Catty Friday.

I didn’t feel like I was going to go out, but I also hadn’t seen Emily in a little while either. Emily was going out with her pals and I didn’t want to be tagging along on me tod so I fired Bryan a message to see if he was free. He was.

There’s definitely something to be said for just accepting invitations out and rolling with the night. Sometimes the chaos is needed, and that’s exactly how Friday ended up. I had a bloody good time with good people.

I took my camera out and barely used it, so here’s a bunch of photos I probably didn’t take. Who knows? I’m just going to blame Emily & Bryan anyway and it’s my blog so I can write what I want.

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The comfort of being a drunk party photographer

For a few months I’d been feeling like my photos are mostly shit, and that was down to feeling less connected with whatever was going on around me, and with my anxiety, and the realisation of that anxiety being an actual thing that I needed to deal with.

Since almost the beginning of August I stopped myself drinking anything but water for a solid month. I was curious to see if it’d make me feel any different. I missed tea, a lot (I now have an occasional cup of tea, like once a week maybe?), drinking water was and still is boring, but aside from that it was fine – In fact it’s generally done me a ton of good; my moods are more manageable, I’m less irritable, more rational, I don’t really mind getting out of bed early, and I don’t ache anymore. The only problem being when I was out, I missed alcohol.

It’s easy to think that shooting club nights are just the same night repeated drink after drink, but when they come into their own it’s hard to explain, especially to those who don’t do it. I can look back at certain photos from different nights and remember entire stories of situations that happened on each particular night. Since allowing myself to drink once a week, coinciding wonderfully with me taking party photos and finding a balance and purpose within that chaos, that’s what the past few weeks have been feeling like and that’s what I’ve been missing from my life recently. I feel it coming back and it’s familiar and comforting, and I fucking love it. Looking at some of my party photos, especially recently, I’m feeling good about my photos again.

I’m an anti-social fuck at the best of times, so I need to focus on getting out a little more to surround myself with familiar drunken faces and have a goddamn dance because if everything is as shit as we believe then we may as well feel good about it together.

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Back to the Cathouse

I’d taken a bunch of time off from shooting nightlife due to an unexpected spike in anxiety and depression, and last night marked my first proper night back at the Cathouse in just over a month.

Since I’ve started shooting some loose video blogs for my YouTube channel I thought I’d shoot a bit of content for it.

It was good to be back and be surrounded with a bunch of familiar faces. After the first few drinks it was business as usual, and I’m hoping to get into a good routine with it again.

 

“A Bitch iz a Bitch” – Lisa visits Scarborough.

My pal Lisa came up to visit from London for a couple of days, and I took it upon myself to book us both in for a tattoo at North Sea.

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Here’s Dan, setting up.

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My pal Iain draws the some of the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen, and a few years back when we started getting tattoos together, I began getting his portraits of me on my arm.

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I’ve got another couple lined up, and I’m sure it would be heavily narcissistic if the drawings actually bared any resemblance to me what-so-ever.

Lisa got herself a tiny triangle on her wrist.

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Then it was back to the house for drinks. There might have been a lot of gin, and we drank out of only the finest skull and crossbones cups!

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Then out, and the camera became a bit of a free for all.

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The following morning afternoon, we had a little time to knock about before Lisa had to catch her train, so we had to find a carvery. Thankfully there was a pub around the corner for us to nurse our hangovers.

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It wasn’t long before a drunk local made his presence known informing me “your friend is a ten, my God; Beauty.”, and that his own daughter was a bitch. Over, and over again. He meant no harm, a standard lone drunk in a pub, but I’d have gotten tired of him pretty quick if it wasn’t for Lisa casually dropping N.W.A references in her answers to his constant questioning. After a little chat he left.

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Jeffels joined us afterwards, noticeably less animated. I’m sure he was everyone’s entertainment for almost the entirety of the party the night before.

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I’m no stranger to travelling long distances, so always appreciate it when others put in that kinda time. Having done my fair share of insane journeys in the past I’m painfully aware of how tiring it can be, especially when you’re visiting someone just the one night!

Anyways, I’m sure it won’t be quite as long before we get together next for a bowl of mash and some gin.

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