Ane can do the cringiest things when they're a youngster on holiday. The last time I was abroad was at the tender age of 12. Enjoying the sun-baked roads of Canada and America, my family and I travelled with this coach crew all the way down and then up the West Coast. We did all the touristy things, but one of the cheesiest things I unshamefully did was to have my fortune told in Disneyland! There I was standing in front of this machine (like in the film: BIG), with a plastic gypsy draped in luscious clothing, glaring eerily back at me through the pane of glass. The steps were simple: I was to place my left palm onto the panel, slot in a quarter as required and wait... As I had proceeded with such madness, the gypsys hollow eyes lit up, it clicked twice and whoosh - out came a slip of card.

Analysing my findings, the reading noted - that my lucky number was 12 (that was my age), I have a few siblings (yes, I do), I love to beautify the home (indeed: with Punk Rock posters & David Duchovny pics especially), I'm fond of solitude and study (a natural born nrrrd - who me?), I shall marry an Artist or one who works on stage (any offers???) and how what I value will be repeatedly taken away from me... Back then, it didn't make sense to me. Being more of a schmuck now... things have become too true for my liking.
My paranoia has either been working over-time or I've been pitching myself a lot of Catch-22s, because of late - I've had a lot of people take away a part of me! Last year threw me like a metaphoric rollercoaster, with a number of folks becoming so close to me, only to leave. Through the bad times I tripped over, came these great people who rose to the occasion to help me - they were patient, understanding and took the time to listen when no one else did. I was touched, inspired to make the most in my life, even with the crappiest load of luck against me - I felt like the luckiest person in the world. If you've ever been hauled out of an emotional pit, you'd probably understand what I mean. Then somewhere along the lines - it messed up!

I can track it back to this friend of mine who I had invited to see Rocket from the Crypt. For some dumb reason she didn't even like the band, she read them in NME and wanted to brag about meeting them, so she thought that I could get her backstage with a free ticket. I couldn't and didn't. She apologised about how "I" had misunderstood. As if!!! We don't speak anymore.

Friends tell me to forget about past. "People come and go" they so casually say, implying that I shouldn't screw myself up, dwell upon or run around in circles trying to tape up friendships like I had been doing. I felt a familiarity haunt me last night as I tried to dial through to one of my best buddies. As we have a long-distance friendship, we've gone a week here and there without communicating, but otherwise we would converse everyday effortlessly. I've never known or cared so much for anyone as amazing as him. He's into punk rock, he's intelligent, funny, caring, talented, sweet and was probably the backbone to everything I achieved last year! We've been really close but I'm shit scared that this recent lack of communication may be the sign of everything falling apart for us. That we'll never get the chance to hang out or I'll never see him looking over with his dumb Danny Vapid smile. As I waited nervously on the phone, these thoughts stabbed me hard in the back to remind me how its been over three months since we've had solid communication... I felt sick.

Whether they understood punk or not, I realised that towards these one-time friends who've made an impact and left - I found myself not angry by their departure... but saddened that they've not had the chance to see how much I've accomplished, thanks to them. As time will creep by, I know Ill encounter new experiences in the scene, make more wonderful new friends - and the same forget about them drill shall reason with me again and again. But, SHIT... am I the only one to not take these great influences for granted? The people who made a difference... Is it so wrong to not want to let it all go? I don't know... may be having them taken away is the only way it can be.

Oops - I guess I let my thoughts run away there. Sorry to Rick who asked me to possibly write something about spitting... I guess this friendship thing has played on my mind recently! I must add however, although my name implies that I am the Princess of Phlegm, unfortunately I'm not a mucus-know-it-all. Nevertheless, I do know how to rock - and have been doing so by indulging in seeing or listening to Huevos Rancheros, Duotang (sweet lads!), old Estrus stuff, Thee Headcoat/tees, Armitage Shanks... oh, and the ever-wonderful Hi-Fives! I urge you to check them out! Before I forget, new Tiny Flecks of Spit is out too so please write me or HH for it (its £1ppd from 186 Knutsford road, Warrington, Cheshire, WA4 2QU, UK), next issue is planned to be an absolute treat, so look out for that around summertime!
Thanks for reading everybody, take care!

Jen 13