Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schitzophrenic & so am I...

I should have done this years ago! I should've done it before the life drained from my fingers and even the energy saving lightbulb in my brain that occasionally flickers with hope of an idea dusted over. I should have done it before I became consumed by cynicism and meh! I don't know why I didn't. I'm assuming it boils down to one of the following likely scenarios i) tardiness ii) procrastination iii) paranoia about the old quiz scenario iv) lack of inspirado and most likely a heady combination of the above...

So here is my blog. Just 29 and a year away from 30. Seems like as good a time as any to do something lasting and utterly retarded in keeping with my every being. I think I'll use it for self-assessment therapy, self-gratification, a word to the weary and the wise, an archive for holy misanthropy and most of all somewhere to moan.

I am woebotman. The captain of woe and all that sail on its not quite sturdy ship. A painter & decorator of ego's by trade. a self confessed 21st century schitzoid obsessed by songs & gossip, materialism and nonsense. I listen to music like it is going out of fashion (the irony being it is going out of fashion, well at least commercially), I live my life in songs...this is because I am a firm believer that whatever comes across your path in life, however shit or difficult, there is no doubt that someone somewhere will have sung and articulated that scenario in song a million times better than muggins or most people ever could, music is pain in any language. It is beautiful & frightening and so incredibly special it defines explanation. That you can travel through time and space with it only makes it even better..from Detroit to London to Africa in but three shuffles on your ipod.

What else is there to know about me. Well i'm lazy; its a terrible trait to have when you're as ambitious and frustrated as I am. I love Harry Nilsson - he speaks to me, I love lazing in my slightly rattle-y yellow four poster bed from ikea that I bought, I spend too much money on taxi's and I think too much about everything. I wish I could switch off my internal monologue sometimes...but, but, but I can't. Shit, Scheisse, Merd! Its just my cross to bear but it really does'nt martyr...