Bank Holiday!
Yep, it's a bank holiday.
I've decided to pass on the Notting Hill Festival thing, since I woke up today to discover that the twinge in my back has moved North to become a pain in my neck which prevents me from tilting it more than 30 degrees to the right. Rotating isn't that easy either.
But enough grousing, on with the belated blog:
After posting on Saturday night I hung up the towels and jumped on the tube trains to Highbury/Islington. I finally got there about quarter past twelve (about an hour after I left the flat) to discover that the club was actually a big room, kind of like a satanic version of a scout hall, with a stage/sound system at one end, a bar at the other, a niche where the DJ booth was set up to one side of the dancefloor and a few tables around the edges. There were a few flyers on the tables, some of which I picked up (since a flyer would save me a pound on the door, if I ever came back), and strangely black and white balloons scattered around the venue. I counted seventeen people there including DJs.
Had I made another of my famous terrible mistakes? (see last Monday night) Did I give up spending time with family for a dead dud club?
Still the, music was good, and the barmaid told me that it would pick up around midnight. I'm guessing that the Devonshire Arms and Elephants head in Camden had to close first. No wonder slimelight doesn't open til 11.
Sure enough, it did pick up soon after 11. In the meantime I got to know Chris (one of the DJs), who shared my interest in PWEI and early 90s indie dance. He got me moving soon after when he played Chinese Burn by Curve.
Not being a person naturally at ease in most situations (although anyone who has seen me asleep on the floor of a rehearsal room or friends living room may disagree), initially I milled around the edges, sometimes grooving in my own way if I liked the song. At Hardcore shows in the last two years, my once famous two step has been surplanted by my standing with both my dukes up, ready to block any flailing limbs, so I am pretty out of practise dancing, ergo I kept to a rather stiff interpretation of the Hip Hop Robot, occaisionally chatting to the other kids.
That was until the DJ dropped Just One Fix by Ministry, off their famous Psalm 69 album. At that me and most of the people there went nuts on the dancefloor and I began to feel like I hadn't made such a stupid choice after all.
And so it was for the rest of the night: I would chill, dance about to the best cuts, talk to some of the friendliest folk that I have found in London and generally have a great time.
Gross out alert!
The only notable problems were a) the usual problems you get when you dance yourself into a higher rate of aerobic activity and b) the fact that my lower intestines had decided to turn all South Park on me. Energetic Dancing and Borderline Dysentery aren't a great mix, but I was having too much fun to care (even if I did have to take time out in the last hour to lose half my body weight in twenty minutes in the mens room).
The DJs, Chris and Lydia, really kicked arse with their selections: Ministry, KMFDM, pletny of PWEI, some Revolting Cocks and 1000 Homo DJs (I told Chris the funny story about Al Jourgensen nearly getting busted shooting smack while recording Supernaut), Atari Teenage Riot were just starters.
At Midnight a gabba DJ spun a rotterdam Hardcore mix of Happy Birthday, the crowd cheered and clapped and Lydia opened a bottle of champagne onstage. It was a this point that I found out that the club was one year old that night. That explains the balloons.
I stayed to the end (three am), talked to a Australian bloke from Sydney outside, who interestingly shared my disdain for the rank and file of Australians in London and got talking to an Irish guy at the Bus Stop to Soho.
At Leicester square I got a slice of pizza (which inexplicably has gone up one 99p to £1.50 in two day) and wandered over to Oxford and Tottenham Court Road, where I gave in to the temptation presented by the late night Subway.
There I discovered that you can get double meatballs on a sub. How about that. Of course, that meant that I couldn't finish the sub until I arrived home last night, but it tasted good cold.
Just outside the Subway I got talking to a Goan Londoner wearing a Rage Against the Machine hoodie he told me that he got in America. He had actually gone to Ozzfest, where he saw Trivium and Iron Maided, who he considered the greatest metal band ever.
Fascinated by finding that rarest of things, a non-caucasian metal fan, I wandered along Oxford street talking to this guy, way past my bus stop, and for that matter, my bedtime.
Still, just before Bond Street I peeled off to catch the N8. By this time I was painfully aware that my intestines were reaching critical mass again, so I sat at the bus shelter and thought containment thoughts.
Not a minute too soon the bus arrived, I jumped aboard and rode home.
I'll spare the details of the rest of that night, only saying that despite the fact that I had to get up early, I only got to be at six.
***
Up again a 0945, I had showered before going to bed so I just got dressed, ate some fruit and took the tube to Victoria.
Where I missed the 1117 by two minutes. D'oh!
It did give me time to relieve the churning of my innards and look through the WH Smith, where I found an interview with John Irving in a Tattoo Magazine, or all places.
Being that Mum loves John Irving, I thought about picking up the magazine, but I din't know if the would approve of the rest of the content.
The train ride itself was easy enough. Look out the window and play Meshuggah on the Ipod. Read something if I got bored, which I didn't.
I arrived at Barnham about ten to two, had a dodgy hotdog and over the phone Dad told me to catch a cab from the station.
I arrived at Elmer to find Mum, Dad, Pearl, Graham and Pamela having a chicken lunch. I cursed the dodgy Hotdog and my turgid innards, as I felt hardly any appetite for food at that point.
Mary arrived soon after. The rest of the afternoon was relaxed. Mum and Dad had already packed and were just killing time until the Cab arrived at five to take them to Heathrow.
I took the cab ride with them up, looking out the window at the amazing english country villages we passed through.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love England because there are things you see here that you won't see in Australia unless you are watching a Movie or Playing a Video Game.
At some point I told mum about the ridiculous number of South Afrikans in Leytonstone, at which point Mum told me to always use a condom.
For what? I haven't been laid in over a year!
We arrived at Heathrow, Mum and Dad checked in and walked with me down to the tube station. We said our goodbyes until november.
Tube home to the flat and the rest of the sub.
Watched TV, let Masao into the Flat (he had lost his Keys at a gardening job that day) and went to bed.
Yay.
Today: quiet day. No internal churning or gurgling (hurrah)
I put in a winning bid on another KMFDM CD on Ebay, and tomorrow I need to sort out a postal order for that.
Other than that, just going to buy some food and chill out.
Over and out.
J
I've decided to pass on the Notting Hill Festival thing, since I woke up today to discover that the twinge in my back has moved North to become a pain in my neck which prevents me from tilting it more than 30 degrees to the right. Rotating isn't that easy either.
But enough grousing, on with the belated blog:
After posting on Saturday night I hung up the towels and jumped on the tube trains to Highbury/Islington. I finally got there about quarter past twelve (about an hour after I left the flat) to discover that the club was actually a big room, kind of like a satanic version of a scout hall, with a stage/sound system at one end, a bar at the other, a niche where the DJ booth was set up to one side of the dancefloor and a few tables around the edges. There were a few flyers on the tables, some of which I picked up (since a flyer would save me a pound on the door, if I ever came back), and strangely black and white balloons scattered around the venue. I counted seventeen people there including DJs.
Had I made another of my famous terrible mistakes? (see last Monday night) Did I give up spending time with family for a dead dud club?
Still the, music was good, and the barmaid told me that it would pick up around midnight. I'm guessing that the Devonshire Arms and Elephants head in Camden had to close first. No wonder slimelight doesn't open til 11.
Sure enough, it did pick up soon after 11. In the meantime I got to know Chris (one of the DJs), who shared my interest in PWEI and early 90s indie dance. He got me moving soon after when he played Chinese Burn by Curve.
Not being a person naturally at ease in most situations (although anyone who has seen me asleep on the floor of a rehearsal room or friends living room may disagree), initially I milled around the edges, sometimes grooving in my own way if I liked the song. At Hardcore shows in the last two years, my once famous two step has been surplanted by my standing with both my dukes up, ready to block any flailing limbs, so I am pretty out of practise dancing, ergo I kept to a rather stiff interpretation of the Hip Hop Robot, occaisionally chatting to the other kids.
That was until the DJ dropped Just One Fix by Ministry, off their famous Psalm 69 album. At that me and most of the people there went nuts on the dancefloor and I began to feel like I hadn't made such a stupid choice after all.
And so it was for the rest of the night: I would chill, dance about to the best cuts, talk to some of the friendliest folk that I have found in London and generally have a great time.
Gross out alert!
The only notable problems were a) the usual problems you get when you dance yourself into a higher rate of aerobic activity and b) the fact that my lower intestines had decided to turn all South Park on me. Energetic Dancing and Borderline Dysentery aren't a great mix, but I was having too much fun to care (even if I did have to take time out in the last hour to lose half my body weight in twenty minutes in the mens room).
The DJs, Chris and Lydia, really kicked arse with their selections: Ministry, KMFDM, pletny of PWEI, some Revolting Cocks and 1000 Homo DJs (I told Chris the funny story about Al Jourgensen nearly getting busted shooting smack while recording Supernaut), Atari Teenage Riot were just starters.
At Midnight a gabba DJ spun a rotterdam Hardcore mix of Happy Birthday, the crowd cheered and clapped and Lydia opened a bottle of champagne onstage. It was a this point that I found out that the club was one year old that night. That explains the balloons.
I stayed to the end (three am), talked to a Australian bloke from Sydney outside, who interestingly shared my disdain for the rank and file of Australians in London and got talking to an Irish guy at the Bus Stop to Soho.
At Leicester square I got a slice of pizza (which inexplicably has gone up one 99p to £1.50 in two day) and wandered over to Oxford and Tottenham Court Road, where I gave in to the temptation presented by the late night Subway.
There I discovered that you can get double meatballs on a sub. How about that. Of course, that meant that I couldn't finish the sub until I arrived home last night, but it tasted good cold.
Just outside the Subway I got talking to a Goan Londoner wearing a Rage Against the Machine hoodie he told me that he got in America. He had actually gone to Ozzfest, where he saw Trivium and Iron Maided, who he considered the greatest metal band ever.
Fascinated by finding that rarest of things, a non-caucasian metal fan, I wandered along Oxford street talking to this guy, way past my bus stop, and for that matter, my bedtime.
Still, just before Bond Street I peeled off to catch the N8. By this time I was painfully aware that my intestines were reaching critical mass again, so I sat at the bus shelter and thought containment thoughts.
Not a minute too soon the bus arrived, I jumped aboard and rode home.
I'll spare the details of the rest of that night, only saying that despite the fact that I had to get up early, I only got to be at six.
***
Up again a 0945, I had showered before going to bed so I just got dressed, ate some fruit and took the tube to Victoria.
Where I missed the 1117 by two minutes. D'oh!
It did give me time to relieve the churning of my innards and look through the WH Smith, where I found an interview with John Irving in a Tattoo Magazine, or all places.
Being that Mum loves John Irving, I thought about picking up the magazine, but I din't know if the would approve of the rest of the content.
The train ride itself was easy enough. Look out the window and play Meshuggah on the Ipod. Read something if I got bored, which I didn't.
I arrived at Barnham about ten to two, had a dodgy hotdog and over the phone Dad told me to catch a cab from the station.
I arrived at Elmer to find Mum, Dad, Pearl, Graham and Pamela having a chicken lunch. I cursed the dodgy Hotdog and my turgid innards, as I felt hardly any appetite for food at that point.
Mary arrived soon after. The rest of the afternoon was relaxed. Mum and Dad had already packed and were just killing time until the Cab arrived at five to take them to Heathrow.
I took the cab ride with them up, looking out the window at the amazing english country villages we passed through.
I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love England because there are things you see here that you won't see in Australia unless you are watching a Movie or Playing a Video Game.
At some point I told mum about the ridiculous number of South Afrikans in Leytonstone, at which point Mum told me to always use a condom.
For what? I haven't been laid in over a year!
We arrived at Heathrow, Mum and Dad checked in and walked with me down to the tube station. We said our goodbyes until november.
Tube home to the flat and the rest of the sub.
Watched TV, let Masao into the Flat (he had lost his Keys at a gardening job that day) and went to bed.
Yay.
Today: quiet day. No internal churning or gurgling (hurrah)
I put in a winning bid on another KMFDM CD on Ebay, and tomorrow I need to sort out a postal order for that.
Other than that, just going to buy some food and chill out.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 6:01 pm
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