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Are you out of your tiny little mind?

No Personality
cluhji yiujg

Hi mum.

::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2012/04/17/no-personality/#comments

Feeling a bit emo.
cluhji yiujg

Every musician likes to think their music has no genre.

::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2012/04/10/feeling-a-bit-emo/#comments
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FAO David Starkey
cluhji yiujg

The UK riots should not be attributed to blurring racial stereotypes. They should be attributed to the fact that 76% of the UK's youth are utter cunts.

The UK riots should not be attributed to blurring racial stereotypes. They should be attributed to the fact that 76% of the UK’s youth are utter cunts.

::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2011/08/16/fao-david-starkey/#comments

cluhji yiujg


::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2010/12/20/eh/#comments

CSS Insults
cluhji yiujg

Div<div id=”you”></div>

“You’re a div.”

Absolute Div<div id=”you” style=”position:absolute;”></div>

“You’re an absolute div.”

No Class or Style<div id=”you” style=”" class=”"></div>

“You’re a div with no class and no style.”

Padding<div id=”you” style=”padding:50px;”></div>

“You’ve got fifty-pixel padding.”

Padding and Margin<div id=”you” style=”padding:50px;margin-left:50px;”></div>

“You’ve got padding AND margin.”

Bottom Padding<div id=”you” style=”padding-bottom:50px;”></div>

“You’ve got fifty-pixel bottom padding.”

Floater<div id=”you” style=”float:right;”></div>

“You’re a right floater.”

Firefox<div id=”you” class=”ie6″></div>

“You look wrong in firefox.”

Opacity<div id=”you” style=”opacity:0%;”></div>

“You’re completely transparent. In certain browsers.”

Invalid<div id=”you” style=”/

“You don’t even validate.”

::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2010/10/18/css-insults/#comments

Liam’s Diary
cluhji yiujg

Dearest Diary.

Once upon a time I was a boy, toying with my world and my heart and my mind. My diary was a giant moth in a blender- a shock of violent metaphor and beauty and nothing and emotion and everything, damn the details and damn the big picture, inhumane war prison of ice or burned plastic which imprisoned lost souls and launched charity missions and EU rescue teams.

It was not really poetry
Not really prose
It ignited my spirit like dust up my nose
and occasionally lapsed into something quite pretty

And as the years wore through the writing (revealing grammatical errors, teenage angst and the odd pacing issue) it slowly uncovered a story, like a slew of varnished skittles in a drained wishing well. Things happened. There were mob bosses, trinities, deaths and romances,

first loves, first kisses, first kills and first dances.

There was a girl, a writer. She was very kind to me. I abstracted, but we couldn’t collaborate.
There was a girl, an artist. She was very kind to me. I coloured, but we clashed.
There was a girl, a physicist. She was very kind to me. I forced, but we couldn’t form a solution.
There was a girl, a photograph. She was very kind to me. I just looked at her…

Then some time ago I came back from the void, and avoiding eye contact since then I began to explore my horizons and butter my toast… but I guess my horizons are wider than most. I’ve been high and I’ve been low. I’ve been to Venus and Africa, the other side of Liam James or Elia Alariel or Assythment and all over whatever and whoever I’ve been, and I’ve been all over. But now that’s all over.

And every time there’s a something or a someone or a one or a zero, my circuits short and a bullet or a music box triggers. My heartbeat slows and my circuit shows, and I inject a little something creative to make things interesting. And synthetic. A little rhythmic bubble-clunk of silvered crystal.

I write a lot… Music, stories, poetry. I get bored. But the journal is an emotional polaroid- a scrapbook of bad things and good things and beauty and love.

And I’m here with my pretty camera, shaking, clutching onto my remaining polaroids and wishing magic back. I’m hauling the sun across the sky and trying to make every day perfect, writing “world peace” on the marketing priorities board and bringing back dragons. I’m waging war on war and humidity and mind games and 9pm on weeknights where there’s nothing to do but climb.

And I’m here with my pretty camera, shaking, reading back journals from seven, eight years ago when I believed in a time where there would be dragons and world peace and writers and artists and physicists and photographs. Back when I had an army. Back when I played mind games.

Back when I was a boy, and my world and my heart and my mind were just toys.

::x:: I treasure your comments. Please leave them here: http://www.liamjames.com/2010/08/26/liams-diary/#comments

I Promise
cluhji yiujg
To all my friends;

I promise to be affectionate and loving in everything I say and do. But I promise not to smother. I promise to surprise you. I promise to respect your privacy, and keep no secrets from you. I promise to be there when you need me. I promise to give you my coat when you're cold. I promise to carry you for miles when you're wearing beautiful, ridiculous heels. I promise to keep you entertained and amused. I promise to always bring you a smile, a hug and a shoulder to cry on.

I promise to be reckless and interesting.

I promise not to play mind games or cheat. I promise to be open and honest about everything I feel, say and do. I promise to make friends with your cat, your friends, your family and your CD collection.

I promise to be reliable. I promise to be on time. I promise I won't be angry- it's OK, we'll fix it. I promise to fix your cupboard, catch spiders and open jars. I promise to cook, clean, wash up and help you move furniture. I promise to buy chocolate and cakes, and never talk about calories, diets, exercise or your metabolism.

I promise to listen. I promise to pay attention. And I promise to remember next time.

I promise to notice when you've changed your hair. I promise to notice when you've made an effort. I promise that when you've had a bad night, I'll give you a cuddle, fetch you a hot water bottle and watch TV with you until you fall asleep.

I promise that when I speak to you, as far as I'm concerned you're the only person in the room.

If that's not enough, then I promise that I'll be open to suggestions.

x x x x x

Flashback # 1
cluhji yiujg
She took a deep breath and stumbled forward. Reached for a rail that wasn't there. Blinded by a flash of clarity, she fell deeper into the everywhere... It's been a while since I updated regularly. But this journal happily documents my entire "adult" life, through the sex'd up late teenage years and through all of my serious relationships to date. It's nice to keep things going. Although on the face of it Rosie treated me quite badly during our relationship, it was never really like that. There was some emotional bullying, yes, but I'm quite sure in retrospect that I was just as responsible in a completely different way. I only really learned from this about 4 years later, when my relationship with Frances ended. In that relationship I realised that I'd been making similar mistakes, which lead to different problems that were entirely my fault. I've tried to apologise to Rose for the way things went - last year I think. She didn't want to talk about it. I don't blame her. I worked through these issues and made a fresh start with Lydia, building slowly and never letting myself get out of control. Things were great and I loved her a lot, but when things started fraying slightly I closed myself off emotionally. Lydia did absolutely nothing wrong, and I can't say a bad word about her. I think I'm probably just a little too complex for a long-distance relationship at the moment. So I'm deconstructing my life and love, trying to work out how I can keep my attention focussed. If I can't work this one out, then I'll never be happy in a relationship... no matter how happy I make her. But I love people, the world, everything. I have this deep, warm feeling through my body which just peaks every time I see something beautiful, or someone beautiful. It's euphoric and intoxicating. It smells of paprika. Or maybe that's the smell of burning... I hope I can stick this one out, and learn my lessons, drink my medicine. Before I end up making the same mistakes with someone else.

cluhji yiujg
Things, people are always changing. The friends you are closest to today could be people you don't have anything in common with tomorrow. Any relationship built on care and necessity is a fragile thing.

You can't glue your own wings together- this world is all about who you know and how you treat them.
When you spread your wings you push those closest to you away.

I have been working as a graphic designer, but unfortunately this started to turn into marketing. If I believed in the "product" I would have been comfortable with that change, but I did not, so I was not. So I have recently quit.

In an attempt to balance my moral scales I am volunteering in Madagascar for three months, starting in a few weeks.

I've done quite a few competitive runs since we last spoke, and I'm not bad. I'm light and well toned (exercise is how I procrastinate), so even before I started training I was doing pretty well. Just lucky with my body I guess. I'm hoping to try the London Marathon next year.

I'm... kinda... single at the moment- I've spent a year and a half with a lovely girl called Lydia, but she's moving to London to do a PHD and neither of us are fond of "the distance thing". We've both agreed (me more than her, I think..) that the best thing to do is to treat it as a break up, and then see what happens if I ever end up moving to London. I'm taking this very well.

Due to overuse through years 2001-2007 my emotions have been well and truly fried. Unfortunately they're out of warranty, and I cannot afford to replace them at present. So for the last two years I've been taking things very well.

I hope you are happy and in sterling health. You are gorgeous, beautiful and bonny. Enjoy your week. :)

(normal service will resume shortly - or for those otherwise inclined I am Liam James on facebook)

Left in the Dust
cluhji yiujg
I've been burning too low and too quickly, and now I'm found stranded on the floor without a candle. Just finished my exams, my dissertation and my university experience, and suddenly I need to get a life.


I wonder if that's how everyone feels when they run out of the building screaming.

"I've finished! I've finally finished!
Oh God!
What the hell?"

So now I'm doing what any self-respecting man would do in the circumstances. I'm hiding. I'm getting on with some projects and waiting for my results and overdraft to run out. Then I'll wait for my tears to run out, then I'll sell my body on the street. I have it all planned out.
You see, I've got this plan. This one big score. Things are all going to click, and then *click*.

Projects... things... I'm still a hermit.

Oh, and