#Cocker Jarvis

[elliotpsmoke-blog]

Writer's diary three things of note - Ruth Hogan, a lookalike and raw dogging

Well, that was a week. Like the week before was and next week will be. Writer-wise, not much down on paper, but plenty to reflect on. Not least, an event for an author I’d not come across in a town I have only ever been to once or twice and have no real feel for: Ampthill feels as if it’s got far too may artisans and too many letters in its name. A short schlep but a long way from Luton. The…

[toiich]

Björk and Jarvis Cocker

[thejuvenilem]

jarvis cocker/pulp, december 1998

from the book while we were getting high: britpop & the '90s in photographs with unseen images by kevin cummins

[starshapedoasis]

-1997

[syn-back-in-black]

Jarvis Cocker at V Festival in 1996

[hyusworld]

choose your fighter or sumwhat

[leashybebes]

I feel so mean but I want to know how Buck reacted when he opened his fridge and saw that Tommy bought CHAMPAGNE, clearly planning to celebrate...

(I like breaking my own heart, it's my biggest Tommy trait of all...)

ohhhh that IS mean, i love it.

When Tommy walks out - again - Buck just stands for a long moment, once again wondering how things between them can be so, so good, and then can go south so fast. Because he's pretty sure Tommy was going to stay, long enough to eat breakfast at least, and then longer than that. And then Tommy said something really fucking stupid, and Buck said something really fucking mean and then - then he was just gone.

God damn it.

Not quite sure what else to do, Buck picks up the coffee Tommy had poured for him and takes a sip. Perfect. It's perfect. It's been months, and Tommy can still make Buck's coffee just like he likes it. It feels like it should mean something, but - but Tommy's not here. Maybe that's who he is - maybe that's as much as they'll ever have. Shallow moments of connection that feel like they mean more. Incredible sex. Talking past each other until they hit on a soft spot too painful to process properly, and Tommy walks out.

Tommy's always leaving, and Buck's always being left, and he's suddenly so, so tired.

The breakfast that had smelled so good when Buck first registered it holds no appeal. He tries a slice of bacon anyway, because he hates wasting food, and just like the coffee it's perfect. Just like the coffee, the perfection feels unearned and unstable and like it's just begging Buck to read too much into it. When he'd walked into the kitchen and seen Tommy, tired but gorgeous in the soft morning light, when he'd seen the veritable feast laid out across the worktop, he'd been rocked right off his feet and back into their six months together. Felt spoiled and adored and looked after and like it meant something. 

Fuck it, though, he thinks to himself. Maybe it just meant Tommy was hungry. They sure did wear each other out last night. He gathers up the fruit, the bagels, transfers the hot food to a single dish, digs out some saran wrap from one of the boxes Tommy had half unpacked and moves mechanically, covering plates and dishes to keep the food fresh even though he already knows there's almost no chance he'll be able to choke any of it down without seeing Tommy's ghost in the edges of his vision, filling up the kitchen of Buck's new place with missed opportunities, just like he did to the old place.

When the food's condensed and covered, it feels less meaningful. It's just leftovers. God, it's all just leftovers.

Buck opens the fridge to start putting things away and almost drops a plate. 

Because there, in his empty fridge, is a bottle of champagne. He stares for a long, long moment, but it doesn't go anywhere. Doesn't transform itself into a less obvious drink, doesn't magically become a bottle of juice or a carton of milk.

Tommy went to the store and must have paid well over the odds, because that place a few roads over is probably as far as he could have gone, and it's daylight fucking robbery in there, and he bought champagne.

There's no way, Buck thinks, feeling hopeful and heartbroken and angry and confused and regretful and desperate and like he's missed a step in the dark again, there's no way that means nothing.

It means Tommy lied about having a shift. It means Tommy wanted to celebrate. It means Tommy thought they'd have something to celebrate. It means they probably would have tumbled back into bed a couple hours from now, well-fed and a little tipsy. It means Tommy didn't want to leave. 

It means he left anyway, leaving pieces of himself behind like he always does.

Buck takes a breath, moves the bottle aside, and starts loading up the fridge.

[no-distance-left-to-run]

hardest cigarette lighting pics of all time

[taiso]

kylie minogue and jarvis cocker, 1995

scanned from the january 1996 issue of top of the pops magazine ♡

[g8dwillhunting]

bless

[iwantyoutopulpme]

Jarvis Cocker & Candida Doyle, Photography by Andrew Catlin [x]

[eyeux]

Noel Gallagher’s 5 1/2 shoe size

Noel: “Shoes are all important. Women have the best selection of shoes.” Jarvis: “Too true, too true:” Noel: “The amount of times I’ve walked into a shop and said, ‘Can I have them in a six?’ and they’ve said, ‘They’re womens.’ Women are so fucking lucky. They get periods, but they’ve got better shoes. Yours are good though, Jarvis.” Jarvis: “These are doing it. These are from Notting Hill Chungarama.” Justine: “I haven’t found it to be the case that women have a better selection of shoes. Women do generally have a better selection of clothes, but is that a blessing?” Jarvis: “If only they made stilettos in a size nine.” Noel: “I’m pissed off. I’m size five-and-a-half. I can’t get any shoes.” Justine: “Five-and-a-half! Is that all?” Noel: “You know what they say? Small shoes, small socks. How big are yours?” Justine: “Seven.” Noel: “That’s a disgrace! I bet yours are big, too. You’re about a nine.” Jarvis: “Yes, I’m about nine. Yes, I’m rather large.” Justine: “You don’t want to wear high heels, though, Noel, because you fall over all the time.” Noel: “But I want some nice flat women’s shoes. Blokes always have to wear chunky brown geezer boots or trainers, and I’m pissed off with that.” Andy: “Did you ever have Derry boots?” Noel: “No, that’s more our kid’s sort of look.”

NME Originals: NME Juke Box Fury Interview, 1994

[rapt-re]

I tried hard to make it work,

Kissed her where she said it hurt

But I was always underneath.

i’m pulp posting again (sorry guys) i’m so normal about him!!

She’s a lady (1993, live on No Stilettos)

[102rae]

too niche?

[beherenowl]

jarvis cocker with a copy of "blue velvet" by david lynch.

[shes-starshaped]

new favorite genre of images: jarvis cocker and other musicians