Rachel Stevens

[Actually, this wasn't the best of ideas.]

Thursday's gig went really well. You can find some pictures of us on www.charliebullitt.tk. I'm still skinnying a little at a time, and my voice keeps improving gig to gig. Unfortunately, there aren't many good pictures on that website. We do have a fan who takes really good pictures, but unfortunately she hasn't been at the last few gigs, so this other fan (who comes to everything, despite being underage) will have to do. We did a festival or two in Cornwall over the summer - it's where Jon and Murray come from originally, so it was really nice to spend some time down there. It's also where I first met them, so it's good to return to old haunts and enjoy ourselves. We're all pretty chilled out, so time seems to be flying at the moment. I want our next gig to be soon, though :/

I went out tonight and danced to 'Don't Stop Movin'. It was quite an embarrassing moment. Then I almost fell over and bruised my arm. I also drank a fair amount, but, weirdly, felt completely sober all night. This makes no sense. I definitely drank enough to make me even a little tipsy, and yet I never felt anywhere near that.

RE: the below photo. If Jon wasn't gay, and some of those women weren't rabid stalkers, I'd be there in a flash. Which reminds me that I haven't seen him in forever.

Back in 2003, I spent every spare moment I had chastising myself for the way I lived my life. I lost and put on weight willy-nilly, fucked around with my friends' affections, upset men, women, you name it, and eventually got to a point where I was so unhappy with myself that, having lost a whole bunch of friends, I then fucked around the ones I had left. I cannot even express in words how awful that was for everyone concerned, at least, looking back on it now, it's what it seems. I obsessed over my relationship, and then insulted everyone else into submission. Strangely for someone my age, I couldn't reconcile my sexuality to myself, and spent a lot of time messing various beautiful ladies around.

It's 2005 now. I know I'm probably not someone you'd expect to resurface, but, by God, I'm happy. My name is Paul Cattermole. I used to be in a pop group called S Club. Admittedly, nowadays, I'm not particularly proud of that, but I'm not ashamed, either, since most of my friends on here came from loving that group. All my weight problems have gone, now. I'm happy with myself. I'm a bit chubby, but I don't care. I'm really happy. If you don't believe me, just come to one of my band's gigs. We're called Charlie Bullitt. My guitarist is the amazing Murray, with Jon, his brother, on bass, and Joel Clements on drums. They're all incredibly talented. You'll see how fucking happy I am, if you come down. Gigs are cheap and in London. We sing rock music, 99.9% our own stuff, with a couple of covers thrown in for good measure - current favourite is Pinball Wizard. Our manager's a bit shit, takes eons to deal with interviews, keeps saying 'you'll be signed any day', when we know that's a while off, if at all. Of course, I'd love to get signed, but I'm equally happy doing this. This is my full time job. Okay, so I'm not filming 5 things a day, and I'm not signed to a huge record label faffing around there, but this is brilliant. I play the music I love, and I live my own life according to how I want - ie. smoking dope and not getting caught by the paps! Or attacking Hannah in parks.

There's a Charlie Bullitt community on LJ if you want to take a look at some more recent pictures - charliebullitt.

I hope to hang around. Whether I do depends entirely on what happens in the next few weeks, here. The lady in the icon is Lara, btw. She was in a group called Wild, which my good friend Shaz sings in - check out Wild@Pop to get more information.


PS. "Brownies" get you in my good books. Yes, that is 'special brownies'. Or normal brownies. I like both :D

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I'm updating this, but HURRAH FOR ME, I am. I doubt this signals the return of TehPaul, but just to let you all know, I'm fabulous, Charlie Bullitt are wonderful, we're doing REALLY well, I love it. I'm so happy, everything is amazing and wonderful and great, and has been for the past year. I'm a bit of a stoner, but exquisitely well meaning.

I am sorry I was such a grump back in 2003, I really did myself no favours. Fucking hell, I could have dated the most amazing women, and I just screwed you all around. I hope you haven't all become raving lezzers, that would make Paul a very sad bloke.

If you want to get hold of me, im mbp generic sn or comment here.

Dreamysigh Scarlett Johansson. <3 I was such a cunt to you. Can you ever forgive me?

This is a special update for Jericho, the best civilian around. Happy birthday, gorgeous. Hope you have an amazing day *loves*

Fuck everything.

I want to kick something. Extremely fucking hard.

Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now

Crazy skies all wild above me now
Winter howling at my face
And everything I held so dear
Disappeared without a trace
Oh all the times I've tasted love
Never knew quite what I had
Little Darling if you hear me now
Never needed you so bad
Spinning round inside my head

I've been talking drunken gibberish
I've been punching at the bars
Trying to find some explanation here
For the way some people are
How did it ever come so far

Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now
Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now

I'm really pissed off *grumps about* I just missed Jon. *moans in annoyance* *stomps about the room*

Look at the size of those....*ahem*

All Madonna-like.

These are weirdly cut. But still pretty.

*strikes a pose*

A post devoted to my incestuous cross-dressing twit of a Twin... Love you, Carl.

It's the slight touch when we're sitting there watching television together, the way I turn my head and look at him, his lips, the invisible chemistry. It's something undefinable, but something so amazing I can't even describe it properly. We're not fucking, contrary to public opinion, we're not having passionate moments up against the stairs. We're talking, we're taking it one day at a time.

He took me out for dinner the other night. Made it exactly like a proper date. He said he would before I left for Cali. He's made good. As ever.

Jon Lee is my life. He's swallowed me whole and there's no way I'm going to get out. It's like an addiction, but a good addiction. Worries me a little sometimes, but what can you do when the addiction is a beautiful man? Exactly, nothing.

Sorry about all these sappy posts. Sometime I'll post something that doesn't involve me loving my boyfriend. When that will be, I don't know.

I've been talking to Scarlett a lot recently. This cute girl is very very funny and we clicked immediately. And it doesn't hurt that she's my twin. *waves* Hey Carl.

<3 Emmanuelle, Rain and Amanda.

The length of the plane journey from LAX to Gatwick is exceptionally long. Luckily, I slept most of the way, waken only by the stewardess when she served me a meal. All my friends know how much I love food, but this time I really wasn’t in the mood. I managed to get it down, but I wanted to sleep as much as possible, because I was extremely scared about seeing Jon again. It’d been a couple of weeks and although we’d talked things through, of course I was justifiably a little nervous. When the plane touched down I steeled myself and walked out. It was getting dark, and stepping across the runway felt like something of an eternity. I got through Customs without any problems, and slowly went out through the Departures gate. He was there. Standing well back from the main crush of people, he had a black cap pulled down over his face and was dressed in a black polo neck and dark blue jeans. His arms were crossed and he was rubbing his eyes. The plane had been delayed by an hour or so, so he’d obviously been waiting a long time and was tired. I wanted to run over to him and kiss him until he gasped for breath, but I had to hold myself in. He hadn’t seen me. I smiled a little and half walked, half ran over to him and stopped in front of him. ‘Hi.’ He looked up and saw me and the most beautiful expression appeared on his face. ‘Hi.’ He took hold of my luggage and we went out to the car park. As soon as we got outside, I felt his fingers touch my hand and then drop away. Things felt positive. A good start. ‘I missed you,’ he whispered. We got into the car and drove steadily until we reached his house. I couldn’t have got back to St Albans or to the house in London, as I was almost out of it by this point, and I promised him that I would come and see him when I would get back. Jet lag and exhaustion from the night before had combined to form an extreme pressure that was forcing my eyes shut, even though I wanted to stay awake and talk to him. He kept saying things but I would have to ask him to repeat them three or four times, because I was so tired that I wasn’t really getting anything that he was saying. When we pulled up at the house, I tumbled out of the side of the car and blindly followed him inside, clutching on to his hand as he tugged me in. ‘We’ll leave the luggage till the morning,’ he murmured. He’d made up the sofa for me, covered it in pillows and a duvet. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said. ‘Talk in the morning?’ I nodded and he went upstairs, closing the door after him. I fumbled with the buttons on my clothes and managed to get them all off after about twenty minutes of trying. Flopped onto the sofa, pulled up the covers and was out like a light.

When I woke up in the late morning, a little light was shining through the curtains. I was achy and still jet-lagged. The door creaked open and Jon crept in, obviously not realising I was awake, as I was on my side. He left a pair of shorts and a big T-shirt on the floor next to the sofa. He stood for a few minutes just watching, then crept out again with the clothes I’d taken off the previous night. A while later, I got out of bed, bones cracking, feeling, truthfully, like a bag of shit. Put on the clothes that he’d left for me and gingerly walked out into the hall and through to the kitchen. He was sitting watching Dawson’s Creek on the small television there. ‘Morning,’ I croaked at him. He handed me a cup of tea and a croissant. A very Jon breakfast. ‘Thanks,’ I said and smiled at him. He smiled back and the spark flashed again. There’s still everything to do, a lot to make up, to say and feel and express, but things might just be okay. In fact, I really think they will be. I can’t imagine not sorting things out with him. He’s my boyfriend. My boyfriend. I love the sound of that. The heartache of not being with him has gone.