MySpacea place for friends

Japanese horror, arctic love, inner monologue, watching middle aged people get tipsy and do Karaoke, everything that is wrong with Richard Harrison and his camouflage ninja jumpsuit, cockney dubbing in Kung Fu, smalltown bedlam, Sofia Coppola, Nintendo, letters that never got sent, taps that drip and never stop, mixtapes that purr, Fiat 500, game over - please try again, Ricoh, The Face magazine in its heyday, Chinese rice bags with those goldfish on, houndstooth, Audrey Hepburn, Fellini, Almodovar, Izima Kaoru, D.I.Y recording on broken two deck Karaoke machines and Coomber French oral examination tape recorders in school halls at 11pm, queueing up behind a bunch of Italian teenagers wearing Kappa shellsuits to play Street Fighter II in a computer games arcade at the back of a seedy bar in Pontremoli circa 1991/2 with 500 lire in a sweaty palm, William Eggleston, Stockholm Syndrome, Stephen Shore, Truman Capote, John Peel, swirling drunken ceilings, sticker books, walking past grave yards at night, French electronic music, persuit of the hopeless, train journeys, half full on battery and that sense of panic when it cuts, falling asleep in Fabric when you're 17, polaroid, checked excercise books and 4b pencils, head pushed under the pillow pressing eyeballs until all the different colours come, Halloween, Calipos, hair dye disasters, drinking with sole intention to get drunk, Federic Garcia Lorca, playgrounds at 3am, lack of sleep, BP garages at 1am, crickets, epic Viet Nam films where all the characters are dusty and sweaty looking, laziness, caffeine overload, power ballads, soggy trainers, Haruki Murakami, James Joyce, Jeff Wall, Coco Chanel, green tea, 1950s technicolour, long silences and trying to fill them, fear of flying - recurring aircrash dreams, boarding school and school uniforms, staring at people on the tube, Bakelite phones, Madame Bovary, Silver Reed my typewriter, spaghetti westerns, the smell of new books, ice cream vans and the borderline-psychotic-sounding nursey rhymes they pelt out, fancy dress when everyone bothers, skittles, me-me-me-ness, film soundtracks, watching people all pilled up when you're not, suntans, pyjama party, disappearing in the grass, Barcelona, chandeliers, girls with long long hair, fear or technical failure, primative apple like Claris Works and games like Shuttlepuck cafe, filthy anime, watching Richard and Judy with the sound down...imagining they are lecturing me about sexual health, being stood up, spending saturday night in, oh vanity-up yours! stilted wallflower-ish conversations with pretty boys in v-neck jumpers who are bored in the Indie disco - when you have to glance sideways at each other and the lights change green-pink-purple-blue-yellow out of time with the 1-2-3-4 and then you never see each other again, The Adams Family, accordians, A Streetcar Named Desire, Shit old hammer horror movie special effects and bad lighting that's far scarier than anything produced post stop-start animation...like Evil Dead, gay disco like Sylvester in earphones - sung and danced to at a bus stop in Westborne Park waiting for the night 328 after 4 glasses of wine with a more-disco-than-you cousin...being a bit "yah-dahling", pitched roofs and sky lights, the Pit Rivers museum, Matisse's Snail, Irises, unrivaled childhood fear of Freddie Kruger, neon sign, quiet bookish types, the monotony of having to listen to prog when you have attention deficit disorder, fear of hospitals, waltzing to Blondie (doing the male dace parts) on a zebra skin rug, fleeting moments when you feel all reckless and young, steaming rows when someone smacks the table, Italy beach resort, Japan Market, hatred for Camden Town, hatred of shoulder pads-gratuitous 80s sartorial revival nightmares and helmut haircuts-please stop subjecting us to your Elizabethan face paint and physics teacher getup..."Borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered '80s", BIG city anxiety and eyeliner.