd say that I can fight a bear with brass knuckles, or that I'm Batman. I've got plenty of evidence and past experiences that, to me, reinforce all this. I'm not all that great or interesting. I'm funny but apart from that I'm just sort of....there. And even being funny isn't enough I've noticed. I am the other guy from Wham in life, I am Joe Pasquale's voice, I am not all that interesting or decent. I'm not somebody people miss or think about unless I'm in the room with them. I'm like a human Quiche....

And that's depression for you, it's a lot more than some 'Linkin Park' 16 year old diary entry nonsense. It really does suck. I used to have a hard time understanding what it entails, and even now I have moments where I think that maybe it's just me, that I'm some 'Y The Last Man' isolated vigilante
In retrospect I think university was about 75% crap.
Sorry that this post was a bit more bleak and down then usual, I genuinely am trying to not be a captain mopey of the Goodship mope on the seven seas of MNEERRRGHHH.
Stay tuned for more posts about music videos and pop culture hilarity.



Here's the good news.
I just had some fig rolls, and they were really nice.
Like...bloody delicious.


Food of the Olympians...

80s music video reviews: Ready For the World

Music videos, aren't they great? (Still open to debate...)
They've been around for a while, but it was the 80s when they harnessed their potential and made their mark on the world, just like cold war fever or telephones the size of a coffin.
I'll be taking you step by step through one of the more notable (In that I saw it the other day) videos of that era, the song 'Love you Down' by the band Ready For The World. An inoffensive archetypal RnB lurrrrve song that's like a Smartie; sure it's Ok enough...but there's hundreds more like it (and according to a year 4 rumour, the red ones give you diarrhea....this is still unconfirmed by the NHS).
It reached number 9 in the US in 1986 and the incredibly prestigious place of 60 on the British charts (A moment of solemn respect and admiration) before disappearing faster than an West End musical about Myra Hindley.



Look down at your feet. You are probably now wearing legwarmers because of this photo.

Let the unnecessary scrutiny begin!

The video begins with a Hitchcock-esque silhouette of a woman in front of a pair of curtains, perhaps the most SEXIEST image known to man? Who knows? If you stare at it too long her proportions and hair resemble an inaccurate rendition of how a woman would look by a blind Austrian making a doll out of a carved beetroot.

Suddenly, apropos of nothing the woman begins to laugh. What at though? We're left to ponder this quagmire of a mystery. Some possible suggestions.

• A crude limerick about a sexually frustrated sea captain
• When Del Boy falls through the bar.
• Insanity, caused by the pale orange blizzard of light that isolates her existence.
• An old man getting shit on by a formation of seagulls.

Before we have a chance to discover the source of her amusement, we're introduced to the lead singer (Check name later) and SHIT* GETS SEXY YALL.
*Metaphorical. That'd be gross.
The camera then zooms closer to her, will it go into her ear, like an arousing version of David Lynch's Blue Velvet intro?

HERE'S HOPING.

Appearing henceforth into our world, like a cosmic vision from the dark void of funk, we have our lead singer, surrounded by nothingness because he...is all we need (budgetary concerns).

Notice what appears to be a cross between a Jheri curl and a mullet? A Jullet, or a 'Merry Curl' as you would. If a Mullet is 'Business at the front, party at the back', than this is 'party all over the place...seedy, unsettling, substance abusing partying to the sound of a sinister ethereal slap bass solo'.

Needless to say, that hair is the pinnacle of follicle achievement and if you disagree then you need to call up the guiness book of records and demand a place, holding the record for most SEVERELY WRONG  HUMAN BEING on the planet.

And then the chorus kicks in, and a microphone tears through the very fabric of space and wills itself into existence, appearing in front of our lead singer through the magic of love (Not affiliated with 'The Power of Love').

Let me love you down,

Even if it takes all night.

I'm a bit...boggled by this. Can you love somebody down? I know you can love somebody 'up', as in 'I am loved up', but can love go in many directions like a boomerang or racial bias in the BNP?
Maybe this woman is so loved up, perhaps she is so used to fantastic lovers that she feels as if there is no zenith left, nowhere to go. Then this soulful white (not racially) knight appears and whispers 'Hey babe, why don't you take a break, and settle for something a bit more mediocre?'.
SAY YES WOMAN.
SAY YES DAMN YOU.

LET HIM LOVE YOU DOWN.
Downgrade your love like a devolved shanty town of emotion.
Unless he wants to physically throw this woman to the floor with 'love', which kind of sounds like a sexual assault charge...

Also, 'even if it takes all night' warrants a mention for completely missing the intended mark. I love the detached eye rolling attitude that 'even if it takes all night' conveys. It tries to seem seductive and passionate, but has the frustrated lack of denial and single minded anger of a single father trying to inflate a paddling pool to impress his kids.

(Please bear in mind, the last person I dated would that I were cast into a pit of fire, so please take my knowledge on 'love' with a Russian Oil tanker full of salt.)

Back to the verse, and the camera pans around this warehouse showing the only prop in the video...this large illuminated ...rectangle with various sections...
It's just there.
It doesn't do anything, or provide any obvious aesthetic purpose.
I don't even know what it is, it could just be some lazy placement, but I'd like to think it's a sentient lifeform. A malicious and cruel entity that demands Ready For The World perform for it, lest the galactic rectangle render them asunder.
PLAY A SLOW JAM FOR ME. THE RECTANGLE DEMANDS IT. PLAY LEST I CAST YOU INTO THE ICY VOID OF YOUR OWN FEARS.

Also, this line makes me chuckle.

Remember when I drove you home from work?

That's right, because nothing's sexier than CARPOOLING!

I don't like to imagine where those thumbs are going...

The rest of the band then appear, and here we have our bassist, bathed in the same orange light, giving him the appearance of a funky bronze statue. Like an idol outside a Greek Parthenon to the God of Slap Bass.

This guy drums.

That's all I have on that.

And the woman is back. Laughing arbitrarily at something and spraying herself with something (insert your own product placement here.) The room she's in reminds me of the tiled bathroom at a Waterpark I went to in Crete a few years ago. Based on this, I assume there are used bandages by her feet and a spider the size of a tangerine on the wall opposite her.

Like a well dressed interlude, the lead singer interjects once again. Reminding us that he still exists, and will continue to do so for the entire narrative of this music video.

He sings some more innocuously unoffensive lyrics about romance and all that malarkey.
Try and guess the odd one out.

All that really mattered was you're my girlfriend

You know it's got to be so right

Oh baby all night long.

They'll have to identify you with dental records.

(It's not as obvious as you may think)

And then we're back in this woman's bedroom, the camera descending from the rafters like a sexy pigeon.

And she's lying on her bed, presumably for sexy reasons and not food poisoning or gout.
And the bed is where the 'magic happens', as they say. Well, I know my bed is where the magic happens...because magic, doesn't exist. (Zing...?)
Because her bed isn't against a wall it's like she's lying on a table, or a sacrificial alter.
But that's just me.

But no time for sacrifices and blood tributes now, it's guitar solo time!

The guitarist silhouetted by the lead singers face, like a broken memory or a regretful past crime he can't escape from. He also kind of looks like the boss from a Metroid game, the behemoth funk head.

The woman wistfully plays with the curtains, and it's at this point I'm believing she may have dementia or be mentally ill.

That's all she does. Bat at the curtains like a bored cat, enthralled at the movement it creates. It's all she lives for, her lifeblood, her soul.

Curtains.

Curtains.

Curtains.

And we're done, full circle. The song fades out, as the giant hyper-rectangle of tolerance and obedience demands the chorus be repeated forevermore, like a solemn ever repeating SOS to the dark recesses of lonely space..

PLAY FOR ME

MAKE MUSIC FOR ME

READY FOR THE WORLD

LOVE ME DOWN

LOVE IS OBSOLETE

ALL YOU NEED IS HYPER-RECTANGLE
LET THE HYPER-RECTANGLE LOVE YOU DOWN.