Stars Burn

Stars burn your fingertips
and mine,
and I've told a lie
for every star in the sky
with no regrets,
or realisation
of the consequences.

and kinda liked the phrase (words?) and used them for all sorts of things. Including a domain which I still have. So I liked it so much I had it tattooed on my back forever. In a place I can quite reach, so my girlfriend is gonna have to help me take care of it.

My plan, in the long term, is to have stars trailing from my neck down my back, over my hip, around my leg and down to my ankle. That will take a while though, and there are a few more tattoos I want before then.

The main highstreet.

Aberystwyth is falling apart.

At least it certainly feels like that sometimes.

I've had a few discussions about this over the past few weeks, but have been unable to pinpoint exactly what is wrong, or what has been going wrong recently.

Another shop closed down this week. The Don, which has been in Aberystwyth since I moved here the first time around when I was ten years old. It wont be the last though, I'm sure. A newsagents went just before it, and Bon Marche is closing down, and Peacocks is in jeopardy. On Terrace road, every other shop almost is empty. Some have been empty for years and years. Some were empty when I moved back two years ago, some have closed since then. The National Milk Bar, which was there before I moved in 92, closed down last year. The off-licence has been closed since before I moved back two years ago, longer since. The Air Ambulance Charity Shop, took in a quarter of a million pounds while it was open, but was closed down anyway.

Slowly the town will just be chain shops, massive supermarkets and pubs. It'll have no character what so ever. 

These are the just the shop closures. The council is closing down the Day Centre purpose built for the elderly, and the health board wants to close down a lot of the services at Bronglais hospital.

And after that there is this sense of something in the people. There aren't enough houses or homes for the residents, and not enough housing for the students. And there was way, way too many students. There are more students than residents, and while I don't blame them for everything; cause there are certainly enough residents in Aberystwyth that cause trouble(one way or another), but as discussed between me and my girlfriend not all of the students care about Aberystwyth, what happens here. They're kids (no offence), they're here for half the year, and only three years, and then gone again. Caring about the state of the town in the long term is not high on their priorities. And it probably shouldn't be, it's up to us residents to look after the place, but the students could help a little.

And more residents could take an interest. Voting, signing petitions, the protests, letters to councillors and MPs, there are a lot of things that could be done that don't take very long or much effort.

On top of all there, there are other bits and bobs. Like the rubbish. I understand why the country and our own council changed to fortnightly bin collections but at the same time, well, we have seagulls. There like seaside foxes. They rummage through your rubbish and rip apart your bin bags. It's insane. And some people have to put their bins out on a main(ish) road, and the rubbish can get spread a long way by the seagulls or the wind (this is Wales after all).

So there's the rubbish, and building work that never gets finished; library was supposed to be relocated but the refurbishment to the new building has been going on for a looooooooooooog time; by time it's finished we're gonna need another upgrade and don't get me started on the hospital.

All of these things (and some I can't think of right now) have created a feeling that there is something wrong with Aberystwyth.

Which makes me terribly sad because I love this town. I was desperate to move back to Wales, to be closer to my family, and I could've looked for some anywhere to live from Aberystwyth to Aberaeron, but I wanted to like her in Aberystwyth, I have always loved this town, even when I first moved here as a kid. I consider Wales my home, even when I was in Leicester, and it's sad to feel this way about the town.

I hope it things improve. I really do, and I will continue to do my part (like voting, writing letters, blog posts, stopping the seagulls from getting at my bins), because I don't really want to move. I'm settled here.

I'm happy here.




(picture from wales-online)

So I don't really do New Years, or New Years Eve, or New Years Resolutions.

Or Janurary.


For me the year starts in February, or whenever I start feeling better towards the end of January. I'm sure I've mentioned (rambled about) my thing with new years before; this blog has been going since at least 2006 (on one platform or another).

So as usual, first week or so was awful, for various reasons, but it's picked up. Insanely well.

It's been a whole year since I last self-harmed. Also from a bad new years, bad by it's mere existence. Since then I've managed. I've coped. At least, I've coped without cutting myself. I do cope relatively well with the world, even at it's worst, or my worst. I still like to hide out, though not for as long. I still have panic attacks. It's all manageable though. I get through and I live my life.

I have also been discharged from mental health services.

Now, this is big, I mean, not self-harming for a year is awesome, though I do not quite feel the pride others seem to think I should, but getting discharged is something else. I think I first got referred to a psychiatrist when I was still at DMU, so I was about 20. So I've been in the system for almost ten years. And you don't even realise it, don't even realise how much time goes by, a lot of it without any progress. So much time in the system gets lost to just trying to get the right help. More time is spent trying to get help at all, than actually getting help.

Then sometimes, the strangest thing happens, you're discharged.

It's pretty awesome.

And it's still January.

"No, is mine."

My cat is a peasant.

He has a perfectly good life;  in fact, considering that a couple of months ago he was living on the streets of Aberystwyth, he has a bloody brilliant life. When I found him he was a skinny thing, with a pinched face, and rotting teeth and a funny walk. Now his back legs are on occasion still a little dodgy, and he's not exactly fat, but he's put on weight and his mouth isn't falling to bits any more. Though his tongue hangs out randomly and he is pretty derpy.

My flat is warm, he has two boxes full of old clothes, he sleeps on my bed, on the sofa. He has food to eat, milk to drink, hamsters to fantasize about. He gets fusses, brushed, treats and hugs.

He lives a good life.

He is still a peasant.

It's not his fault really, none of us would ever really consider him a peasant cat if we hadn't taken him on a cat play date.

Sky also plays the Sims.

Sky is a queen of cats.

She's also a rescue, she was in really bad shape when she was found, but now is back to full health and is looking great. She's also a Ragdoll, which is apparently a posh breed of cat. She certainly acts that way.


She has lots of toys, and posh food, and worshippers who bow down before her while she sits on her cat-tree throne (honest).

Compared to her, Micky is a peasant.

Hell most people and animals are peasants compared to Queen Sky.

The first couple of times I took Micky over to Sky's flat, she wouldn't give him the time of day. Hell she wouldn't even be in the same room as her. Micky didn't really notice, he did a circuit of the living room, ate whatever food she hadn't eaten and then went to sleep on the carpet. Same thing both visits, he went straight for the food, then the catnip (he has catnip toys here) and then to sleep and Sky avoided him like the plague.

He then had to return to the wicked witches flat (i.e, my flat), with the laminate wood floor and inferior food.

Initially, the 'dates' were just because I needed Micky out of the flat, but we decided to continue to try and get the cats to make friends. And while it's probably easier than getting Micky to make friends with my hamster She-Ra, it's not too easy.

There has been mostly staring, Sky gives everyone the same look she gives Micky. It's the 'you are scum compared to me'  look. She's bigger than Micky, and younger, and fitter, and shouldn't really be afraid of him. So they did a lot of staring, it's a work in progress. Micky jumped on sky and they screeched a bit for like two seconds, but mostly...staring.

Anyway, we will see how things progress. Now we have started our cat integration, we will probably continue and perhaps the Queen will allow the peasant an audience.

The following video will sum up how I feel about Christmas:

Make-Up

Beige plastered over pale skin
it's disappointing,
no blush of cheek,
no stretch of  smile,
no wrinkles at your eye.
Blemishes gone, with freckles
and so are you.
Eyes black under layers of colour
something's hidden, almost lost
that you might not get back.
The morning comes with
smudges and smears
and we're left wondering
what it is you regret
when you put the mask of make-up
back on again.

r.l.w