Wednesday, 23 December 2009

Wednesday 23/12/09

This Christmas we want more:

Christmas movies, surfing holidays, blue-eyed boys, skinny girls who like fashion, Jack Johnson songs, nihilistic novels, ice cream from Scoop, Yelle concerts, cats like Scott's cat Shadowfax, “bi/curious” rugby players in the world, deck shoes, drives with Scott, QI repeats, stubble on my face

Thursday, 17 December 2009

Thursday 17/12/09

If you've just bought a book and read it (whether finished it all or left it halfway), but you thought very little of it and the author, in fact a) you wish you hadn't wasted your time in the first place and b) you keep wondering how such a talentless bore as him got published at you put it on your bookshelves to keep or do you throw it in the bin? Note: you have VERY extensive empty bookshelves

Sunday, 13 December 2009

Sunday 13/12/09

There is a lot of competition for sure, but I decided long ago that that three saddest words in the English language are, “don’t let go”.

It first dawned on me when I read them in that scene in Bright Lights Big City where the main character’s Mother uses them, and since then I’ve been unable to find a situation where these words can be said, that’s not associated with despair, fear, anguish, neediness. Maybe I’m not thinking hard enough; maybe I’m thinking too much. I just can’t see what good can come if anyone, anywhere, at any point actually lets go.

This is a song that uses “don’t let go” as the driving force of its chorus. Frankly, it’s immense. The words, the music, the guy’s voice, everything.

I can’t remember the last time I liked a song from a new band so much. Right at this point, and I know I’ll regret this, I’m drawing insane parallels between this and Depeche Mode and, sorry, The Smiths. I listened to it on my iPod walking around the city last night and it was freezing cold and it was around midnight and there was a river there, and it took all the strength that I had not jump right in, because life just couldn’t get any better. Or worse. I’m not sure which.

In any case, HURTS (or is it hurts?) is my favourite new band at the moment, based on this one song. They haven’t actually released anything yet, they will do in the new year, but until then I have this to rest all my hopes on.

Am I building myself up for disappointment? Will this only end in tears? Am I opening myself up only to be left broken, shattered, alone? Probably. I don't care. Let me be destroyed.

Oh. And I fancy the guy that plays the keyboard.

Friday, 4 December 2009

Friday 04/12/09

I know I've done this before, but it was years ago. Could you do me a favour and leave a comment with the city / country where you're reading this from? Just that, nothing else. I'd find it very interesting, thank you.

The comments are open for everyone at the moment, you don't have to sign in or anything.

Tuesday, 1 December 2009

Tuesday 01/12/09

I’m eating a Double Decadence Domino’s pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni and watching endless episodes of Miami Ink, because this is what I must do, and this kid walks in and this is a kid that looks like this…

…and wants to get SURVIVOR tattooed across his stomach, because he had testicular cancer when he was 16 and this spread up to his lungs and to cut a long story short this kid is a fucking hero and I love him so.

And I can’t imagine when I last had an original thought by myself, so following on this pattern, I decide on the spot that I want to get a similar tattoo, a tattoo that says that I’m straight, I don’t think on multiple levels, I’ve got a story to tell and I’ll shove it in your face.

And my shortlist of words is: SURVIVOR or STRONG or STRONGER

So I run this idea past Nathan, because you have to have at least a second opinion which you’re going to ignore when you come up with something ridiculous, and Nathan tells me the following:

“I’m sorry but ‘Survivor’ is a Destiny’s Child song.

And ‘Stronger’ is a Britney song.

Unless you want people singing these songs to you, I would refrain”

And then I say to Nathan that I did think of the Britney and Beyonce associations for my words, but then I decided to kid myself that I live in a world where people either don’t remember these things, or were never aware of them. For example, the guy above, does Nathan think that he has any friends who know that Britney Spears released a song called Stronger? And no, Nathan doesn’t.

Then of course, it hits me that I live in a world that revolves around Sydney Mardi Gras, Madrid Pride and Kelly Rowland vs David Guetta, but I decide to have my motivational word tattoo nonetheless, and on top of it I’m going to stick another wild animal there and make my legs look like a zoo decorated by a self-help therapy group.

When I next look at the time it’s 0630 and I’ve stayed up all night in this trance, eating and watching and talking to people in different time zones, but that’s OK, because the people in the shop where I work are pretty chilled and they don’t mind what time I turn up, so I go to bed and lie there for a bit

thinking that I want Ami from Miami Ink to tattoo me, Ami being the badass “dangerous” tattoo artist who has some serious issues and does kick-boxing and fires other artists when they become more prominent than him, and so yes I want him to tattoo me giving me the usual aggro and then when I make a move on him, not because I fancy him necessarily but because I just want a reaction, and he realises that I’m a faggot, he jumps me and the guy in the picture above is also in the shop and tries to stop him, but uh oh, I’m already bleeding.

Thursday, 26 November 2009

Friday 26/11/09

I was reading Marcel Proust's The Captive and The Fugitive but this was one big fuck-off volume of 900 pages and I got tired of carrying it around all day long either in my carrier bag which it made too heavy, or in my backpack where it took up all the space and I couldn't even take food with me (and in the question Proust or food? the answer should always be Proust, but I'm susceptible to making the wrong choices as we know), so after 150 pages I gave up, decided to continue reading this during the Christmas holiday when I won't have to travel around during the day and I'm now reading How It Ended by Jay McInerney, who's in my top 3 writers, well modern day writers anyway and I'm kinda hoping that it doesn't disappoint, but oh who am I kidding of course it will.



Monday, 23 November 2009

Monday 23/11/09

I want to have an extensive Christmas movie collection. At least 200. And I want to watch them all year round. And when I’m a layabout surfer living in Newquay, friends will be coming over in the middle of summer to pick me up to go surfing and I’ll be watching Christmas movies on DVD and they’ll be all like, “What are you doing, dude”. And my housemate will be like, “Don’t you know? That’s ___. He watches Christmas movies all the time. It’s his thing”

And I'm not suggesting anyfink or nuffin, but here's a list with about 20 Christmas movies on it

Friday, 20 November 2009

Friday 20/11/09

And because I sat down and wrote something in the comments yesterday that almost fully explains (ALMOST fully - I never do anything by wholes) why I was so annoyed by this person and his rant(see previous post below), I’m going to copy this on the front page now for maximum exposure and then forget about it.

So yesterday, in the comments section a reader, W, said: “I thought what he said was quite interesting. I think he did understand the point of your blog, but just found it raised difficult feelings inside him and I think its fine for him to express those to you, as it is fine for you to share with everyone else your thoughts about how he makes you feel i.e. that he is a cowardly idiot. At the end of the day it’s just different perspectives, there isn’t any objective truth about the meaning of 'London Preppy', people take from it what they will and clearly some people will find it the way that reader does, if not in whole, certainly in parts. There are certainly aspects of what he says I think I recognise. Does that make me a cunt too?”

And W made me sit down and think, well not so much sit down and think, because these thoughts were already in my head, but he motivated me to sit down and write them. Mind you, it was late Thursday night and I’d just come home from my play date with Scott’s cat and then my Dad called with some intensive questions about the weather and what have you, so I was a bit distracted and it’s not perfect, but it’s all I have. So here it is:

“No, certainly not.

I'm actually finding it difficult to respond to this with clarity. I don't know if I want to write as myself, or if I want to continue writing from the LP perspective. Actually, I don't know who he has an issue with either, as he wrote his piece, closed any comments and didn't provide an email address anywhere on his blog for me to get back to him either. Which is a bit shitty.

At the end of the day, you're right, everyone takes away whatever they want from the blog and they can express themselves accordingly.

Having read his piece and a lot of the rest of his blog though, plus from I what I've found out about the person himself (hello, friend who told me his name and hello, open facebook profile), his whole persona irks me.

I can't stand this moralist act. (I'm saying act, even though it's not an act - he lives this). In fact, he's not being a moralist. Being a moralist, being conservative would be the 1950s equivalent of what he is now. Because now, in 2009, it's safer and easier to be liberal and hide your fear, hatred and disapproval behind that front. If you're an activist for everything that's right, a martyr for the minorities, who's gonna stand in your way, right? Who's gonna tell you that you're wrong?

His thought process is so basic: I'm liberal and left-wing. I'll jump on every bandwagon going: Obama, Ghurkas in the UK, anti-Conservative, pro-civil partnership, Stonewall, anti-Boris, kill Jan Moir, etc.

As I said, he's right in being pro- and anti- these things accordingly. I can see that. I'm not blind and I'm not racist/bigoted/closed-minded (delete as appropriate to cover all the above for 100% liberalism rate)

So of course his heart is in the right place, but in this snowball of activism, he though London Preppy was worth attacking too. And that's where the misunderstanding comes.

Anyway, I'm bored of writing now and I want to go eat some ice cream and choose my clothes for tomorrow.

My final thought is, fucking hell can you imagine being friends with this guy and making a negative remark on civil partnerships as a joke? He'd stop talking to you.

Or being his boyfriend and mid-fuck you mentioned that the Daily Mail is misunderstood? He'd go ballistic.

No sense of humour. Doesn't know where to stop and what belongs where. The end"

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Wednesday 18/11/09

What does it feel like when you’re looking at pure hatred in the eye? What goes through your head when you’re stood there, face to face with someone that you know despises you and sees no worth in you?

What am I supposed to think when I’m stood there looking at him, right into his eyes, trying to understand where he found it inside him to hate so much?

Readers of the old London Preppy might remember this. It’s a year and half ago now, when I was still writing daily, when I came across one of the most passionate character assassinations that have ever been performed on me.

You can read about it by clicking here

What the hell, I don’t want you to tire, I’ll paste it all again here. Actually, I’ll paste his original text, without any of my comments. For the text AND the comments, fine, go ahead and click here

“I know hatred is self-destructive. I know the only person it hurts it me. Over the years I've developed a reflex action which automatically makes me stop and think: what do I gain from this? Just let them be - let go - make some changes, sure: stop spending time with them and winding yourself up. Realise that I can't fix everything in the world, accept the things which can't be changed, and focus on those things which really do deserve time and energy.

I know other people see things differently from me, deliberately work to oppose things I feel are crucially important, or even deliberately smear, taunt and inflame ignorance in order to sell newspapers - and their duckspeak becomes widely accepted as fact. I accept these things as part of this imperfect, challenging and complex world we live in.

Yet, somehow, there are some people who just itch and itch. London Preppy is one of those people. He's just a young guy with a body image problem who takes too many drugs - not that unusual in big city gay culture. I could forgive his pretentions to intellectualism (god knows I have a few myself). I could forgive his unhealthy obsession with food and judging everyone based on how they look (it's almost certainly worse for him to live it than it is for me to read about it). I could forgive his "Bret Easton Ellis" tattoo (who is of course the author of American Psycho).

What I can't forgive about his blog is the fact that, like those anorexia websites you read about, he has somehow become a locus of crystallisation for one of the most unhealthy and negative parts of gay culture. Readers are encouraged to enter his best body competition - but you and I needn't bother applying (compare last year's sycophantic winner). His blog entries are, by turns, deeply self-critical, negative and self-destructive (inviting us to write adoring comments and messages of sympathy) and gloating and proud of his gym-toned body (after which we idolise and lust after him). I'm sure hundreds of young men read his blog and find negative and irrational feelings about themselves reinforced.

The reason it affects me, of course, is because part of me agrees with everything he says. I still trek on down to the gym three or so times every week. Part of me thinks that "skinny-fat" people really only have themselves to blame. Part of me still chases after boys with v-shaped torsos and washboard stomachs and writes off those kind, thoughtful souls who don't. My eyes still linger over his pictures and the sections in which he talks about his sex life. For all of those people who have whispered in my ear exactly what they wanted to do to me, I still have no doubt that were I to meet him shirtless in a club, he'd roll his eyes and dismiss me in a flash.

Part of me, however, stands with Simon Fanshawe, who with a candid and witty twist laid it all bare. It's this part I prefer. I'm far from perfect, let me tell you. But I try and recognise that everyone has an inherent value, including myself. Some have speculated about the cause of the gym obsession in the gay community and made a connection with HIV/AIDS in the 1980s; I think for me and my generation the cause is far more likely to be deep insecurity, especially about forming and maintaining intimate relationships, a legacy of bullying and isolation at school, and a club scene where to compete for a mate you have to be practically an Olympic swimmer. Being physically perfect not only makes us sexually desirable to everyone, but also puts us on the moral high-ground.

Some of my best friends are a bit overweight. And, if I'm lucky enough to reach sixty or seventy years old without getting hit by a bus, maybe I'll rest my pint glass on my belly. But London Preppy will have to come to terms with the fact that he won't still be on the front cover of gay magazines before then. As things stand today, London Preppy has a fan club on Facebook with 212 members, and googling "London Preppy" yields nearly 10,000 hits. The world would be a much healthier place if he found value in himself and others somewhere else before that.”

The person who wrote this – it’s not so difficult to find who’s who, is it? - now goes to the same swimming pool as I do. I see him a few times a week.

The intensity of London Preppy is now definitely behind me. I don't depress myself on a daily basis trying to get into character to write the blog and I don’t make myself sick by thinking I’ll let everyone down if I don’t deliver the same self-loathing, gloomy blurb day after day.

In fact, I’m no longer London Preppy. But even so, reading his piece above again, I can’t help but think: what a fucking cunt.

Worse than Hitler? For sure. Worse than Satan? No doubt. Worse than Danyl? Hmm…yes.


There, I’ve said it and there’s no taking it back.

Monday, 16 November 2009

Monday 16/11/09

Formerly Greek guy with issues requires life partner / long-term companion to move to Cornwall - specifically Newquay - with. I will acquire property with ocean views and vast windows, we will spend our time surfing and drinking (I will take up drinking). Sexual attraction is desirable but not necessary, we just have to get on perfectly and you need to tolerate Bjork and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Apply here. Please have blue eyes.

Other things we will be doing in Cornwall are:

Playing with crabs on the sand when the tide is out

Playing with crabs on the sand some more, standing next to boats

People we fancy this week are:

Mellow singer / songwriter Jack Johnson

Mellow singer / songwriter Alexi Murdoch

Mellow singer / songwriter Newton Faulkner (yes, you heard me)

Saturday, 14 November 2009

Saturday 14/11/09

These are my top 20 albums of 2009. Plus a youtube link for a couple of songs from each album. I had said I'd write a way to kill oneself inspired by each album, but you know what, I've only done that for the top 3. SO-RRY.

Here they are:

20. Miss Kittin & The Hacker – Two
(1,000 Dreams / Suspicious Minds)

19. Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson – Break Up
(Relator / Blackie's Dead)

18. Erik Hassle – Hassle
(Hurtful / Isn't It Obvious)

17. Morrissey – Years Of Refusal
(I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / That's How People Grow Up

16. Junior Boys – Begone Dull Care
(Parallel Lines / Work)

15. Felix Da Housecat – He Was King
(We All Wanna Be Prince / Elvi$)

14. Yeah Yeah Yeahs – It’s Blitz!
(Zero / Heads Will Roll)

13. Yuksek – Away From The Sea
(Tonight / Break Ya)

12. Gossip – Music For Men
(Pop Goes The World / Men In Love)

11. La Roux – La Roux
(In For The Kill / Quicksand)

10. The Temper Trap – Conditions
(Sweet Disposition / Fools)

9. Peaches – I Feel Cream
(Lose You / I Feel Cream)

8. Pet Shop Boys – Yes
(Love Etc / All Over The World)

7. Fischerspooner – Entertainment
(The Best Revenge / Money Can't Dance)

6. Simian Mobile Disco – Temporary Pleasure
(Audacity Of Huge / Cruel Intentions)

5. Tiga – Ciao!
(Shoes / Speak, Memory)

4. Annie – Don’t Stop
(Songs Remind Me Of You / Bad Times)

3. Bjork – Voltaic (The Volta Mixes)
(Dull Flame Of Desire - Modeselektor Remix For Girls / Earth Intruders - Lexx Remix)

I’m in Sydney at the Mardi Gras party on Saturday night after the parade. I’m busy fighting my way through the shirtless, sweaty crowds trying to find a friend who’s passing out in the corner, slightly pissed off because I’ve had to leave behind this Canadian guy with the biggest arms I've ever seen (but I'm a good friend like that) and as this is happening I can hear the Modeselektor Remix For Girls of The Dull Flame Of Desire by Bjork coming on and think, oh I know this song, and I try to sing along to the first verse, so as to show everyone that I know it…but as I’m mouthing "I love your eyes my dear", she’s already on the second verse where she sings “there’s a charm that’s greater still", and then I can't remember anything else apart from crashing down and a flashing thought that I had most of the drink that made my friend leave the dancefloor to go lose consciousness in a dark corner before handing it to him

2. IAMX – Kingdom Of Welcome Addiction
(My Secret Friend / I Am Terrified)

I’m standing in what you might call the moshpit at the IAMX gig in Warsaw, very near the front but slight off to the right with Scott’s hands on my shoulders behind me. During the first eight songs I have taken two or three bumps of ketamine, which are already making me feel like I’m not there. When they launch into I Am Terrified, I open the bag and take the rest of the 3 grams, each snort stinging more than the previous one, my eyes really watering now, almost unable to lift the key up to my nose for the final hit. I fall to the floor within two minutes and Scott walks away, out of the venue, leaving me there, as I’ve asked him to, proving his love to me

1. Royksopp – Junior
(The Girl And The Robot / You Don't Have A Clue)

I’m in Sydney listening to this on my headphones, You Don’t Have A Clue is playing, it’s soon after 0900 and I’m on my way to the temp job where they pay me $25/hour to google stuff and get into arguments with a line manager that nobody takes seriously about my lack of interest and effort (hello, I am a) London Preppy and b) on an extended holiday for stress-related breakdown recovery). I’m at the intersection of Park Street and George Street and start crossing diagonally once the traffic lights turn green. I don’t remember what hits me first, a bus or the red Ford Falcon, but I never hear past the first three seconds of Silver Cruiser, which is fine really, because it’s the weakest song on the album

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Tuesday 10/11/09

I am putting together the list of my albums of the year
I will post the list on here
I will write about the best way to kill yourself whilst listening to each album

Sunday, 8 November 2009

Sunday 08/11/09

Me: Hello, 1 million hits

1 million hits: Hello, London Preppy

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Tuesday 03/11/09

I need to find a tween Lloyd forum somewhere and I need to see what their reaction is after Saturday's debacle, and how they plan to remedy the situation this week. Is a massive voting campaign being planned? Teenage girls have always been a well organised, rational and non-hysterical bunch of "go-getters", so I expect this to happen post haste.

I need to stop hating Danyl from the bottom of my broken heart and through the marrow of my resorpting bones, but most of all I need him to go have that disconcerting mole from his left shin removed, because everytime I see it in a picture (89% of them to be fair - he must think it's his Madonna tooth gap or unruly left eyebrow or something: a "natural flaw" that will elevate him into worship) I just think that the poor bisexual lad has stepped into Lucie's dog's shit when practising his dramatic stage falls.

And this is the LAST time I'm typing here selmi-conscious on forgotten Xanax from a bedside draw that expired last month (I don't use this bedroom much)

Sunday, 1 November 2009

Sunday 01/11/09

Here are my top 50 songs of 2009. With youtube clips (or other link where the song can be heard). Occasionally I've squeezed two songs by the same person together. WHATCHOU GONNA DO. I'm going to post the list before I go crazy making small changes here and there. The order is a bit fluid anyway, but generally 1-10 > 11-20 > 21-30 etc. And that the number 1 song is farking awesome and I had no trouble putting it there. EDIT: Actually I take that back about the order. As I was finding the videos and putting the list together I heard all the songs again and they should all move up. Apart from number 1. Which clearly can't get any higher. Either way.

50. Cazwell - I seen Beyonce at Burger King
49. Yuksek - Yuksek - Break ya / Tonight
48. Grrove Armada - Go
47. Jack Penate - Be the one
46. The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart - Young adult friction
45. The Rumble Strips - Not the only person
44. David Gray - Fugitive
43. Gossip - Pop goes the world
42. Miami Horror - Don't be on with her
41. Basement Jaxx - Feelings gone

40. Yohanna - Is it true
39. Bruce Springsteen - The wrestler
38. Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson - Blackie's dead
37. Passion Pit - Sleepyhead
36. Florence & The Machine - Rabbit heart (raise it up)
35. Visitor - Los feeling (rough mix)
34. Bag Raiders - Shooting stars
33. LCD Soundsystem - Bye bye bayoo
32. Fever Ray - Triangle walks (Rex The Dog remix)
31. The Temper Trap - Sweet disposition

30. Bjork - Nattura (Switch remix)
29. Fischerspooner - Money can't dance
28. RevoLucian - Bale out
27. Simian Mobile Disco - Cruel intentions (joker remix)
26. Digikid84 - Bboy underground
25. Courtney Love - Pacific coast highway
24. Chromeo - Night by night
23. Preston - Dressed to kill
22. Saint Etienne - Method of modern love
21. Pet Shop Boys - The way it used to be

20. Bjork - The dull flame of desire (modeselektor remix for girls)
19. Chew Lips - Solo (Tepr remix)
18. Peaches - Lose you
17. autoKratz - Stay the same
16. Erik Hassle - Hurtful
15. Annie - Anthonio
14. IAMX - My secret friend / The great shipwreck of life
13. Royksopp - Vision one / You don't have a clue
12. Simian Mobile Disco - Audacity of huge
11. Mendetz - Souvenir

10. Felix Da Housecat - Elvi$
9. Tiga - Shoes / Mind dimension
8. La Roux - In for the kill
7. Yelle - Qui est cette fille
6. Bloc Party - One more chance
5. Bat For Lashes - Daniel
4. Annie - Songs remind me of you
3. Phoenix - Lisztomania (Classixx version)
2. Bon Iver - Blood bank
1. Gossip - Heavy cross (Fred Falke remix)

I can do albums in the next few days if anyone cares.

Friday, 2 October 2009

Friday 02/10/09

On Friday the website for magazine Dazed & Confused publishes a feature / interview on the death of London Preppy.

From Friday and for the foreseeable future – I don’t know how long; until somebody deletes the internet or something – the article can be found here:

"I just go through each day and surprise myself that I'm not dead by the end of it"

Thursday, 10 September 2009

Thursday 10/09/09

Does anyone have vinyl copies of the following albums that I could have / buy off you? Please note, I said vinyl.

In order of absolute desperation / importance:

Suede – Dog Man Star
Yelle – Pop-Up
Fischerspooner – #1
Longpigs – The Sun Is Often Out (GOT THIS)
LCD Soundsystem – Sound Of Silver
Sainte Etienne – Too Young To Die
Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago
Miss Kittin and The Hacker – First Album
The Knife – Deep Cuts

If so, please email me: london.preppy at gmail dotcom

Friday, 28 August 2009

Thursday 27/08/09

A Boy and his friend K-LOL, who both live in London, occasionally post on a music messageboard where people chat about pop music, yes, mainly idiotic people about idiotic pop music to be fair, but it’s something to do I guess. And A Boy forwards me an email conversation where he and K-LOL discuss some of the people on the messageboard, because they’re sad and petty and having miserable lives and boring office jobs that don’t require much concentration. I remember the days when I had an office job.

K-LOL: “Let’s analyse some of the people on ___, simply based on their pictures”

[attaches picture of Poster 1]

[attaches picture of Poster 2]

A Boy: “Wow, that second one really is atrociously bad. I just know I hate him”

K-LOL: “Poster 1 is just a Belgian guy who thinks he’s cool and lives in Dalston whilst being above it and makes wise informed comments and gets it and likes Madonna in the old fashioned cool way and lots of new hip underground stuff because he keeps his ears open and has a short attention span caused by the consumption of too much mediazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Shame he has to express all this on the ___ messageboard because he doesn’t have anyone in real life to discuss these interests with.

Poster 2 is the worst example of provincial Northern queen imaginable, and I can only hope that his life is so fucking miserable that his “do” (LOL) gets lighter and lighter in every picture due to a freak chemical reaction between the peroxide and the tears he cries in bed every night”

Then A Boy tells me of a story where K-LOL has gotten in an argument with another person on there (Poster 3) and this is an argument that went like that:

Poster 3: “[something tedious and banal in frilly prose]”

K-LOL (who posts on the forum as ‘LeftMyHeartInTokyo”: “You should be a writer. I see James Joyce parallels. Might be the ketamine though”

Poster 3: “Oh no, heart, I think you should be a writer”

K-LOL: “LOL! Thanks babes!!! I'm more of an actor/singer/dancer myself though. We're all creative in different ways. Sometimes I get a fire in my belly and I just want to put some Florence on and roll around on a stage draped in a sash or something. Intercepting my performance with little yelps, the odd monologue, some vocal scales. That's how I express myself. Other times I'm feeling more reflective and throw some Tori on the stereo, turn the lights off and lay in awe on my bedroom floor whispering, oh oh smother me Mother. I'll give the writing thing a go too though, God, I love a new challenge LOL!!!!!”

K-LOL again: “I like it when you call me heart, Poster 3. When I was little, my Mum used to call me “her little heart”. It reminds me of that. She dead now, of course. Dead dead dead. Sometimes, when I miss her too much, I come on this website and read your words and I feel a little warm inside. Other times I just climb to the top of a mountain and throw little things off. Like car parts, bottles or cuttlery, or whatever I find lying around. I’ve never met you Poster 3, but you write about music (mostly the sound of NOW!) in a way that penetrates me right through to the heart like that guy did in the Indiana Jones film. Never stop hon”

In other news, earlier today, I email A Girl and this is a conversation that goes like this:

Me: “And on that note, I can announce that I’ve finally finished my work for today…”

A Girl: “Fuck you”

So, there we have it: A Boy, K-LOL, A Girl. Awful, awful, mean-spirited rude people. I should never be friends with them.

Friday, 14 August 2009

Saturday 15/08/09

Read this introduction first.

Here is the article ___ ___ wrote about me in her final project after interviewing me on email and in person. ___ ___ is a Fashion Journalism student. Well, a Fashion Journalism graduate now I guess, if she did pass with this tripe. She has chosen to dedicate her life to writing about chiffon, bows and hemlines. But I’m not here to judge. Nah, that's a lie. ___ ___ also presented herself to me as a big Bret Easton Ellis fan. She said that she loves his books and she has contacted Ellis’ agent in order to get in touch with him (never heard back), plus she found Ellis’ personal profile on facebook and messaged him there (never heard back). Here is what she wrote in her article about me (in regular font) and my comments (in bold).

We cultivate (thesaurus) ourselves by taking influences from around us – mainly by reading (yes, because more people read than watch TV or talk to each other etc). But what happens if you don’t quite comprehend where the fictional world ends and real world begins? (ooh I don’t know, you’re a complete moron like London Preppy?) ___ ___ speaks to London Preppy, a fan of author Bret Easton Ellis’ work, who leads a lifestyle that is straight from one of his novels… (well, not quite, I write a largely fictional blog that is similar to a BEE character, my actual lifestyle isn’t quite that, but I guess some fashion journalism students don’t quite comprehend where the fictional world ends and real world begins)

Should the fictional world be taken seriously sometimes? The nihilistic, violent and even sadistic settings of BEE are certainly not something you would call ‘self-help’ books. BEE’s books are mostly about violent characters (yes, if you’ve only read American Psycho, or rather seen a Ricki Lake special on American Psycho) that are in the condition of being ‘nothing’ (whah?). What they all have in common is a lack of empathy, lack of goals or anything that is considered to be decent or pure. In 1991, when American Psycho was to be published, Mr Ellis’ publishing company, Simon & Schuster, decided to pass on the project because of the substantially violent content of the book and due to external pressure from S&S’s parent company, Gulf & Western (somebody’s been doing their google research – GIVE THIS PERSON A DISTINCTION). By tossing the book aside, they missed the chance of publishing one of the most influential works of our time. Or was it a miss? The amount of criticism leveled at BEE for his books, and from portraying such violent monsters as American Psycho’s main character, Patrick Bateman, cannot be concealed. So, has the ‘avant-garde’ mastermind created and army of real beasts? Mega-LOLZ for this, brilliant. I don’t even know what to say to that – I’m referred to as a ‘real beast’. Perhaps I should have chopped her up when I met her.

Meet LP, 29, from London Hello (who wishes not to be named further proof that he's a beastly criminal). LP is a fan of Mr Ellis STOP TYPING ‘MR ELLIS’ YOU FOOL, ‘ELLIS’ IS PERFECTLY FINE FOR FAMOUS PEOPLE and validated his true dedication in 2007 by tattooing ‘BEE’ on his bulging ooh, thanks left bicep. LP is known for running a blog on the Internet, which he calls “Nihilistic 21st century urban stories”. In his own words, it’s “a combination of world-weary, over-educated disgust at the shallowness of the world and lots about self abuse and pumping up your body so it looks real nice. Is it all fact, is it fiction who the fuck knows”.

Preppy started his blog over five years ago as a diary he shared with friends and “as it grew bigger and bigger I started writing less personal stuff and it became an amalgamation of fiction and reality”. Meeting LP in real life is nerve-racking (line of coke before she left home?) . He is wearing a blue sweater by Ralph Lauren, blue jeans, white sneakers and a huge designer bag that is filled with his gym clothes. Preppy takes a seat opposite a mirror bitch and it is noticeable that he can’t take his eyes of ‘off’ love his Greek-like build with sparkling eyes and a chiseled jaw line Ha ha ha ha. I take it all back. This is clearly a work of fiction. His demeanor is collected (= he must be on DRUGS) , mysterious (must be that jaw line) and you are drawn to each word that comes from his mouth because you can’t understand his accent. But who really is LP? Should his blog be considered just as vanity or an end result of taking BEE’s world too seriously? Is it OK if I don’t take either option?

The content of the ‘LP’ blog follows the ‘Ellis style’ with Preppy popping copious amounts of different pills: “a comprehensive list of: 96 tablets of Tylenol PM, 32 Nytol QuickCaps, 26 Zopiclone (7.5mg) and 12 Valium (10mg)” (contacting his doctor friend for more prescriptions) and showing his obsession with his looks by going to the gym every day (This coming from a person who did a degree on writing about people’s looks). Working as an Accountant (“where you’re such a boring fuck I don’t even need to find a way to put you down”) and modeling for gay magazine covers, it is obvious that he is interested in the upscale (yes all the ridiculous magazine covers I’ve done have been extremely upscale) and conceited lifestyle (every ‘Accountant’ clearly leads a conceited lifestyle. What a glamorous job) in all aspects of his life. Also, “being dead inside will certainly help, so try to kill your spirit as early as you can. Everything else will fall naturally into place”. Evidently, Preppy appears to be numb about his presence and life around him; listing his designer outfits for the day, getting bored in nightclubs and, as Preppy enlightens in his blog, “plodding through life in a pointless manner”. Everyday life to him is “performing repetitive tasks day after day in the edge of complete and utter indifference”, and warns his readers about “happy” people: “Those people have been born with a complete lack of cognitive ability – stay clear of them”. The notion of ‘life is short’ and ‘you only live once’ apparently makes Preppy nauseous: “What I say to those people is that if they like life so much, they have mine too”.

Have the limits of facts and fiction come too hazy or open to flexibility for some people (Asks ___ ___ for the 23rd time) ? As LP asked earlier, “Is it all fact, is it fiction, who the fuck knows?” LP does apparently ensure that he is just ‘fascinated’ by the world Mr Ellis creates in his books, and therefore maintains he is not a stalker (I don’t know love, it’s not me who contacted BEE’s agent, found his personal facebook page and messaged him there too like a crazy fangirl) . “I appreciate his philosophy as it comes through his writing. I share similar concerns. Therefore, I don’t consider myself ‘a fan’. I don’t want to go through his rubbish or get his autograph”. But is his blog all evidence to the contrary? I don’t know, is your body shape all evidence that you should not be wearing these leggings His latest blog entry is an excited note on an interview with BEE by John Flynn in Fantastic Man no.9 in Spring 2009, mentioning his name. Preppy writes: ‘So there we have it. BEE’s Mum has seen this blog. BEE has seen this blog. If this doesn’t mean LP has come full circle, I don’t now what does’. The worrying fact Awww…I got her worried now. What a caring person. I foresee a career in erm…fashion journalism is that the mentioning of LP was in connection of talking about ‘crazy’ fans. Paul Flynn writes in Fantastic Man: “How does it feel to know there is a stranger wandering about with your name tattooed on him?” BEE: “It’s strange, you know?”. This time there is a long pause than usual’. Fantastic editing skills there, The London Lite showbiz pages beckon

LP decided to have another tattoo done as another milestone (yes, English is her second language, well spotted) to Mr Ellis’ work, which is carved (!) on his back: “___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ Less Than Zero”. The evidence speaks for itself… Evidence eh. What was I on trial for? I want a verdict please. Oh wait, it must be that question that kept popping up every second sentence: Are some people too fucking stupid to distinguish between reality and fictionzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Anyway, that was all. I don’t really mind what ___ ___ has written at the end of the day. She had to find an angle for her essay, the angle she chose was that I’m stupid and obsessed. Whatever. What I find quite lame though is the easy way out that she took. “Oh he likes Bret Easton Ellis, he must hate the world, approve of violence, be shallow and materialistic”. This is a beyond clichéd view of what “Mr Ellis” writes. It’s recycling every tabloid, low-rent talk show and Heat-magazine punchline from the last 18 years. I’m looking forward to reading insightful, unprecedented articles from ___ ___ in Reveal magazine about Madonna being the Queen of reinvention, Kate Moss’ status as a style icon, Amy Winehouse destroying her talent through drug abuse and Posh Spice being too thin by the end of the year.

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Friday 14/08/09

I’m maybe sat on my bed or most likely whoever’s couch I’m sleeping on this Thursday 26th March earlier this year, when I get an email from an unidentified female that tells me:

“Hello London Preppy,

I got your e-mail from your facebook site, I was wondering if you would like to answers some questions about your lifestyle and about your 'fascination' about Bret Easton Ellis?

My name is ___ ___ and I'm a student at ___ in ___. I'm doing my final major project BA (Hons) in Fashion Journalism and I have decided to do a magazine called 'Glamorama' that is an homage to Mr. Ellis and his work. This magazine will appear in my University's graduate fashion week and of course will be viewed by my teachers.

Hope to hear back from you, I'd love to talk to you more!


___ ___”

Now, generally I’m very bored and severely self-obsessed, which is a dangerous combination in terms of making myself available to anyone who wants to dedicate some time and attention to me, so I write back:

“Hi ___,

Of course. I'd be happy to help. Let me know.



Then ___ replies that this is great and she will soon send me some interview questions, then ___ sends me some interview questions.

The questions vary between the extremely challenging ones that I’ve never heard before (“Do you wish to remain anonymous as London Preppy”, “Why did you start writing your blog”, “Are you a big fan of Bret Easton Ellis”), which I close my eyes, tie one arm behind my back and respond to, and the clearly misguided insane ones, which I really don’t know how to answer (“Do you realize that Mr. Ellis’ purpose on writing nihilistic books is the fact that he hates that world”).

Answers that I give include:

“I started the blog over two years ago. It was a personal diary that I wrote and shared with friends. I never set any targets, as in, I want to have this many thousand readers a day. As it grew bigger and bigger I started writing less personal stuff and it became a mix of fiction and reality”

“The tattoo is a declaration of how appealing his work is to me. I’m not really interested in Bret Easton Ellis as a person, or as a celebrity. I wouldn’t want to meet him and “hang out” with him and neither do I idolise him. I appreciate his philosophy as it comes through his writing. I share similar concerns. Therefore, I don’t consider myself “a fan”. I don’t want to go through his rubbish or get his autograph”

I send the email a few days later and forget about it.

I continue to play the role of a human being for a couple more months as I have been doing for the last 29 years and then on 6th May I receive the following email:

“Hi LP,

I don't know if you remember me, I'm the girl who asked you a few questions for my final major project in Fashion Journalism. I'm still working on my articles and was wondering if you would be up for doing a face to face interview with me?

Thanks, ___”

I’m liking this a little bit less because I can’t be bothered, but regardless I agree to meet up and play. This meeting takes place in early May.

We go to some coffee shop and ___ buys me a hot chocolate. She tells me that she wanted to meet up with me, because my answers over email were disappointing, I didn’t come across crazy enough, I was ruining her angle and she was finding it difficult to write her piece. She asks me more or less the same questions again in person this time, and I see that I’m boring her, I’m clearly not the psychopath she was hoping for, I’m not as obsessive as the blog makes me look, basically I’m not London Preppy. The only time I see her eyes light up is when I mention what the tattoo down my back says (which I’ve never revealed on the blog) – basically another Bret Easton Ellis reference. I can see that this is something she will use.

The interview ends, she tells me that I’m boring again, begins to question whether I actually write London Preppy myself.

At the end of the day this is perhaps my fault. If people want to interview London Preppy, perhaps I should answer like London Preppy. I’m new to this though, I don’t know how to do it.

Anyway, about a week ago I remember this whole thing again and send ___ and email to ask how it all went, and can I see the article please. ___ replies (after my third email) and sends me a link with the article.

I start to read, and whatever sedatives I’ve taken today are simply not enough. ___ has chosen to go down her original route and up-craze me, because I guess it reads better. So she’s making me come across as a complete nutcase, a terminally flawed character, an absolute idiot. Now, I’m not exactly sure, but I think I can respond on here. So I will. In long-standing London Preppy tradition, I will copy her article and make comments as we go along with whatever I want to say.

This is too long a post already so I’ll take a break and post article / reply shortly.

Monday, 10 August 2009

Tuesday 11/08/09

My laptop is currently broken, but we don’t need to worry because I have an appointment to get it fixed this week, following which I'm writing a post where I'll be very angry about something / someone and those are the best ones.

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Wednesday 22/07/09

I receive this message on a 'dating' website:

"Hello. My name is ___ from [place where I am] but now I move to Hong Kong stay and set up my cafes and clubs and restaurants and GYM for high classes gay members. I will fly to [place where I am] for an interview. 

I hope you can work in my companies. I willing offer you return tickets and staff flat and duty meals and US$8500 to $12500 plus extra on top per month. You can work for us from 3 to 6 months. Or up to 2 years. I will help you apply work visa. Please consider my offer. Please send photos and CV and mobile phone number so I can call you and add you online and arrange time and place for an interview. If you have friends want to go to HK and work for us. You can ask them send me details. Thanks. 

Please reply with thanks, 

___ ___"

Now if anyone can hazard a guess on what my job description will be, what exactly I'll have to do for this $12500 plus extra on top per month, you know what, I'm off.

Sunday, 21 June 2009

Sunday 21/06/09

I’m standing outside – what I guess is – a very cool electro straight club and it’s 0330 in the morning and I’m talking to the guy who's sorting out the taxis.  And I tell him where I want to go and he quotes me $27 and I say that’s cool.  I’m wearing skinny jeans and white plimsolls and a loose cut vest  that’s hardly there and I wore this because in a straight club you can’t take your top off but I knew it was gonna get really hot and sweaty so I put this on to stay cool. 

Then this group of guys and a girl also comes out of the club and the girl is kinda blonde and trashy and the guys are oh so hip and one of them is wearing green skinny jeans and they’re all wearing 2009 deck shoes and white socks and check shirts and they all look a bit Dazed & Confused, or is it Another Man, I don’t know what the style magazines are called these days. 

And the girl is staring at me and kinda looking to make conversation and I chat to her for a bit.  Then one of the guys – who’s really drunk at this point – puts on a pair of thick-framed, geeky glasses (following all the fashion rules for the fashion people) and he started talking trying to be amusing but mostly being facetious and he says: are you a cyclist, do you cycle places?  This is as witty as he can be at this hour looking like (if we were in London) an East London twat.  I look at him llike he’s not not making any sense at all and comment to the girl, who’s more sober, that her friend is very funny although not really.  Like you would talk to someone who you’ve built a rapport with when their friend is very drunk. 

Then the East London guy pokes me in the chest and says you don’t cycle anywhere, do you, you think you’re too hot to cycle anywhere.  Turning aggressive perhaps because I’m wearing a top that shows that I go to the gym and I’m not playing his game.  The girl looks blank, like this isn’t happening, I ask him why he’s being rude, even though I know really, I can see the chip on his shoulder from where I’m stood, then they walk off. 

Waiting for the taxi still, a different guy and a girl duo walk up to the taxi guy and ask him how much it is to go to ___, the taxi guy quotes them $25, I hear that and ask him why they’re paying $2 less when their destination is further than mine.  The guy looks all confused, take a look at his map, his list of destinations, his prices, and apologises for making this mistake.  Everyone pretends he’s not making up the prices anyway, then the new guy and girl duo decide to share a taxi, since my place is on the way to theirs. 

It turns out that these guys are a brother / sister double act, and they’re nice enough and we spend the 25-minutes journey chatting.  During this 25-minute journey the following things happen: 

- I take my phone and start playing on facebook

- The sister sees my phone and asks me which guy I’m texting

- I ask the sister why she assumes that I’m gay, is it my outfit or what

The girl says that no, it’s not my outfit, it’s just that I have too nice a smile and my skin is too good or some one who’s been clubbing for a few hours

- I decide that I’m going to like this girl

- The brother and the sister ask me lots of questions about gay people, but in a nice, non-weird way

- The brother tells me about the time when his friend from home decided to come out when they (all the straight lads) were 16 and they all went to some local gay bar in full support

I tell the brother and sister the story about the East London gay at the taxi rank

The brother and sister empathise in the way that only drunk people who’ll never see me again can empathise, i.e. genuinely albeit short-spanned

The taxi gets to my place and…

…I pay my share, say thank you to the brother and sister, tell them that they’re lovely, because they are, and you have to tell people good things you think about them and not only bad things

- The brother asks me to tell them that they’re “fabulous” because he expects all gay people to use that word according to the cliché

- I tell the brother and sister that they’re fabulous and…

- …get out

Friday, 19 June 2009

Friday 19/06/09

On Thursday A Girl emails me and sends me a screenshot of her bank balance, a bank balance which includes £335,000 which her parents sent her as a deposit for a flat she’s buying in London. And A Girl says:

“Here’s a picture I’m not going to see ever again, so we better make the most of it”

Her account is £355,980.23 in credit.

A Girl also says: “I went in the bank at lunchtime to cancel a cheque and the clerk who was doing this looked up when my balance came on the screen and said ‘You have a lot of money in your account. Do you know what you’re going to do with it?’”

I says: “What did you tell him?”

A Girl says: “I said, I’m buying a flat”

I says: “Yes, well, I suppose this isn’t a time to be joking…”

A Girl says: “I regret it now though. What a wasted opportunity. If I could go back, I would have said one of the following:

- I’m adopting an orphan baby from Malawi

- I’m hiring someone to murder my possessive boyfriend

- I'm buying a Krispy Kreme shop

- I'm expecting a delivery of ___ from South America

I says: “These are all good, but you could definitely play around with them a bit. I would have said one of the following:

- I'm hiring someone to murder my possessive baby

- I'm expecting a delivery of Krispy Kremes from Malawi

- I'm adopting my orphan boyfriend

- I'm buying South America

Oh, and by the way, I have directed all calls from my mobile phone to your office number, I hope you don’t mind. If the phone rings, can you please answer and tell them I’ve passed away. Whoever it may be. Thank you”

A Girl says: “You don’t really want me to do that do you, because I will”

I says: “You have my full permission”

A Girl says: “OK then. I plan on saying ‘I’m sorry he’s no longer with us, funeral services are being held at 1pm on Monday at St Catherine’s church in Bayswater, thank you for your call’”

I says: “I wouldn’t have it any other way”

Saturday, 13 June 2009

Saturday 13/06/09

On Friday A Girl emails me and this is a conversation that goes like this. 

A Girl: “Hello old colleague.  How’s things?”

Me: “Oh hello there, glad you asked, I’m about to jump out the window.  And you?”

A Girl: “Not bad.  I’m looking forward to spending the weekend without leaving my flat at all sinking further into depression, no wait, numerous bottles of wine.  Crossing the road to the office this morning I wished a motorbike would run me over and you know what, one almost did.  It was lime green”

Me: “Well, that sounds better than my day, sorry, life, anyway.  By the way, I’m working from home today.  I am missing office politics though – I’m about to backstab my housemate’s goldfish via a discreet email, just to feel a bit motivated”

A Girl: “I can’t see that you have any other option at the moment” 

Half an hour later I email A Girl. 

Me: “By the way, the goldfish is now dead and it has nothing to do with me emailing myself about its salary and how it never does anything and just uses buzz words to seem busy”

A Girl: “You did this, right?”

Me: “Hold on, I just looked over and even though it was floating upside down 2 minutes ago it's now swimming around again”

A Girl: “I'm starting to rethink your ability to work from home, it's clearly driving you to become delusional and this just after one day”

Me: “No, this all happened.  I think it was just doing its trick where it floats upside down for a while pretending to be dead for attention”

On Friday A Boy also emails me and this is a conversation that goes like this.

A Boy: “___ has left me a picture comment – ‘Delish as ever’”

Me: “I must remember to say ‘delish’ more often.  I’m going to have to ask him whether he fancies you”

A Boy: “You’re only asking that to find out why he doesn’t leave comments on your photos calling you delish”

Me: “He said to me in a club last week that he doesn’t find people with perfect bodies attractive”

A Boy: “Awww. ___ and I have so much in common”

Me: “Yes, a resignation to mediocrity”

A Boy: “Isn’t such brutal determination to not delude oneself to be admired?”