Minds Music Monday – Space

This song has a similar personal feeling for me than Spaceface does. Almost like they fit hand in glove. Even with the similarities in title – Space/Spaceface. There’s also a line within Wonderful In Young Life that fits in with the theme that I find particularly poignant. “Surviving these changes in paces and faces in free wonder, free wonder, free wonder style.” 

For the two minutes I decided to try and sell my “art” as a kind of merch thing, selling prints, shirts and mugs, I titled my “business” Free Wonder Style. Paid for a web domain and everything. Feels another lifetime ago now. Hey ho. 

Anyway, I digress already and we’re barely under way!

Space always felt like a “letting go” song. It resonated most with me when the “limerence” was at its worst. When I felt that Jim wanted “no more”. The placement of that idea? That signal? That came wholly within my own mind. When you’re wanting something so much. Wanting to feel a connection that you wish for all the world is there but deep down, within your rational mind, you know it isn’t. It can’t ever be. It never was. 

“Imagination wears you out / crying brings you down again. The dream is over / the feeling’s gone / and we were something / you were dreaming all along.”

YOU WERE DREAMING ALL ALONG. 

Everything about the song. Each line. Each line would just be like….

But then I’d hole on to the uplifting bits. “I’m the star you see tonight / and I wish I may / I wish I might / be in your dreams tonight.” 

How many times I have been in bed at night, getting ready to settle down to sleep and I have silently mouthed a little chant of “please let me dream of him, please let me dream of him”.

I did it again last night! But he appeared. With the rest of the band. I couldn’t quite work out the scenario of the dream. I think I was allowed to go to see them rehearse somewhere. Cherisse greeted me in the dream. Let me in, showed me round. I bumped into Charlie. We had a brief chat but then he had to go off. As for Jim? Well, he was busy elsewhere, conducting interviews and what not. I saw him at the far end of one area within this kinda “complex” this dream was set in, but he was too far away from me to even say hello to or anything. 

My dreams generally have a huge smack of reality to them. 

It’s a song that I feel makes me come to terms with things. And I hate how ridiculous that makes me sound! The whole “limerence” thing. I don’t want it to be a “thing”, you know? 

Like I said in my previous post discussing limerence. I feel like I am an otherwise intelligent and rational person. And I fear my explanation of my own “limerence” is not clear enough. I feel like I have to explain myself over and over again. I am NOT so deluded as to want “romantic love” from Jim! It really isn’t that! I don’t want to “run off with him”! That’s fucking ridiculous! I’m not THAT absurd or that much of a fantasist! 

It really was just – friendship. A bond. I like you, and I hope you like me too. I just have been craving a closeness that just isn’t there. I have me and my small bunch of friends and well, Jim joked way back before Simple Minds got REALLY big that he had 8000 friends – or whatever astronomical figure it was then. And I know – rational hat on, that there are many people he’s known for years, all his life nearly. People he calls pals who he’d hardly have any contact with! So…who the fuck am I? What kind of fucking audacity have I got to wish for getting emails or letters or shite like that from him, eh? I mean, Jesus! It would be different if I had known him from when I was wee. Like, really known him outside of Minds and all that. Knew him as “Jim fae Prospecthill Circus” like, you know? But I don’t.

That “just a fan” status thing is hard to take. But it’s the cold, hard reality of it. It doesn’t stop it from sucking ass though!

Sometimes…just to stop it hurting sometimes, I initiate the whole “it’s his loss” talk. It doesn’t make it any less painful. And it really doesn’t apply. It cannae. I cannae make him give two shits. And it’s not fair on him that I try and enforce it, like. 

So, getting back to Space. It makes me comes to terms with what is. What the “status quo” is. Where the lay of the land is. But, it still has that hope in it! Goddamnit! Like all Simple Minds songs do. It’s like it says to me “I know what you want, but you cannae have it. But, you can have it in your dreams.”

Well, of course I can have it in my dreams. I can have anything in my dreams. And I’m not even gonna go into the dreams I can have. Oh, the dreams I can have! That would make for some colourful posts, I tell ya!

Spaceface is more the antithesis of Space. Spaceface is pure joy. My “happy place”, as I call it. Pure “hunner per cent” uplifting. It’s my number one “feel good” Simple Minds track. Whereas Space is…a lament. There are things I want that I can’t have and I have to accept that. But…it’s okay to dream. It’s okay to want those things. To desire them. To wish for them. But don’t let it consume you. And there are times…too many times it feels as if it has consumed me. It has overtaken everything and made me ill. Or it has been exacerbated by another element of mental illness and I used it erroneously as a coping mechanism against other aspects of combating episodes of mental illness. 

I still find it INCREDIBLY difficult to admit to and talk openly about my mental ill health. I don’t want to be seen as “mental” or “sick”. And I fear what people think of me – and it’s a vicious cycle because it is such an integral part of my ill health – that CONSTANT fear and concern of what people think of me and how I am perceived by others. But that is something I cannot alter. I cannot alter people’s perceptions of me. And in whatever way people perceive me, if it is an a way that is negative and it means they distance themselves from me – well, IT IS “their loss”. But the “people pleaser” in me continues to struggle to come to terms with that. Even though I accept and understand all the rationale behind it. You CAN’T have EVERYBODY like you! You just can’t. And nor should you want to. And Jim falls into that, you know?

It’s a whole jumbled up plethora of stuff.

Space is sometimes a very hard listen for me because of what the song symbolises to me.

When I am at my worst, mental health wise, I would cling on so much to the line “if you’re talking / I will listen”. Because sometimes it felt like Jim was listening to me. 

It still stings my eyes with tears just how much I used to feel that and how much I have held on to it. How tightly I have held onto that. 

It’s a long, slow letting go. I had been alone for so long. Before 2014 and Simple Minds mega fandom. So alone. Never imagined in a million years that Jim himself would make me feel welcome and part of the fold. It was a lighting of touch paper though. And such emotional sparks flew from within. 

An inferno that is slowly quelling to kindling. 

“The dream is over / party’s over.”

Star light. That light needs to shine from within.

Limerented Loz

I learned a new word yesterday. The word is limerence. Defined on Wikipedia as “a state of mind which results from romantic or non-romantic feelings for another person and typically includes obsessive thoughts and fantasies and a desire to form or maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one’s feelings reciprocated. Limerence can also be defined as an involuntary state of intense desire.”

Yay! My crap with Jim has a name! Lol.

Who knew it would take me this long to find it? The good news is – despite how I feel about it, I am definitely NOT alone in this feeling. Also…I really need to give myself a break about being caught up in this, because – BELIEVE ME – the words I have had with myself over the years about this. Knowing that I am an otherwise intelligent human being who understands and appreciates things with a good bit of rationale – this really does have no rationale or logic to it.

The logical side of your brain. The analytical part of it tells you that you know what you are doing is ultimately self-destructive, but the tiny bit of good that comes from it? It’s the thing that propels it forward. The hope. “Long live hope!” The tight clinging onto the things that felt good and made you feel good about yourself. It is ssoooo hard to let go of that! 

It’s almost as if the state of limerence ITSELF is the addiction. 

To be honest, the number of times I have seen traits of this in other women and have thought, “Oh, bless you! I feel for you. THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN TO ME.” Lol. I still do it.

Those fake Jim Kerr accounts that crop up time and again? Those accounts NEVER contact me. Because I don’t fall for them. I instantly block and report them. They know I won’t fall for it so they don’t even try. It has been quite a while since one of these accounts has started to follow me and tried to make direct contact. These days I usually make a rather sad joke about it – a very limerent joke. “Not even the fake Jims want to know me!” Such mirth! But all the women who “fall for it”? The women who befriend these fakes are all under the limerent spell too. Because they are all praying that one time….just one time it might well be the real Jim.

I have been aware of this thing for a long while now, my own limerence. Too long. And at first I felt I was too “together” to fall under the fate of it. Because while all that stuff is going on – while all the attention from Jim happened, it was so very easy to deflect it because you convince yourself that while you’re in it, if it comes to an end you’ll be fine. Nothing in this world is infinite. Nothing ever lasts forever. And even the things that seem like they do go through changes and alter over time. I really believed I’d be able to “enjoy it while it lasts”. You know?

Then when it ends. When there is, what feels like an abrupt finality to it, that’s when the true limerence kicks in. And before you know it, it consumes you. REALLY consumes you. And you continually question your ability to rationalise everything. Well, I did and still do. And no matter how much rationale or logic you apply to things, it is really, really hard to accept the unrequited. Even if you believe you will be able to handle it. That you know it is inevitable. The need. The desire. The hope. The despair. The longing. It overtakes the rationale. The logical. 

I was watching a YouTube video about it last night. A woman was discussing her own case of limerence. Questioning even if she was experiencing limerence – but knowing deep within that she was. She was in a state of limerence with a man. She had been wanting a relationship with this man for several years, and when he FINALLY reaches out to her and makes contact and asks to have a conversation with this woman – she tells him she’s not in the right state of mind at the moment and can he contact her again in a few days? He never calls back. 

The psychologist that was looking into it said “if the man had been interested, he’d have called back when you asked him to”. But, really? He could have just as easily been thinking “geez, this woman has been giving me these signals for YEARS, and when I finally get in contact she says ‘call me back’? What the fu…?” Or am I just continuing my own state of limerence there? Because that is how I was feeling when I heard that. I was like…”Wait up. You’d been hankering for this guy for HOW LONG? He calls you and you say “not right now. Call me back.” ARE YOU NUTS?! So…now she’s stuck. Just waiting. Not knowing how to let go. Waiting for this guy to show some interest again and just hoping. 

I definitely don’t want to be wasting my life away on something like that. Thankfully, I can feel a way out. I do at least have enough respect and self-worth (just enough) to not be consumed entirely by it. But I know others have been. On the surface they look as if they haven’t been, but from one who knows, they have. 

I STILL try to apply logic and rationale to my own state of limerence. “I just wish for friendship from Jim, not romantic love. I just miss ‘conversation’. And I miss the reciprocal’.” As much as I can delude myself about what I want, if he was to turn around suddenly and say “Larelle, I utterly fancy the pants off you. Run away with me?” What would I do, huh? Lol. I would hope I’d say, “Jim, have you been at the sherbet straws or what, pal?” Lol. I’d like to think I have enough rationale and logic in my brain left not to be swayed by my emotions. 

The state of limerence is ssooo addictive. As addictive as the person who is the object of the limerent “desire”. 

I can see how my own case went. And I think this is what I was talking about the other day when I was thinking about and discussing my handling of the breakdown of past relationships and how I came to terms with their ends quite easily. 

Full honesty card laid out on the table here? I worry about what March will bring. I worry about being back in Jim’s presence. I worry about being back at a Simple Minds gig and what it will do to me, in terms of falling back into a really deep state of limerence when right now I am seeing it for what it is and trying to work my way out of it. And most of all, I feel a complete dick for having to admit to ANY of that! 

I look at these walls in my room and … are they even the walls of a healthy person?

And it cycles round. “What must he think of me? Geez, I must look like a complete crackpot. No wonder he keeps his distance!” And on and on it goes. A loop. A big old endless, crazy loop. 

The notion he’ll even read this post. The notion that he would even visit this blog. It’s the limerence. You don’t want to look “crazy”…but you do. I just want to cry. All of it is ssooo ridiculous. 

It even has an alliterative ring to it – Limerent Larelle. Mad woman. Sad woman. 

Get a life!

It’s what I am trying to do.

Sunday Waffle – 28/11/2021 – Catfishing and Letting Go

I used to do this with the video blogs (aka vlogs) last year. There was a series of them and I ended up referring to them as the “Sunday Waffle” for, as the name suggests, I’d post the vlogs on a Sunday. Of course I would post other vlogs on the days inbetween too! But the Sunday vlogs tended to be the most “waffling” – on any subject. Not just Simple Minds based. 

I do have a personal blog but I haven’t used it for a long time. I just keep invested in the domain names for it. But something I want to talk about today *IS* Simple Minds related, but I’ll talk more about that shortly. 

Firstly I want to talk about the “off topic” subject of catfishing. This word started to be used more liberally in the early 2000s, after the release of a documentary about a woman “catfishing” a guy she was interested in. The connotation of catfishing in this first instance was that you deceive people into thinking you are living a life that is false. That you’re successful, you have money, you have children, etc, etc. It’s a very toxic thing and in that context should be taken as an absolutely abhorrent, deceitful thing to do to people. I would never do that myself! And I am not condoning anybody else doing that. 

Conversely, I will say that it isn’t black and white and people who feel compelled to do these kind of things deserve some level of compassion and understanding. Unless armed with the full details of individual cases, it’s very easy to judge and make assumptions.

More and more at the moment I see the term “catfishing” being used to describe women who use makeup to alter their appearance. I think the term is being used erroneously in this respect. The original use of “catfishing” had a far more deceptive and toxic definition to it than merely making yourself appear different and “better” in an aesthetic sense. 

It’s a reflection of the world we currently live in, one in which women deemed “ugly” use makeup to make themselves appear as they are not (supposedly). But this isn’t in any way a new thing! And women have been using makeup in some form or other for HUNDREDS of years.

Here is a case of “catfishing” that happened centuries ago. A well known case, if you know your history, esp. your history of Tudor England. And it goes right to the top of the monarchy. I daresay that EVERY PERSON in Tudor times would be deemed to have “catfished” under its current broad definition. Portraits made of the monarchy were deceitful. Nobody was ever portrayed as they actually were back then. 

Ever heard of the term “warts and all”? It was attributed as being used by Oliver Cromwell when he was having his portrait done. He is reputed as saying to commissioned artist Sir Peter Lely, “Mr Lely, I desire you would use all your skill to paint my picture truly like me, and not flatter me at all; but remark all these roughnesses, pimples, warts and everything as you see me, otherwise I will never pay a farthing for it.”

Back to the Tudor case of the catfisher being catfished. 

Henry VIII took MUCH liberty in how he was portrayed. Painted most times to look taller, thinner, more athletic, healthier, and more attractive than he actually was. At the time I am about to refer to, he is 49 years old. That is quite an age in Tudor times! And he’s had some hard and fast living by now. He is not going to be looking ANYTHING like Jonathan Rhys Meyers (who portrayed Henry in The Tudors television series made during the 2000s), okay?! (Meyers today is only 44 years old.)

Jane Seymour has passed away, and after a very, very, VERY brief time of grieving, Henry is on the lookout for wife number four. He is told of Anne of Cleves and is assured by his courtiers that they’re an exemplary match. Anne is a young maiden of 25 years of age. Henry’s already sensing doubt as to be 25 in Tudor times and unmarried – something has to be up with that, right? They show him a portrait of Anne. He is smitten! He cannot wait to meet her! He’s literally married himself off to her as soon as he sees her portrait. 

Come the day they meet face to face, Henry is outraged! As far as he is concerned, Anne is NOTHING LIKE the portrait he was shown and he makes it known quite emphatically what he thinks of Anne, referring to her as a “Flanders mare”. Nice one, Henry! Never mind what Anne must have thought seeing the sight of you for the first time, given the portraits she’d have seen of this unbelievably ageless, athletic, virile “studmuffin” when the reality was you’re a badly aging, gammied leg, portly hypocrite! And you probably haven’t had a bath in about 7 months on top of that!

Yes, it’s the monarchy and there was obviously more to it than that. The courtiers were making Anne look, particularly aesthetically (because they obviously knew that Henry likes a “hot chick”) attractive to Henry because they (and he)  wanted to secure a political and religious alliance between England and Protestant western Germany. 

In the monarchy then NOBODY married for love. Everybody was catfishing the heck out of everyone else. Powerplay. 

I despair that the word “catfishing” is being used to now make women feel and appear even MORE untrustworthy than they are currently being portrayed in the media. I have little sympathy for the men being “catfished”, if all their attraction to a woman is based entirely on her looks. Good! Get fucking catfished, you superficial asshat!

I know when meeting someone for the first time face to face our first impression is the way a person looks. It is, by nature, our first marker. We SEE someone first before we speak to them or anything else. But that is why anyone with a modicum of self-respect and decency would not just think, “She’s fit. Shagging her later.” And if it is what you think and you get your stomach turned by what you wake up to next to you the following morning – I don’t pity you. You are far more abhorrent than you THINK the person next to you is. 

So can we stop using “catfishing” to describe women who want to make themselves look more attractive? I wish we didn’t live in a world where this kind of stuff has to go on! Where women could actually feel like they deserve love no matter how they look. That people could see beyond the superficial and the aesthetic! I’m not saying we’re not allowed to appreciate those things. I mean, geez, how hypocritical is my blog, with all these pictures of Jim all over it?

Today’s “view from the bridge”.

Anyway, let us move on.

This is going to be a more personal aspect of today’s waffle. And it is Simple Minds related because it’s about Jim, and my “letting go” of this desire for friendship that has been churning away within me these past two years especially. 

There were two distinct markers of when this became something that became incredibly “all-consuming” within me – Jim sharing his dad’s cancer diagnosis with us, and my mum passing away. 

I am still very disappointed with myself for allowing myself to get so…dependent and needy. For holding on SSOO tightly to all the early (early in my fandom) interactivity that I had with Jim. That I SSOOO misconstrued what it was and how long it has taken me to “let go” of it. 

I need to talk about the past few days. Enrolling (still not confirmed yet as I have to do some initial part of the application process first before I can actually enrol in the course I want to study) in the Open University and my readiness to “fail better”. 

Last night I suddenly remembered that Jim had quoted the Beckett words in a post he did some time back. So I used the search feature on Facebook to see where and when. And there was part of me convinced he must have interacted with me on that post because I had such a strong recollection of him using the Beckett quote. I would usually only remember something like that if it felt it impacted on me directly. 

I find it. Posted to the SM page on July 11th, 2019. It’s a post about … well … failing, funnily enough. But Jim’s first own personal example was when he first felt “failure” in a major way, playing football as a young boy. Playing for the local Cubs and losing HUGELY to a rival team of, quote “hairy-legged” older boys. He then lists other perceived “failures”. Leaving school with no formal qualifications, being divorced twice, investments in failed businesses. And then things that are now not even seen as failures, but initially were – Simple Minds’ early releases not being commercially successful. I’ll link to the post HERE so you can read it all for yourself.

Then he asks us about our “failures”. 

At this point, before reading the comments, I was convinced he must have responded to me. Possibly one of the last times he ever did respond to me. I read the comments. I try to find mine first. I had left two. One was me asking for clarity on what he meant by “no qualifications”. Was he implying he left school without a single O Level? And, you won’t be surprised to hear that I waffled. And even apologised for “waffling”. Lol. Then there was my actual reply to his question about our failures. Or more accurately, our perceived failures. My reply was basically – “How long have you got, Jim? How long is a piece of string?”

There were no responses from him as I had imagined. Nothing, on either comment. Not even a Facebook “like” on either of them. Sometimes a “like” I would deem an acknowledgement from him that he had at least read the comment. Nothing. For either comment. No like. And certainly no reply comment. And it was at a time when he was still around. Many other comments received “likes”. 

What I do see in one of my comments is a response from people who I now have no dealings with. One person I had already had that cutting off with, but the other person I didn’t realise had any involvement with what the crux of the matter is, so I had naively responded to them not knowing any better at the time. Perhaps Jim saw that interaction and thought it best to avoid my comment altogether? Or…he just wasn’t interested in responding to me. Which would happen sometimes. But I would usually get a “like”.

But there was nothing for either of my comments. 

This morning I was thinking about “Jalopy”. It was one of the last “interactions” I ever had with Jim on Facebook. The final one being one I had to try and backtrack to and find via looking back through my blog. 

It’s been over a year now. The very last token piece of interaction I had with Jim via the Simple Minds Facebook page was a post he did about the release of Heart Of The Crowd – the book. He said he felt “misty eyed” and I had replied saying was he sure his “misty eyes” were from the book being released rather than the Scottish football team having just secured their entry into the Euros? He replied with a “They’ll be coming!” and a link to YouTube of The Tartan Army singing “We’ll Be Coming Down The Road”.

I can’t tell you how happy that made me! Well, I probably could. But this post is getting VERY long and I must get on with my point. Whatever my point is.

It’s this. I think I am FINALLY, slowly, coming to terms with not wanting to seek reaffirmation from Jim for every single damn half-decent thing I feel I do. There are actually not many things I feel I do well. Very few things at all! But I got ssoo caught up in wanting to impress him and wanting to keep this ever so deluded sense of a “bond”, of a “connection” – I lost myself. And I lost the ability to “let it go”.

I was also thinking about the story I shared about Rodney Johnston and the dog bite. Of my first “serious” relationship. Of my first and only “long-term” boyfriend. The memories of them are really, really strong. And although I am holding on to certain aspects of those relationships – I really did let them go quite successfully. 

I’ve never mentioned him by name before on here. I usually give him some coded name. But the guy I had my first “adult” relationship with was called Brendan McDonagh. It was a relationship I kept going in the hope it would turn into something else. For him all it ever was was sex. And sadly I was the instigator every single time. No self-worth, see? Convinced that if I kept sleeping with him he eventually would want to be with me. It wasn’t until I met my actual first and only “proper” boyfriend, Roger, did this very tenuous “relationship” with Brendan end. I didn’t miss him. I didn’t even think about him. I totally moved on. Roger became my focus. 

I don’t even know when I started thinking about Brendan again. Long after my breakup with Roger. It took me a long time to get over the breakup with Roger. But I was able to walk away in the end. I mean, there were complications. After a time, Roger and I were “seeing” each other again but it was short-lived. And I don’t really want to go into a lot of detail about that here. The point of it is – despite how it sounds typing this out – I could let them go. I could let these relationships go. 

I feel really disappointed in myself with just how much emphasis I have placed upon seeking all this reaffirmation from Jim. I feel sick from it. That I have felt so little of myself that I have spent the past two years just PRAYING for this man to like me, wanting him to interact with me, wanting him to make me feel like I was his friend, making me feel like I was “worthy”. I shouldn’t have to beg. And if I genuinely meant something to him…then I wouldn’t be needing to beg. 

It’s been the hardest these past two years. I think it’s because of mum passing away. I don’t think I knew what to do with my grief. And I think I didn’t feel like I needed to grieve? Like, I thought I was viewing her death rather pragmatically and came to terms with it very quickly. On the other hand there were things like Falling Leaves. Not remembering to tell my sister that mum wanted it played at her funeral, it slipping my mind and not remembering until the day after the funeral. 

I’m thinking about next year and my diploma and how much study it is going to take and how much focus I need. I need to start concentrating on me!

Next year is going to be a test. My course will start in February. Weeks later, I’ll be at a Simple Minds gig in Paris (all being well and good with international travel by then – I must admit, I have my reservations about getting to Paris even coming to fruition right now). And then a month after that, another bunch of Simple Minds gigs. Then another in June, and one final one in August. 

I admit to still grappling with the “he’s just a man” aspect of Jim. I really wish I could see him like that! But in some ways I think it is probably better that I don’t. That I see him as completely out of reach. Completely in another realm. 

It’s hard because…it’s those things – it’s the things that reveal that he is “just a man” that make me wish for the impossible. It’s the “ordinary” within the extraordinary. It’s him being just Jim. Just “the normal guy” that brings the yearning. 

But I shouldn’t need him to like me. And … he doesn’t have to like me. He doesn’t have to like me for my life to have meaning and importance. I know!!! That should be a REALLY EASY concept for me to master, right? But it hasn’t been. It really hasn’t been. And I am ssooo disappointed and perplexed with myself about that. Bordering on angry. But I have to be kind to myself! To heal. To overcome it. To conquer it. I need to be kind to me. To accept it. To say “Hey, it’s fine. You’ve been dealing with a lot of shit these past two years. And this man sparked up so much positivity in your life. It’s okay that you wished for an attachment that wasn’t there. That you desired a bond. We all hope to be liked. We’re social animals. Our ‘raison d’etre’ is to make bonds, friendships, and to love. And to want acceptance.”

I’m working on it. I’m working on not dwelling on it. I’m working on it not taking up so many hours of my day. And it’ll be hard because aspects of it keep me going. This is a case in point! Writing! The joy and catharsis I take in writing. And so much of it over the past five years has been either directly or indirectly involving Jim. He has sparked so much creativity in me! But that is what it is – a spark. And I need to be mindful to accept it as a spark. The catalyst. The spark- not the whole damn fire! Not the whole nuclear fusion! That the actual fire comes from within me! 

But, Jim. Thank you for the spark. 

Interesting that I should close this with the talk of a “spark” because when I was initially looking into study for next year, I was looking at doing a Creative Writing course at the Centre for Lifelong Learning at the University of Strathclyde. It was broken down into modules that were titled “Kindling”, “Ablaze” and “Inferno”. Jim has been an inferno for too long. Kindling. Back to kindling. The spark. 

A spark is enough. 

Lastly – this has been the earworm for the past few days, particularly as I awake in the morning. Make of it what you will…

Bowie’s Friend Who’s A Girl

A short piece in the latest edition of Uncut Magazine about Dana Gillespie and her new book.

They spoke to her early on in the MainMan podcast series, in which she pretty much described herself as David Bowie’s f*** buddy – well, I guess a bit more than that – but she was emphatic that she was NOT his “girlfriend”. Merely more a friend who just happened to be a girl. “And, sometimes we got a bit…horizontal.” Needs must. Lol

It actually sounded like from her telling of it, that they felt quite kindred and enjoyed a very artistic tete-a-tete. Her relationship with him was certainly vastly different to that of Hermione Farthingale. And it endured for far longer. They remained life-long friends.

Lucky Dana.

The Bitter End?

Oh, man. It stings again.

I don’t ever remember feeling this way before – or at least not for a very long time. A discussion of friends in his latest post and … it just has me wishing again. To be one. DEEMED one. (A friend.) You know…the more you want something. Lol

There are always these questions that start. “The people he feels closest to – Charlie, his ‘girlfriend’ (partner, missus, Other Half…whatever he seems most comfortable with acknowledging her as) – they have piqued his interest and kept him around for the longest time – HOW DO THEY DO IT?! WHAT’S THE SECRET? Honestly. I keep asking this. It’s a question I never dared air in public before today but I wonder…eternally! Is it really because neither of them are … “needy”? But then…doesn’t that make HIM the “needy” one?

I read an article once in which he said that he sends Charlie several emails a day and Charlie never replies. Lol – perhaps another one of Jim’s “embellishments”? Who knows?

The next thing I do is to wonder what happened. With me, personally. Did I bore him? Did I piss him off somewhere along the line? And when? What was it? I still keep account of it as some….affirmation that…it’s okay. He still likes me, I haven’t bored him. He’s not pissed off, etc, etc. April and “Jalopy”. Nothing since then. The odd ‘like’ to a comment. But even those don’t seem to be happening now.

I’ve even given up on posting to the FB visitor wall. There’d be interaction that would go on there too, for a time. But that soon died also. It’s how it all began, really. Hunter And The Hunted was posted there.

You know, the thing is…maybe *I’d* get bored. Lol. If there was somehow some interaction or correspondence with him on a regular basis. I might get bored. Lol. AS IF! I mean…THIS IS THE WHOLE POINT. I felt I had…SOMETHING. That we “talked” in a manner of speaking.

I loved those interactions SO MUCH. Just us having the odd Bowie talk or there’d be something about a SM song or some other piece of music. And it would be talked about between us. All public. I didn’t care! Just to feel like we were talking. It was wonderful.

And then I absolutely fell to pieces in July, 2018 – that whole “real fans” bollocks. I thought it was beyond repair. That he just HATED me and I was gutted. At least that was quick severance. Cut off the limb! Try to stem the flow of blood quickly and in time it’ll repair and heal.

But then it seemed okay. I was allowed back on SMO (as it was then) and then I had my meet and greet – and he joked with me! Well, I kept hoping it was a joke. In reality *I am the joke*.

I really wish I could pretend I don’t care. Or actually DIDN’T care! But if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this kind of shit out, would I?

The last time I remember feeling this way is…when I was around 16. I was keen on this guy and I just wanted him so bad. His sister lived across the road. (She was 7 or 8 years older than him so she was living with her boyfriend who was our neighbour so…B, we shall call him, lived several streets away. Still what was deemed to be in the same suburb – Busby). I asked my neighbour for the phone number to her old house so I could ring B. I was such a chicken. I only called once or twice. I never knew what to say. What was I going to say? “Hey, want to hang out?” Lol. It’s kind of what happened – when I felt brave enough to try. Of course he wasn’t interested! Lol. If he had been, I would have been swatting him off with a cricket bat. Lol

Two years down the track, I was still hankering for him. His brother was getting married. Mum and me were minding the neighbour’s young ones while she went to her brother’s wedding. B came back to her house early. He came over to our house to see how his nephews and nieces were. A ruse, I’m sure, looking back. Anyway…he was dressed nicely. He’d just come back from a wedding after all and to me nothing had changed in two years. He looked gorgeous. He smelled amazing. I was a goner.

Sadly, I thought it would mean we’d “hang out” now. I’d call him to see if he’d want to “hang out”. They just ended up “booty” calls in the end. To me it didn’t matter. It was SOMETHING. Anything to just…have a bit of time with him. It could have gone on for ssooo long. It went on far longer than it should have. Thankfully, after several months, I met Roger who saved me from this sad, pathetic thing I had with B. A genuine boyfriend who wanted to be with me properly. At least for a while anyway.

I’m not comparing Jim to B, per se. It’s a very different thing. I wanted to bone B (not that I am saying that I don’t want that with Jim. Lol. But I am a realist!). It’s all those emotions and feelings you confuse yourself with as a teen: love, lust, friendship, admiration, desire, infatuation. They all blur and blend and you hardly know what’s what. I really was naive enough to think once I had sex with B that I’d be his girlfriend and we’d be together. Silly girl! I had no one to really talk to about it. No friends of my own age. I couldn’t talk about it with mum. My one close friend at that point was B’s sister. I couldn’t talk to her! Although she was aware enough how keen on him I was. I couldn’t talk to my sister. She had just gotten married herself and was preoccupied with that. I didn’t feel as though I could talk to her about those kind of things.

God, it’s all such a lifetime ago. And it’s all still fresh in my mind like it was just a short time ago. I’m nearly 50, FFS! And I’m talking about stuff that happened to me at 18 like it was fucking yesterday! It’s ridiculous how much B comes to my thoughts. His sister was at mum’s funeral last year.

Jim made it all feel safe. Like…here is this man I absolutely fancy the pants off – but he’s my friend, and that’s enough. I love him and I’ll never have him. But he’s my friend and it’s enough.

But it’s gone. It just feels like it’s gone. I guess I never had it. Or I just kidded myself that I did. Allowed myself to believe it.

And I keep wondering what went wrong. What happened in March and then after April and “jalopy”.

So…to stop it hurting I say to myself “just think of him in 1982. Just throw all the stuff into that. All that desire and hankering. All the wishing and praying. All the lust. Throw it all there.”

And like Alice…I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole once more. I talk too much. And share too much. Cry too much. FUCKING MENOPAUSE! I’m trying to accept it is happening but…I am still that 18 year old girl. When the fuck did I arrive at 50?! A lifetime has gone but I don’t feel as if I’ve lived it.

In the meantime…I’ve kind of worked on “art”. Will probably become a new blog banner in a day or two.

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Chasing “The Hit” and The “All Time Low” That Follows

OMG! It is SUCH a drug! And I am such an addict! I know how stupid and pathetic it sounds but…perhaps it is all just link to all the good things I’ve felt in my life these past few years? It’s sad!

But, like tonight. I see him post and…I feel a high. “He’s posted! Yay! What’s he talking about? Oh, perhaps if I respond in the right way. Use the right phrase. Pick the right subject. Ask questions….He might respond. Oh, PLEASE let him reply to me!”

I KNOW!

And I try and just…I dunno. Respond quick. Try to think of SOMETHING that he might want to respond to.

My comment gets a like. “Yay! Okay, any minute now! Please reply, please reply, please reply. Talk to me, Jim. PLEASE?!”

Minutes tick by. Nothing.

Nope. Not going to happen.

“Has he replied to someone else?” Yep. “He hates me.”

“He’s bored of me.”

My euphoria of the initial posting then deflates.

I AM A DRUG ADDICT! HE IS MY HEROIN!

It’s terrible! Why am I like this? I actually want to cry that I am this pathetic and needy.

And I really shouldn’t talk about this openly. Confess publicly about how fucking pathetic I am. That I LITERALLY hang on the every word of this man.

Ridiculous!

Interactivity Central

Well, I have to say, there was an incredible amount of interactivity from Mr Kerr today on Facebook! It was lovely, albeit not really anything for me personally.

Perhaps my own grief was hitting me a lot harder than I imagined? Because…I’m just dealing with it now. Trying not to have it feel like “rejection”. Applying all the logical things I should do to help to “not take it personally” – I am just one fan in many – and JUST A FAN … just … a fan – to him. He can’t show any kind of favouritism (but to be honest, it didn’t seem to stop him years back, that one)…etc, etc.

But a few months back, it was REALLY hurting. But I think it really was just grief for mum making it feel much worse. I guess because of last time I was in Oz, she was alive, I was doing the art…all of that converged. Jim was wonderful to me.

I suppose I was just wanting to reach out – WAS reaching out…but he was going through his own grief. I naively hoped that maybe it would mean that…affinity…the kind of kinship I was feeling last time in Oz I hoped would return “when I needed him”.

I was feeling like…I dunno, like he HATED me. Hoping for something at the Scottish Music Awards. Mum had passed just days before, on Charlie’s birthday. I was hoping for just a look…something. I was up in the rafters anyway. He probably didn’t even know where I was. His da wasn’t long passed, either. Selfish of me.

I was okay out in Oz, surrounded by friends and family. In spite of the circumstances – and the adverse weather conditions when I was out there, it was good to be home. I felt horrendously displaced though. Every time I travelled towards the city and then back again to my sister’s or to Gwenda’s, and the train went through Liverpool station, it felt strange not to be getting off the train there. There would be this kind of questioning inner voice “why aren’t we stopping here? Aren’t we going to see mum?” Like the previous time back home, when I was with her and I kept waiting for David to call, or to just walk in through the door.

I don’t think the grief started to hit until I got back here to Glasgow…and I didn’t know what to do with it. I still don’t think I felt it. Because you’re not there. You’re not around physically to be impacted upon with the loss.

My sister had arranged an open coffin at the funeral. I found it really incredibly upsetting. I didn’t want my last memory of mum to be lying dead in a coffin! I didn’t even want to look, really, but with family around me and them all going in…what was I meant to do? I stood there. I stood by her but…I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t do things that my sister was doing…stroking her face, giving her a kiss. Her in the coffin was my first physical interaction (short of touching her) with her in over 3 years. I just don’t think I wanted that to be my end with her.

And it isn’t what David wanted me to experience with him. He implored me to stay here and not go back home to see him. It meant the last time I saw him was in 2007. And the last pictures I saw of him was when he still looked healthy – at his son’s wedding almost three years earlier. I didn’t see photos of how he looked in the months and weeks before he passed away. I never have. My memory of him is how he wished for it to be for me.

This is becoming maudlin central because – I wanted to explain that I am starting to…feel okay…and try not to give so many fucks, and learn not to “take it personally”.

I sound a fool, I know…but I adore this man. Jim felt like he gave me my life back…or at least made me feel like I could finally find purpose in why I was here. And…frigging hell…I had been searching for that for such a long time! Beyond the silly ogling and finding him physically attractive… He felt like…a saviour. I know! But it felt that profound.

So for a time there has been this…thing where…the interaction was amazing and I felt – most likely in a rather delusional way – an affinity, a kinship…call it what you will…just “liked” by Jim. And then things will die away and I would suddenly start thinking “oh, I’ve done something wrong. He’s pissed off. Oh, what have I done? Oh, why won’t he say anything to me?”

Oh, God! I sound so fucking paranoid! But…this is what happens.

By Copenhagen…yeah. Certain things happened to alleviate that feeling a little but others didn’t help. Not the band’s fault, heck! But…the cancelling of the soundcheck was a bummer. To be able to see the two shows was ssooo great! And I thought I got some interaction from Jim – that he poked his tongue out at me and later gave me a wink…but how do you ever know? He could be winking and poking his tongue out at someone behind me or beside me. The only time I know for sure about things is one-to-one interactions. Stage doors at Bridlington and Drury Lane – him talking to me from the stage at Bristol – the meet and greet at Colchester. Anything else is wishful thinking.

Yet…that look he gave me near the end of the Copenhagen gigs, I have no doubt was for me. Lol. Silly that I try to convince myself that positive things from him MUST be for someone else, yet negative things are DEFINITELY for me.

It feels like it has been hardest of all these past few months, so I am guessing it’s the grief for mum playing the biggest part. These feelings cycle round. They have done for years now.

I guess I’m never gonna stop wanting to be his friend, so while that hope remains ever present, this cycle will continue.

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Don’t Let’s Ask For The Moon – We Have The Stars

I know I shouldn’t say this. I shouldn’t share it here but…I WANT TO BE JAINE!

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Just…something so innocuous as seeing a film with him. I just wish. And for a TARDIS. For it to be then…as much as I would still want it to be now.

I can see the imagery in my head.

I fear that I probably will, in all brutal honesty, dream the rest of my life away.

It is just…above all else…that chance for the luxury of time with him. A chance to be away from the music. For it to be apart from the music…although it could STILL be about the music…just not SM. At least, not a gig. Experiencing a different gig, maybe – with him being viewer/attendee rather than performer/frontman…a film…a meal…a binge viewing of a TV series…an art exhibition…a hike, even! I’d bloody climb a mountain for him. Lol. Yeah, I’d go “off hiking” with him…

Just, time to be. A scenario that isn’t rushed. A scenario that allows me to be speechless. Lol. Because there is time for silence…rather than I am rendered speechless because the time is so precious that it makes me lost for words because I have a ton of things I want to say, but can’t say them all, and my mind gets in a muddle and I am put into a stupor.

Time to be relaxed with him…instead of some heady, silly school girl. Oh…I know it will never be. Only in my dreams.

And so, while Aix-Les-Bains is less than three weeks away, and I get my next chance to be in his presence…I shall think of the words delivered by Bette Davis in Now Voyager.