Hooray!

Hooray, the review is up.

Re-reading it I spotted a couple of easily avoided errors, but in the main it's pretty good.

Other news:

KMFDM rocked last night.

The supports were a bit ordinary, but the Headliners were amazing. They seriously make almost every other Industrial/metal outfit look like posers.

Except Ministry. But I haven't seen Ministry play for nearly 10 years.

Sascha was Brilliant. Lucia has more stage presence in her Pinky finger than most performers have in their whole bodies and the two guitarists plus drummer were great in their own rights.

The drum kit itself was behind a persplex barrier, presumably to allow the sound engineer better control over the levels it produced. As far as I could see, the drummer was a hard hitter. Said barrier did give them impression that I had wandered onto the set of the Letterman Show.

The supports, as I said, were a bit ordinary. D Model: their lead singer was a good performer but her vocals were shrill and at times tuneless. Their music was just the wrong side of Nu-Metal and the riffs and beats weren't terribly exciting.

Panic DHH were trying to do interesting things, but the things they did do that were good other people do much better. Like Cult of Luna for the doomy bits, Trail of the Dead for the ferocious noise-outs etc.

Didn't do much today.

I have to go.

Over and out.

J

Happy Birthday to Me

Hey blogarians,

I'm tapping away before Six PM (which should be 7 PM but Daylight Saving time just ended in the UK... Being from Brisbane these things confuse me).

In any case, at six I'm jumping on the next tube to Kings Cross where I am going to see German/American industrial legends KMFDM. Yay!

I did go to Strength Through Joy last night. I would have been there by about 10PM but I started watching a TV show about the evolution of horror movies that distracted me for about two hours. I think it was still going when I left.

As such, I didn't make it to Highbury Corner until just after midnight.

When I got to STJ I was initially disappointed to see that the new flyers didn't actually have my artwork.

Chris (one of the organisers, Lydia being in Austria DJing at some Goth/Industrial Enormo-Club) explained that to economise they print all the flyers for a three month period. Ergo my Logo (which he still insists that he loves) will be featured in the run of flyers made available in January.

Which is good, even if I did want a hard copy to send home with my Dad.

Nevermind.

I'm 29 today, and I keep forgetting that it is my Birthday.

Could be related to there not really being anyone around to remind me of said fact, but what can you do. Clyo was nice enough to send a note (thanks Clyo). Both my parents called up at different times of the day (thanks Parents).

Other than that, I'm feeling a little adrift. But I guess that you could call it Post Late Night Lethargy.

It's dead on six, but I think I'll blog a little more.

There's a few things that I meant to write in yesterday that I forgot to.

First of all, yesterday I actually pulled out the cheap USB Midi Controller that I bought something like two months back. Plugged it into the Laptop and hey presto, it worked.

I fired up Cubase and had a play with the sounds and samples on my harddrive. I didn't actually record anything of note, but it was fun.

And just to satify a curiousity, I fired up Garageband next. For those who aren't music tech nerds (even lousy ones like me) Garageband is a sequencer/recorder thing that comes bundled with OS X something or other.

Here's where it gets bizarre: the sounds and instruments that come bundled with Garageband are actually superior to those that come bundled with Cubase. True, I did buy the entry level version of Cubase, and true, Steinberg might have a vested interest in making sure that the creators of Third Party Plugins don't feel muscled out of their racket by their symbiotic partners.

But still, it is kind of weird to find that the Bundleware programme has much better synths, strings and whatnot than something that people actually have to pay for.

Nevermind, sometime I'm thinking of buying an Arturia emulation of a Mini-Moog anyway. Something that can produce what my friend Lorena called the Full Cream Bass Sound, that surly, snarly analogue sound that makes people sit up and listen.

Other thing: I had a look at the fasterlouder.com.au website to see if my review was up yet (it wasn't, making me feel a little nervous - I didn't have time/presence of mind to keep a copy for myself), but I wound up reading reviews for a band called Flamingo Crash, that my old friend Marcel is in.

Doing that I actually found that the attributes system is useful when you are trying to find all the reviews etc about a particular band.

Which is great. But I still find the system hard to navigate under the gun.

In any case, I've got to hustle if I'm going to make it to King's Cross in time for the supports.

Over and out.

J

Yeah, Yeah, I know...

I've been neglecting my evil empire in Blogland.

I've been busy, okay.

And disorganized.

And last night I was putting the finishing touches on that I Killed the Prom Queen show review.

The review I actually got sorted pretty quickly, and though it was over three pages written longhand, it actually came in nicely under 700 words.

What took the time was actually getting it up onto the Faster Louder site for their approval.

Hmm. I hope it went through. There is some kind of weird system of adding attributes so that stuff can be cross referenced for the purposes of databasing or some such. What it really serves to do is give frazzled contributors like me a headache, as we try to navigate a system that has no visible relation to any skill we've honed as writers.

Not to be dissing your system, Monika, I just find it hard to Parse when I'm running out of time in the net cafe.

Dad called from The Isle of Wight this morning. We're going to hook up on Tuesday.

The new flatmate, a Swede with a Balkan name, is apparently moving in proper some time this week.

After I finish here I'm going to get changed to go dancing at Strength Through Joy.

Other news from my light-on-blogging week:

My mother tells me that my brother Gus is moving to Sydney for a Microsoft job soon.

Nice.

Apparently Elea is moving there soon too.

Cool.

I went the the Devonshire Arms in Camden on Thursday night for the fortnightly Spite night that some of the writers from Terrorizer run.

Met some kids from Poland, a post-graduate law-student wearing a bullet-belt, and also ran into my friend Alistair, a DVD producer/Televisual Media dude from Sydney who is heading back there sometime in the next twelve days. He's pretty cool.

Richie from Terrorizer turned up later. Chatted to him. All good.

I wound up leaving somewhere around half eleven.

Friday night I just wound up chilling at home.

Also: I've re-started my long overdue reading of the Transmetropolitan Comic trade paperbacks (I lulled for no good reason. It would take too long to explain.)

And damn it's good.

Speaking of which, I followed my nose from the Warren Ellis site to this designer:

http://www.rblack.org/

Whose style I dig.

In any case, I am about to be turfed out of here again.

Over and out.

J

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Yep, I haven't blogged for about two or three days.

Monday Night I was at I Killed the Prom Queen and yesterday I was just disorganized.

By the by, Prom Queen was pretty damn good and I will be reviewing it as such for Fasterlouder.com.au

In fact, I spent this afternoon writing a rough review longhand. It did come out pretty long, and since it can only be 700 words I will have to trim it a bit. But so far it seems pretty good.

Sometime I need to get a haircut, since my hair is getting a bit unruly. I'm really tempted to buzz it all off.

My brain isn't working right now. I'm having one of those fuzzy mind-states I get from time to time. This computer's tendency to slow down to a crawl repeatedly isn't helping.

No matter.

Hmm. Other news:

Sunday night I was feeling bored, so I took the 257 up to Stratford and saw Corpse Bride.

I was planning to see Corpse Bride at one of the huge theatres in Leicester Square, but the sound in those places is always too trebly in any case. There is plenty of bass, of course, but for some reason a high end hiss seems to accompany the dialogue.

In any case, Corpse Bride was brilliant. There was just a little of the 'Oh God, It's a Musical' Cringe feeling that you get. It did take me a minute to convince myself that I wasn't watching a bizarre Christmas/Easter Morning animated special (those readers who refuse to watch TV will have no idea what I mean).

But visually Corpse Bride is amazing, the animation is seamless and the Danny Elfman music is brilliant. So, if you haven't seen it, go see it.

But see Serenity first.

I'm supposed to go see Van Lustbader in Notting Hill tonight.

Better get moving.

Over and Out.

J

Quiet night, quiet day.

Not much to report.

It isn't as cold as it has been this week, but the Meterological Whoevers are predicting the coldest winter in ten years.

Although I think that's what they predicted last year. And it was one of the warmest.

Tonight I'll throw some clothes in the washer and iron the ones that were washed yesterday.

Fun.

At ten last night BBC 1 or 2, I can't remember which, were playing a new episode of a cartoon called Family Guy (I think it's called that), followed by a bizarre satire cartoon called American Dad.

Family Guy, as far as I understand it, is an interesting case in the modern world of cartoons, since it was cancelled by DVD sales forced an executive rethink and the eventual restart of production.

As far as I understand it, a similar thing happened with Futurama, but I'm not sure.

Anyways, it's just gone 7PM so everyone is about to get turfed out of here, including me.

Over and out.

J

Eh Up!

Hey Blogicians.

It's been a pretty quiet last two days.

Unless you count the continual media tension about Bird Flu.

Having had actual flu for this week and some of the last, I'm feeling ambivalent about it all.

Hannah, the Alec Empire fan that I know invited me round on Thursday Night to co-write a review of the Alec Empire show that I went to.

From that experience I learned a couple of things: first of all, I can compose a sentence with some clarity, and I can spell. Which, as I seem to continually find, puts me head and shoulders above most people in the UK.

Secondly, when it comes to reviews, I am not a co-writing person. I am too much of an Auteur. And I guess I always have been.

There is a page in one of the Transmetropolitan Comics that I have read where Spider Jerusalem satisfies a bet between himself and one of his assistants that his editor can't breathe under water by binding his editor to something heavy at the bottom of a Pond. The last line on the page goes something like 'I'll teach you to rewrite me.'

A rather extreme response, but one I can understand.

On the other hand, anyone who has read this blog would recognise that I do tend to write in a stream of consciousness, and the material would sometimes benefit from a touch of jucious editing.

True, but I'll be the one to rewrite it.

I must still have the flu.
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I've been reading more of the Bill Hicks Book. The book about Bill Hicks.

I might have mentioned my gripes previously. That being that half of the hilarity of a Bill Hicks routine was the rhythm and energy of Bill's delivery.

Since the writer seems to have transcribed most of the routines as one long paragraph, the rhythm is pretty much lost.

So reading the routines isn't as funny as hearing them, even more so if you've never heard the routine before.

Ergo I'm now skipping over the transcribed routines and reading interviews and articles which have been included in the book, and I'm making mental notes to try to get my mittens on some proper Bill Hicks CDs.

Yep, that's something that I miss about Band Rehearsals. Between playing songs and arguing over song parts and lyrics, we would sometimes reconvene to Jule's car and listen to the Bill Hicks CDs he had, frequently hurting ourselves laughing.

I'm toying with the idea of going to see Tim Burton's Corpse Bride after this.

Or I might do it tomorrow night.

In terms of going to see stuf I seem to have a busy week next week.

Monday night I think I'll see I Killed the Prom Queen, just because it'll make for an easy show review that fits the criteria for Faster Louder (ie they come from Adelaide, so I can review them). All I'll have to do is talk about their fringes, mention that Crafter is a Vegan AND a Homophobe and talk about the fact that their competently played melodic Death Metal style hardcore with Breakdowns is being played by everyone and their dog right now.

Neato.

26th or 27th Dad arrives in the UK.

29th Strength Through Joy. Old School Industrial fun and they might have the new flyers printed.

30th Happy Birthday to me and rocking out at KMFDM's London show. Groovy.

Other news: the Venetian Snares CD I bought is amazing.

IDM (that's Intelligent Dance Music) can be a pretty dry affair, all self-satisfied earnest assumptions of cool and deliberate inaccessibility because it's like, y'know, electronic, dude.

Not so this CD. To start with the beat programming sounds like a gunfight in a cartoon factory. Drill n Bass (ie Drum n Bass on crack) is usually a vicious and jarring sound. This is more like leprechauns bouncing around on a sampler keyboard in the manner of a classic Disney cartoon than having your face torn off by industrial machinery.

There is a sense of humour that pervades the entire CD. Something spritely and witty, possibly comparable to Mozart at his quirkiest. (yes, I know I just compared a Canadian laptop jockey with Mozart... I'm pretentious, all right?)

I couldn't find it at Virgin when I bought the CD, but the last Venetian Snares album goes under the title 'Winnipeg is a Frozen Shithole'.

And every songtitle is a continuation of the theme established in the album title.

Follow the white rabbit: http://www.venetiansnares.com/

Juvenile? Puerile?

Sometimes, so was Mozart.

In any case, this net cafe just got really noisy. Time for me to leave.

Over and out.

J

And the beat goes on...

After posting last night I got a message from my compatriot Paul, who plays in VanLustbader, the band that relocated to South London from Brisbane a few months after I arrived.

VL were playing a club on Oxford Street and my name was on the door.

I hummed and harred about it, since I was supposed to be focusing purely on recovery, but I decided to go see them, since I seemed to have missed every other show that they have played around London.

Their set was pretty good. More rock than I expected (they were much more Manchesterish back in Australia), and their singer managed to cut his hand and bleed all over his Gretch White Falcon.

Got a call from Mum almost immediately afterwards. That was nice.

I got home and ironed two shirts before hunkering down to watch some TV before bed.

I wound up watching this bizarre Cronenberg (is there any other kind) movie called 'Dead Ringers' with Jeremy Irons, about identical twin Oby/Gyn Doctors and their spiral into madness and drug addiction. Completely deranged.

Kind of made me glad that my father and his brother went into Anaesthesia.

Seven in the morning I had to let Masao in, since he had already handed in his key.

I wonder if that is the last I'll ever see of him.

Later I got up properly, finished ironing the work clothes from the previous week, finished eating the steak I fried up the night before and pondered my next move.

Which was to go to Stratford and buy a Kerrang and 2000AD, like I always do on Wednesdays.

I had a hankering to go to the Virgin Megastore, as well as check out the Borders on Oxford Street and Charing Cross Road to try to find a hard-to-locate magazine.

No luck at either one, but I think I am actually right for reading material right now.

I did buy a Venetian Snares cd at Virgin, though.

Canadian Drill n Bass. Should be cool.

I went to an Amon Tobin show about six months ago. Amon Tobin being the Brazilian Epic Drill n Bass producer who relocated to England before relocating to Canada.

The show he did was a showcase of the work he had done on the soundtrack for the game Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory.

And it was brilliant.

Green Lasers every which way.

The people next door to the net caff are playing Pink Floyd again.

And it is nearly nine O'clock. Nearly time for us Webflies to be kicked out and sent back to out own homes.

Such is life.

Tomorrow I will clean my room, because I just realised, at one of the Borders, that I was considering buying a magazine when I already owned a copy.

And so exit Caesar.

Over and Out.

J

Health wise: Getting better

Otherwise, same as always.

Yesterday I could feel my head exploding with every step, with every change in light etc.

Today I woke up still feeling like crap but well enough to throw some clothes in the wash and jump on a Bus to Stratford to pay my rent (which reminds me, I had better pull those clothes out and hang them up).

My bones still hurt.

My head still hurts.

I can breathe through my nose, which is an improvement. Last night I actually had to make sure I had my mouth open when I fell asleep.

For reasons unknown I am insanely hungry all the time. I just want to eat and eat and eat.

After paying my rent I went to Stratford Library and borrowed a book on Taoism and The Naked Lunch by William Burroughs. I also picked up a notice that the Library was looking for staff. Hmm. I might apply. Could be worse.

Working in a Library could be boring, I guess. I used to argue that I wanted a boring job because my personal life was crazy enough.

Now I don't seem to have a personal life, crazy or otherwise. It is not the not having that comes from no room for a personal life, it is the not having akin to trying to light a fire using a broken Bic lighter and wet newspaper.

Whinge!

Okay, enough of that.

Masao moves out tomorrow. I reckon I'm going to miss the crazy little japanese dude. Though I will say that conversation wasn't his strong suit.

I started reading The Naked Lunch on the bus back to Leytonstone.

I'd already read half of the introduction on a previous occaision, so I started reading where I left off.

And where I left off it started getting very strange. Weird turns of phrase, crypto-conversational ramblings and the like. I wondered whether this was some of William Burroughs' famous cut-up style at work, and I imagined that I could see the seams where he had sellotaped sentences together.

Weird.

I think it is going to be one of those books that will be able to make me feel sick. Not by being nauseatingly graphic and disgusting, but just by the disorientating nature of the writing.

I'm going to keep at it.

Over and out.

J

About to be booted...

Gotta make this fast.

I didn't go anywhere today, least of all Camberwell, because I am really fucking sick.

Splitting headache, bunged up, fully fucked.

But I am still in good spirits.

Checking my mail tonight I found out that Lydia from Strength Through Joy did receive the Logo Artwork that I emailed her.

Thank God for that.

Apparently the artwork goes to press tomorrow, so my work should be in print again pretty soon.

I'm overtime at the Net Caff, so I really need to hustle out of here.

Over and out.

J

I'm already feeling better:

Thanks very much to Mum and Dad for the phone call and to Clyo for the message of support, I'm feeling much better, thanks.

I mean, I'm still feeling sick, but that is nothing to do with the job and everything to do with this lousy headcold/flu that I picked up at work (wait, that's something to do with work... screw it, I've never made sense before, why start now).

The Killing Joke show made me feel a bit better, even though I did have a knucklehead singing along loudly and off key right next to my ear (I was one deep from the barrier).

I was a little let down that I didn't run into Chris or Lydia so's that I could pass them the disc with the cleaned up logo, which I really should put up here somehow.

Gus: if you're reading this, pass me an email explaining how I can set up an image dump or gallery or something where I can keep photos etc online. Photobucket or whatever you use.

Anyways, I had a cheeseburger and caught the next train to Highbury to go to Sick and Twisted, upstairs at the Garage (and yes, across the road from the courthouse).

Sick and Twisted turned out to be really good. Nicely full but not rammed, a little on the loud and smoky side, but that's a club for you. When I got there a hooded figure was on stage, hunched over a laptop and what I later discovered was a special interface surface USB'd into the laptop.

He was making some brilliant chopped up Noise/Breaks. The hood had blue lights in it so that he looked a little like an overtall Jawa from the first Star Wars Movie (speaking obliquely of Star Wars, everone: Go See Serenity. And if you've seen it, see it again!).

Occaisionally a girl would get up and scream into a conveniently placed microphone. I later found out that she performs under the name Hecate. Later on she was wearing a Darkthrone shirt and I was wearing the Bleeding Through shirt I came in with, making it two of the most inappropriate shirts in there (though the prize has to go to the kid wearing a Wildhearts hoodie). She told me that she remixed Bleeding Through during her DJ set. I told her that I like the members of the band but I don't like the way the singer incites the crowd to violence during the set. I'm a pussycat and I don't like being kicked.

She laughed playfully elbowed me in the chest and exited. Later on she would punch me in the torso then slap my cheek lightly. The vain side thinks that she liked me. The rest of me just suspects that she likes hitting people.

Other interesting stuff: I got to meet two writers for Terrorizer. Alex Boniwell, who writes about a lot of the Electronic stuff and Richie, as far as I can tell an old school thrash and death fan who also likes epic electronic and orchestral pieces.

After the club closed a couple of anglo/french kids who were at the club and Richie were waiting for the 43 to take us all down to the West End where we could catch our various buses to our destinations. Turns out that Richie can speak fluent French, and he carried on conversations with the kids about the music they were in to and what shows they were going to go to.

Fortunately the five years of French I did at Churchie enabled me, if not to participate, to follow the conversation pretty well. Especially since it is reasonably easy to follow a conversation which seems to consist of band names, tourdates and a lot of swearing.

Still, Richie seemed impressed enough with my knowledge of Metal, Hardcore and various kinds of electronic music, as well as by my interest in maybe one day writing for Terrorizer, so he gave me his email address. Cool.

Considering that it has been one of my ongoing missions to get to know the local music journalists, I felt that I had scored a pretty good prize.

Today: Talked to Mum and Dad on the phone. Mum convinced me that I really should hold out for something better than Camberwell.

Went to Stratford to pay the rent and missed the bank by five minutes. D'oh. Guess I'm paying the rent on Monday. I messaged my Landlady who told me that was cool.

Not much else. Boiled some pasta for lunch and threw towels in the wash.

While the towels spun I listened to the CD on the latest Terrorizer and started to read the book about Bill Hicks that I picked up in Borders in Angel on Friday (one of the things I did in my immediate daze).

The book is fascinating. If I finish it in time I might send it home with Dad to pass on to my friend Jules, who has no doubt already read it.

I reckon Elea would love it, in any case.

I've spent too long in here today.

Over and out.

J

I don't work at Highbury Corner any more.

I don't have enough time to type in the details, but this morning there was an incident when I called on a triple-hander without realising that one of the defendants and his counsel was in the ante-chamber just outside the courtroom, temporarily throwing the courtroom into disarray.

The Clerk actually descended from his desk to tell me off about calling people on when they are not in the room, and the next thing I know another list caller is taking over my list and sending me downstairs, where I was told, by one of the Supervisors, that the Magistrates had collectively decided that I just wasn't learning fast enough, and that it was time to let me go.

So I filled out my timesheet, picked up my stuff, said goodbye to some people and left.

I wandered down to Angel feeling benumbed, when I realised that I had left my phone hidded under the list caller's desk in the courtroom, and I had go back and retrieve it.

I said goodbye to the ones I didn't see before, and left again.

That was all before lunch.
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I feel, in different measures: angry, depressed, betrayed, frustrated with myself that I couldn't make it work, upset with a situation that I feel didn't give me a fair chance, stupid for not handing in that application to Borders and relieved that I have enough money to pay rent for this month and eat for the next two weeks.

Being a person that keeps most of my emotions pretty tightly under control most of the time (anyone who thinks that I'm emotional would truly be shocked if I expressed everything that was happening inside me), I have managed to maintain for most of the afternoon.

There is only one thought that causes the wheel to slide beneath my hands:

Dad, I've let you down again.

I know. Pathetic self pity, the kind I can do without. And I know that my parents still love me etc. It just would have been nice to hold down this job longer. Long enough to make a dignified exit, into something better.

But it is not all bleak.

I called Diamond, and they believe that they will be able to find me something very soon, if not for Monday.

The possibility they presented me with was another courthouse, working in the office, in Camberwell.

Same money, longer travelling.

If I do it, I'll only do it until I can find something better.

It is clear now that the concepts of Loyalty and Honour belong to a language not spoken in London.

I'm going out to see Killing Joke.

I'm going to go out, have fun and do some thinking.

And tomorrow I'm getting up early, pay the rent at the Nationwide Bank at Stratford and flesh out some more on what went wrong, what I learned and what I'm going to do next.

I'm down. But I'm not out.

Over and out.

J

101 Posts, not out.

One Hundred and one posts.

Nice.

Today was a gruelling day, though it wasn't the worst day I've had by a long shot.

It probably wasn't even the worst day I've had this week.

Still, here's the skinny.

I was only ten minutes late for work.

I get to work to discover that I've been switched into court three.

Sweet, I think. An easy day.

Little do I know that all the overnights and Narey's from the building are going into my court.

Overnights and Nareys are the two most random types of cases. Getting them on and moving is like putting together a Jigsaw Puzzle by juggling the pieces.

What was supposed to be a list which would be finished by 1PM actually spun out to half five.

Sheesh.

At least I was getting paid for it.

Lousy pay, but paid the same.

Elaine is back from holiday. She seems to be half proud, half surprised to see that I am still here.

Anj is going on holiday soon.

Two weeks to get ready for the Indian version of Christmas, or something.

Here's a note: right now, at Haff's Net Caff, the neighbours are playing the White Stripes.

Usually they play Pink Floyd.

Back to the story.

Nothing really amazing happened today, with the possible exception of me living through it.

The Northern Line is out, so half the staff were later than me.

I didn't leave the building till it was nearly six.

I guess this isn't the most coherent blog.

I've got to go.

I'm going to go see Alec Empire play, and I still have to get changed.

Over and out.

J

Gabba Gabba Hey

Hey Blogophites.

Interesting past 24 hrs.

Eschewing all logical courses of action, last night I made my way to the University Of London Union Bar (or ULU, pronounced YOO-LOO) and saw Queen Adreena play a set.

And despite arriving fashionably last and the venue being full of Indie Hipster Students, the show was great.

Seriously. One of those shows which reminds you what a good live band is actually supposed to look like.

The band were tighter than I expected, with more swing and groove but still with a deranged punk/blues edge. But the real star of the show (besides Crispin Gray the guitarist) was Katie Jane Garside, who was pretty damn amazing as a frontwoman.

There were downsides to the gig... aformentioned Student Hipsters, some of whom were convinced they were badass because they were 17 and drinking in a licenced venue. A burly bloke in a Slayer shirt who insisted on making his own shove pit and crowd surfing, stage diving fat girls. With big shoes.

I've always stuck by the theory that if you are above a certain size or more than a certain weight, stage diving and crowd surfing is a stupid thing to do. And I believe that does extend to girls.

Still I had a great time.

And I got home by midnight. Just.

Today I managed to get to work on time. Just.

And I even had time for a shower today. Hooray.

Work itself was an interesting affair (although when I have I had anything resembling a day entirely devoid of interesting occurrences(sp?) in this job).

Basically most of the clerks were in a meeting in Westminster to discuss some really important point of Law or something. As in every Clerk in London. So every overnight in North London was sent to Highbury, and only two courts were operating.

And guess who was operating in one of those two courtrooms?

Bingo.

Every court in North London.

And most of them didn't actually send the right documents until the last minute.

So the court didn't actually get underway until 1100 or 1130.

And guess who had to calm the baying hordes?

Miraculously I managed to pull most of it through and lived through the morning.

The afternoon was supposed to be a training day, but because the overnight list was still going I had to keep the court going while the rest of the staff in the building (plus the list caller in the other court) did what I later found out was a Murder Mystery Afternoon Team Building Exercise.

I'm not sure whether I'm sorry I missed it.

In the courtroom I got to see a man who had been harassing and threatening his ex girlfriend get sent down for some hard time. Gratifying, especially as he lost his temper and nearly starting fighting the (female) jailers.

Bear in mind that even the Female Jailers are far tougher than I. Still no excuse. It was gratifying to know he was going to serve time.

This afternoon I went shopping, buying some more black trousers and some more red shirts.

And a pouch for the digital camera.

After buying the new Terrorizer magazine at Borders on Oxford St I talked to a girl at the counter about working at Borders and when they might be hiring again.

She told me that they hadn't replaced some people who had left because of the slowdown of Highstreet Trade (post London Bombings etc) but they had recently hired some full-timers and the next time they would be hiring would be November: Temps for Christmas.

Interesting.

Anyways, time for me to go.

Over and out.

J

Better day.

A better day.

It started out pretty bad, with me waking up late and considering calling in sick.

But I decided that arriving late was better than calling a sickie, so I dressed as fast as I could, hung up the towels I had in the washer (I wasn't willing to let them fester all day) and go moving.

Fortunately, after the 0822 train is the 0829 train. Which got allowed me a seat and got me to work before nine.

I still had to hustle to get the files up to the Clerk etc, but I didn't get any stick over being late.

Which doesn't mean that I'm not going to be early every day for the rest of the week.

In any case, I checked my roster and discovered... I had Mr Baker again.

[sarcasm]
JOY!
[/sarcasm]

But the clerk was going to be Mark Ostrovski, who is cool.

Which was good, since the Morning list ran at 65 matters, before the day was done.

Still, despite all the usual setbacks, despite having no breakfast and despite having a stroppy DJ, the day actually improved.

First of all, remembering the shemozzle that was yesterday, I was ready to hand out orange forms and take names as the people streamed in. I even managed to take some times for defendants arriving. Though I forgot to note when they were called. D'oh!

Secondly, people actually had cases ready, and were willing to stick around while waiting for their case to come on.

There were rough parts. People getting agitated, endless cases being put back for some important scrap of paper or something.

There was the usual parade of thugs and theives.

There was a defendant who swore at me behind my back when I put his case behind a custody matter (custody matters take precedence over bail matters because the defendant is being deprived of their liberty). I checked his case on the list. He was in court for threatening to kill his neighbours in such a manner that they felt compelled to call the police.

There was someone who was told to be back at two pm who came back at four.

There was someone who had been told not to leave the building who left the building to make a phone call. So a warrant was issued for his arrest.

Cases put back. Cases brought back. Cases put back again.

Mostly, I managed to stay on the beat. Mostly.

Still, I came through alive and I handled a 65 item morning list plus 9 item afternoon list without freaking out.

Hooray.

I'm looking on the net to see if I can find more about the language used in Serenity.

Apparently when the cast start shouting unintelligibly they are swearing in Chinese. Which is what I thought.

That was cool.

One of the other list-callers just found out that she's pregnant. Good for her.

The new temp from Diamond that they are training to be a list caller looks like she might be a stayer. She doesn't seem terrified and pissed off like Chris and I were.

In any case, time for me to go.

Over and out.

J

Tired

Tired.

Posting from Islington.

Between one thing and another, I'm nearly an hour late for my Monday Night two hours of Life Drawing, so I thought 'Screw It!' and hunkered down at this net cafe instead.

My local net caff is closed right now because they are all Muslims and they are fasting/feasting for Ramadan. Or something.

To be honest, I'm not sure why the net caff is closed right now.

Today was rough. I survived, but it was rough.

But first of all, when I left last night, I was going to head into Leicester Square to go see Serenity.

I got to Leicester Square just in time to catch the 2100 session.

And Serenity rocked. Great Science Fiction with a Pirate/Western twist, subtextual political messages and great effects.

Plus the Dialogue. Joss Whedon writes great dialogue. Anyone ever saw an episode of Buffy knows that.

But this time he really excelled himself. The trademark wisecracks were there. But there was more. Mixed in was some kind of 18th Century/Yorkshire/Appalachian Dialect that the characters kept slipping into. Plus scenes where characters would freak out and start shouting in what sounded like Cantonese (it is worth noting that when the movie showed an instrument readout, or a label or something, quite often it was in Chinese/Japanese Characters).

I loved it.

What I didn't love was the fact that the movie got out at 2330, just in time for me to miss all the trains home.

Yep. Nightbus for me. Jeez that sucked.

Not to mention that I had to iron a shirt and black trousers when I got home.

In any case, I was tired and moody when I got to work today.

There I discovered that I've been moved from Cruisy Court Three to Hellish Court Two.

I also discovered that the girl that the Agency sent to replace the girl that replaced Chris wasn't coming in to work, and would be replaced by someone else.

I'm guessing she just didn't feel like being thrown into calling the list. Can't say I blame her.

Bear in mind that this makes three List Callers to quit in four weeks.

A minor fact that kept me biting my tongue repeatedly during the day.

The District Judge today was Mr Baker. Not as bad as Miss Quick, but still pretty harsh to work under. Did I mention that when I mentioned that I was working under Miss Quick people would twist in sympathy?

Same thing happened to me at lunch today.

The morning was crazy, the engine of justice that is Court 2, Highbury Corner, sputtered and jammed at places and predictibly the DJ was frequently snide to me, among others. Even the Prosecutor got a serve on occaision.

I was already having minor kittens because a) two weeks of the slower pace in Court 3 had predictibly put me in need of some swift gear shifting, the kind I was a little out of practise at and b) just for fun, the beaurocrats had decided that all this week the list callers need to fill out forms noting when each and every defendant makes himself/herself known, and when they go on trial.

As if we didn't have enough to do.

In any case, I took a licking from the DJ, and even the Clerk, who has been nothing but complimentary in the past spoke her piece.

Though thankfully she kept it to:

"Jason, that was a complete shambles."

The afternoon was better. I managed to keep most of the threads together, keep most of the balls in the air and even keep the cases moving.

Even the Clerk told me that I had done better.

The part that bugged me was that at times I started to lose my cool in a way I don't like to.

I tend not to shout at people. I've spent most of my life being shouted at, and apart from the three hours a week I used to scream with the Fighting Uruk Hai, shouting at people is just something I've tried to avoid.

Usually if I'm pissed off I'll smile and talk really quietly. Smile the way a cannibal would smile at a fat explorer. Smile the way a wolf would smile at a limping reindeer.

I have to be in really bad shape before I'll shout at someone.

And today I found myself raising my voice in a way that I haven't at this job before.

At times I wasn't so much calling the list some much as barking it back at the DJ, in response to one of his snide remarks.

The part I was sure that I could feel the Ice cracking beneath my feet was at 1305.

People had been coming and going all morning. List calling could be compared to a strange game of solitaire: match the Solicitor to the Client, sometimes get the client out of the cells, make sure the Solicitor is in the room, make sure that the CPS have the relevant documents, if a probation officer is needed make sure that the Probation officer is in the room and not in the other Court Room that they have to cover. If the defendant is in the cells make sure they have seen a solicitor, or find out if they represent themselves or if they want to see the duty solicitor. Find the right answers for the surly relatives of the accused. Make sure the advocate has filled in an orange form, to which you've added the case numbers and handed it up to the Clerk for them to add it to the Pink File (as often as not, swinging loose so that you have to secure it to an orange tag before dropping it in the box in the hall out the back of the courtroom.

Put all the pieces together, call it on, then try to put the pieces together for more cases to be called before you have to jump up and do something else.

I used to have nightmares about Highschool. Now I have nightmares about work.

I know that this is starting to read like a throwback to my recently dystopian illustration of my life. Don't get me wrong, this morning someone called up with one day's work carrying sandwiches for some company in Camden, and I was happy to tell them that I was working today, tomorrow, the rest of the week and probably next week too.

Anyway, back to the story.

People wanted cases to be called before lunch, some cases required people brought from the cells. Bringing people from the cells takes time and has to be done in order that the case will be called.

Just at a crucial moment a Czech translator started asking me something, into my left ear. My left ear which seems to be periodically blocked up by wax or something since Saturday (mental note, if it doesn't get better, see a doc).

The DJ starts saying something along the lines "Can the List Caller Please Call the Next Case on. This is not the time to keep us waiting, it is five past one and..."

That's right where I cut him off.

"SIR, THE NEXT CASE IS ON THE 203 REGISTER, IT IS CASE X TO Y, JOHNATHAN Q DOE, HE APPEARS VIA CUSTODY AND IS REPRESENTED!"

Percussive delivery. Not shouting, certainly not screaming but with an edge which stopped the DJ mid vitriolic flow.

I was sure that I was going to get into trouble for that. It is the kind of thing I spend my life trying not to do, but sometimes it just comes out that way before I can stop it.

Strangely enough I later asked people about me raising my voice and they didn't seem to be too shocked.

It still bothered me. I might lose my cool, but I don't lose it like that and I would have to be particularly bothered before I shouted at anyone, let alone a District Judge.

In any case, I didn't hear any more about it, I finished the list by quarter past four and to the best of my knowledge I still have a job to go to tomorrow.

I'm going to get something to eat and get some sleep.

But first I have to go home and iron some clothes.

Yay.

Over and out.

J

I hate filling out forms.

Especially forms which drive home the impression that I don't look good on paper.

I'm not going to make it to the Tattoo Convention today.

Which I'm sure is a great relief to my parents, who are forever afraid that I'm going to follow the my brother and sister and get inked.

Funny thing: Last week there was a Jailer sitting back in the courtroom. The jailers are usually tough, muscular, tattooed folk. The black ones sometimes have neat dreadlocks.

This one was about fiftyish, white haired caucasian. Still not the kind of chap I would want to fight, but a little different from the rest.

In any case, he was chilling on my side of the courtroom, the opposite side from the Secure Dock.

As I do, I got talking to him. Somewhere along the way I asked him what the jailers do when they aren't up in the court room:

'So what do you do? Play chess, read Baudelaire?'

I wasn't trying to put the jailers down, it was just me being a Smart Alec, but on reflection I really shouldn't have tried it on. But I could tell that he had a sense of humour. He still surprised me with his response.

'Oh yeah, we love a bit of Les Fleurs Du Mal.'

That's what catches me offguard about England. Finding the most interesting people in the most unlikely places.

Anyways, I better go back and finish that form.

Over and out.

J

Addendum:

It's nearly nine o'clock, and despite all the talk of imminent shark jumping etc, I decided not to hand in the application form. For a couple of reasons:

First of all, I still felt conflicted. I have a history of not moving when I should, but I also have a long history of walking out on a good thing when I should stick with it. I don't know what the ratio is, or whether it is the result of some specific chemical imbalance that can be corrected with just the right kind of medication. The point being is that I have come this far, I think I will stay with the List Calling position for a while longer.

The second reason (which relates to the first) is that the form required two professional referrees and one personal (who has known me for at least two years and is not a relative)... being a relatively recent arrival in the UK, the only people who have known me for more than two years are relatives.

And John Drake.

And possibly Hilary (though I think she is just shy of the cutoff... besides which, I can imagine the things she would tell them: 'He sleeps too much, he wears a stupid bandanna despite me repeatedly telling him not to, he talks to strangers even though he knows that I find it embarassing, my Mother never thought he was good enough for me etc).

Nope. Adding a personal referree with all the addresses and whatnot wasn't possibe in the timeframe.

Of course, the clincher was that the form stated clearly that the first thing that Borders would do would be to contact my Supervisor at the Courthouse for chat. Given that List Calling is a very speciallised thing, given that Highbury Corner is perennially shortstaffed and given that if I was to go I would be the third List-caller to come and go since the beginning of September, I can't imagine it would go down well.

It's just not a bridge I'm willing to burn. Not just yet.

Of course, I would have been able to create some kind of damage control... like make Anj the contact on the form. But that would have needed to have been done yesterday.

Nevermind.

I'm going to work at the Courthouse for a bit more while I consider and prepare for my next move.

Besides, every day that I survive in that sometimes hellish job, every morning I ride the Savage Express to work, feels like a point of pride for me.

Anyways, I'm feeling a little down. I think I'll go see Serenity.

Over and out.

J

Blarg!

Blarg!

It's Friday Night, I've spent too long at this net cafe and I'm a bad combination of bored and feeling pressed for time.

Tomorrow I'm going to the London Tattoo Convention. I'm planning to be back in Leytonstone in time for the party that Masao is going to throw.

I'm also going to do all the usual weekend stuff I do. Washing, ironing, cooking something weird etc.

But most importantly, tomorrow I am going to put in the Application plus a resume for that job at Borders.

Why did I decide that I need to do this? First of all, some of the coolest people I work with are either leaving or have left. Tamz the Prosecutor, Farrah the Solicitor, Cambridge Chris etc.

I just found out that Anj is going to be leaving soon, possibly to make use of the Law Degree that she has.

Another thing I've noticed is that this job is always either boring or panic. Today was mostly panic with a dash or boredom.

Don't get me wrong, it's important to me that I have become halfway decent at this job. I'm still conflicted about the possibility of applying for other jobs.

But I think I have to be prepared to stay ahead of the shark on this one.

Waiting til the job has jumped the shark is not a good strategy.

Bear in mind I am still going to work this job until I find something worth leaving for. But I am planning to leave. I am not going to be a listcaller forever.

Tonight I will fill out the form, tweak my CV and consider my decision.

Tomorrow I will get my CV printed, go to Oxford Circus and hand it in. Info Desk, Second Floor.

Other News:

Senser last night was an interesting experience. It wasn't a bad gig at all, though the drunks in the crowd did piss me off.

But Senser themselves... I thought that they lacked energy and didn't quite live up to the legend.

It could just be that in the ten years since Senser first came to prominance in London we've had bands like SixFtHick, Converge and the Dillinger Escape Plan constantly pushing the limits of onstage energy, intensity and sheer malarky, but I did expect a little more than I was presented with.

Still, maybe it was an off night.

Musically they were great. And I had a great time up the front shouting along and throwing shapes back at Heitham.

My main irritation for the gig was an aggressive dancer. The drunk kind who will be a lout, but in a really friendly way. At one point he put his arm around my shoulders, but had his wrist against my throat so that is pressed on my windpipe. I was tempted to throw an elbow into his ribs hard enough to break them, but I thought that starting a fight when there were three cameras pointed at me wasn't a good idea.

This weekend (or even next week) I want to make time to see Serenity and/or Nightwatch.

Funniest thing today:

In the office some people were talking about the Silverlink Richmond Line. Someone, I can't remember who, mentioned that it was known as the Savage Express.

I can see why. And apparently it is much better than it used to be.

There is one thing in particular that bothers me about possibly leaving the job at the Highbury Funhouse (as Richard calls it)... it is a stupid thing, given that the crush is nine months seven months old, but not being in Islington all the time, I would probably never see La Rosa again.

I'll live.

Over and out.

J

Another quick blog day:

Another quick blog day because I'm supposed to be going out to see Senser in Camden.

Today was pretty cool, even if I felt tired and conflicted.

Conflicted because I was trying to work out whether I should apply for the job at Borders.

I started making a list of reasons to stay or go on a blank piece of paper. Number 2 was 'Hot Solicitors'

Rather stupidly, I left this list in plain view on my Listcallers Desk when some young female solicitors were walking in.

D'oh!

Nevermind. They didn't say anything to me about it.

Other news:

Overnight there was a ramraid on a jewellers called Tiffanies, which led to the gang being arrested and one of them dying during the pursuit.

After the afternoon trial turned out to be ineffective, the Barrister in the case said to the courtroom 'I have to go, one of my clients has been arrested for Armed Robbery. Just so I don't look stupid, what is Tiffanies?'

Interesting.

Another interesting thing: I went to the Oxford Street Borders to gather more intelligence on the position offered. As it was, there were lots of people handing in CVs, but typical of London, not all of them could speak English.

They had run out of application forms at the 1st Floor Info Counter, so the girl sent me upstairs.

While I was waiting at the second floor info counter, the woman ahead of me asked the guy behind the counter if they had The Prince by Machiavelli.

He had never heard of it.

I told her to look in Classics.

The computer catalog system came back with the book being listed in the Medieval Section. The boy on the counter read it as Mid Level.

Somehow I'm not convinced that getting a job at Borders is an overly hard thing to do.

When the other guy at the counter returned with my application form, I immediately put it in my satchel, along with the 2000AD and the discounted Landscape Drawing book I was carrying.

Five minutes later, as I was perusing the Graphic Design Section, I realised that I had very nearly accidently become a shoplifter.

That probably wouldn't have endeared me to the recruiters.

In all likelyhood, given that I saw four people apply for the same job while I was in the store, I probably won't get it, but I'm still feeling conflicted about wanting to apply.

I think I'll post some of my thoughts either side of the argument when I have a little more time.

I do have to decide by Saturday, because that is the application deadline.

Over and out.

J

STOP THE PRESS!

According to metalhammer.co.uk, Emperor are going to Reform.

SWEET!

Rarf!

Hey there blog connosieurs. (I bet I spelt that wrong)

The Melvins show last night was brilliant.

Being as I am from a city where you can usually pick which venue any particular show will be at by the type of music it is (Hardcore at Mary St, Metal at The Basement, Hippy-Wuss Music at the Zoo, Hipster indie music at Rics etc) I found myself getting to the Scala in Kings Cross and wondering why the doors were closed.

Checking the Ticket I found that the show was actually at the KOKO instead of the Scala. Thank God that King's Cross is on the Northern Line.

I got there midway through a set by a bunch of Sludge Merchants I later found out were actually a band called Part Chimp. I've been hearing about Part Chimp, but I expected them to be more technical and less Doomy. Still, the guitars were heavy as fuck and the Drummer was a joy to watch. Seriously, his drumming reminded me of a Drunk Parent beating a small child. In the best possible way. You'll have to see it to understand.

Next up were Deerhof, who kind of reminded me of Dillinger Escape Plan minus the Cannibal Corpse. In other words, they were nearly nothing like Dillinger Escape Plan, except when Dillinger decide to break it up with some Jazzy bits and other weird theatrical stuff.

But the Melvins themselves were absolutely amazing. Incredible presence, gut level power, incredible drumming and everything else you want and none of the stuff that you can live without.

One of the best shows I've seen since I've been here in the UK.

Seriously. One of the shows that reminds you of why you love music. Powerful, slowly, ridiculously heavy music with Japanese Taiko inspired drums and huge vocals. I can't believe I've never clicked to the Melvins before.

Apparently they were a huge influence on Nirvana, which isn't really surprising, however I can truly say that based on what I saw last night Nirvana at their best still wouldn't have touched them for sheer power.

Other news: I got home too late and got up too late.

Covered in Cigarette smoke and a little sweat, I decided to allow myself the briefest of all showers.

I missed the 0807 train by about five minutes, but caught the 0822. And got to work 15 minutes late.

Fortunately there wasn't much to mark up. Unfortunately marking up was delayed by a) having to spend time opening the post (it was my turn to join the Post Opening Detail today) and chasing a file which has been accidently put on one of my registers (as subsequently moved to another courtroom).

Despite having Solicitors without Defendants, having Defendants without Solicitors and the like the day actually went pretty smoothly.

Lunch: They were out of Chicken at the Ristorante so I had roast beef instead. And I gave in to a hankering for some French Fries. I also ate an Apple and a Peach.

Afternoon: kept nodding off during the trial but managed to be on beat when a witness needed to be sworn in or a document needed to be passed or something.

In fact, the trial ended at Quarter Past Four. Which was a little annoying, since I was hoping that the day would go fifteen minutes longer to make up for the time I lost being late.

No matter.

On the way out the prosecuting Barrister asked me where I was from.

Australian.

Interesting, he said. Since my accent seems to swing between Australian and Irish and New York American. "You ought to get that sorted out."

Dang. I know that I sound American when I'm tired, but I don't like to be told. Later on I might read a page of a book into a tape recorder and listen to it back.

Yes, I'm being insecure and self-obsessed again.

But if Sean Connery was allowed to do this, then so am I.

On the way home I stopped at the Borders on Oxford Street to look for the new Kerrang and the new 2000AD. I still don't have the new 2000AD.

Still, I did see a notice in the window that Borders were looking for new "Periodical Shelvers" or something.

Sounds interesting. It would be an ASAP start, ie quitting the Courthouse without much notice, but I have always wanted work in a bookshop.

Still, I'm not sure if being a Periodical Shelver would be a step up from the courthouse and all it's fringe benefits. Most of which are highly subjective to me.

Borders: It's on the Central Line. I Love Magazines. How much do Periodical Shelvers get paid?

Hmm.

I'll make a list of Pros and Cons when I get home.

And then I'll flip a coin.

I'm going home.

I'm going to watch LOST then get some sleep.

Over and out.

J

Hey de Ho!

Hey.

I'm tired.

It wasn't a very hard day, but I am still tired.

Most notable: Estate Brats in the public gallery, a knucklehead drunk driver demonstrating why you should never conduct your own defence, a crazy drunk Irishman making me look like a muppet in someone else's court (I led him to the court he needed to be in just for him to yell his name at the top of his lungs WHILE another case was being heard), said Irishman being thrown out of the building by Security and Off-duty Detectives and confusing shenanigans to do with Morning and Afternoon Lists.

Yay.

Life drawing was fun, even if I was having a lousy drawing week.

I managed to get charcoal and white pastel on my blue jeans. Woo. I felt so arty.

My mother tells me that Gus is still in Seattle and having a great time.

Good for him.

I asked one of the supervisors at work how much money I would make if I applied to be permanent. She told me that I would only make about £14 000 or £15 000 a year. Currently, after tax, I reckon I would really be pushing it to make £10 000. If every week I get paid like last week, it is more like £8 500.

Good thing nobody's pregnant.

In any case, the problem with applying to be permanent is that I would have to quit Diamond first.

Not such a big deal for me, since Diamond and I have never had a great relationship (sometime I'll dedicate a huge Blog to the insults and inequities that Diamond Resourcing have perpetrated on myself and others), but quitting Diamond would effectively mean that I was quitting the job, until I successfully applied to be permanent.

If I were to do that, I would make damn sure that a) I was already indespensible and b) all that mattered knew it.

As per currently, I've still got a way to go.

Anways, tonight I go see The Melvins perform Houdini.

And then I sleep.

Over and out.

J

Tonight I go see the Melvins. Then I sleep.

I bought the camera.

Haff gave cut me a deal and gave it to me for £150.

Sweet.

I'm going to take it home, get changed and go to life-drawing class.

Over and out.

J

Two Minute Blog

Blogging in two minutes because I spent too much time looking for info about the Sony DSC P10 (there is one for sale at the net caff for £200 and I'm trying to figure out if it is worth the money... as far as I can tell, the model is a few years old and it has mixed reviews on the net).

Anyways, today I didn't really do terribly much, except for throwing things in the wash, going to Tescos and buying food and stuff and coming down here.

My neck feels stiff and I feel tired.

I'm about to get turfed out of the shop.

Over and out.

J

Hey Blogomaniacs

Hey there,

I don't think I blogged yesterday.

Here's some news, anyway:

I went back to the Hen and Chicken pub for Tamsin's Leaving The CPS drinks. Tamz herself didn't arrive til later, given that she was on her feet in Court until about six, or even later.

The people that were there were a couple of Barristers, Legal Advisors (Jen and Richard were there) and a couple of the office staff and one or two people training for the witness service that I had met the day before.

All in all it was a pretty small group. We all fit around one table, and the table wasn't very big at all.

By the time that Tamz arrived people had already had to start leaving.

Realizing that not many of the people could really be called friends of mine, for the most part I made a point of just listening to the conversations, which were quite often regarding cases, points of law, eccentric District Judges and the like. Other topics included the best way to get around London, places they had worked, the ever collapsing barrier between the roles of Barristers and Solicitors etc.

Even though I had some cash, people were kind enough to buy me a drink when they were buying rounds (either they appreciated how lousy the pay is for a Temp List Caller, or they kept forgetting that they had bought the last round), so I got to be quite tipsy without having to pay a cent.

I also got to know stuff about some of the Courthouse Staff that I hadn't had a chance to hear previously. Richard the Baby-faced Legal Advisor (also called a Clerk in the courtroom), for instance is 26, went to Oxford, broke his collarbone playing rugby and was previously a defence barrister in the crown court.

Tamz refuses to tell her age, but showed me a photo of her with another haircut that was taken when she was 28. So I guess that she is between thirty and thirty-three.

I took the tube home and arrived home around midnight or somesuch. It was raining a fair bit, and still feeling a little drunk, I decided to wander to the all-night tescos to see if they had any implements to aid in the unblocking of the toilet.

They didn't and that managed to waste an hour I should have spent sleeping. I vaguely remember buying food, or something.

I've been eating a lot of celery.

Anyways, Friday morning I woke up late again, hurriedly showered, ate breakfast, didn't shave and legged it to the Station, thankfully arriving at Stratford in time to catch the 0807, which delivered me to Highbury corner at 0835. Thanks.

I'm going to endeavour as best I can to catch the 0759 from here on in, if I can't catch an earlier one.

There was a staff meeting, not much worth mentioning.

The actually working day was busy but not ridiculously so. I had a chicken sandwich and a peach for lunch, and took a walk. By the time I got back to the courtroom the clerk had opened up the doors (which I'm supposed to do ten minutes before the official re-arrival of the DJ) and had let people in.

There were two or three matters left over from the morning, which was a little worrying, since we had a half day trial set for the afternoon.

Fortunately the matters were resolved swiftly and the trial didn't actually go ahead because of problems with the CCTV and the abscence of the prosecution withnesses, who by the by were crackheads with criminal matters hanging over their heads related to the case in question.

I've said it, I'll say it again. I hate crackheads.

Finish the day, go home.

On the way home I stopped at a hardware store on Leytonstone High Road and bought a plunger, some kind of plunger related thing and a bottle of Toilet Unblocking Stuff with strict instructions to wear gloves and not breathe the fumes.

Got home, got changed. Toilet unblocked. Nice.

Dismayed to find that I had a receipt instead of a ticket for Blood Has Been Shed, I got going to the tube station.

Three quarters of the way there I realised that I had no idea where the gig was. Thinking I could find a Kerrang somewhere, I stopped at every off-licence, newsagent etc.

No luck. Tube to Camden. Not at the Underworld. Tube to Islington. Not at the Garage. Can't find a Kerrang. It's not listed in Time-Out, though Meat Beat Manifesto are playing at Cargo. Hmm.

I take the tube to Tottenham Court road. The doors of the Mean Fiddler are closed.

I try the bookshops looking for a kerrang. No luck.

I go into a net cafe and look up the website. It says Mean Fiddler. Mean Fiddler Doors still Closed. I check up the street at the Astoria and discover that the show.... has been cancelled.

Which is good, sort of. I had spent so long trying to find the venue that I probably would have only seen two songs anyway.

So I ask a girl outside the Astoria where to find Cargo.

She tells me it is in Shoreditch. Which is a while away by tube.

She is right. By the time I get to Whitechapel, they aren't doing the trains to Shoreditch, I have to go back down the line and take a bus.

Shoreditch itself is really interesting. I'm going to have to do more exploring some time, because it looks like fun.

It's quarter past eleven by the time get to Cargo. Meat Beat Manifesto is already onstage, but fortunately Jack Dangers and his sidekick are doing a two hour set.

And it is fucking brilliant. Two Blokes, lots of G4 laptops, a couple of trigger keyboards, some mics and two screens.

The projectors projecting onto the screens were actually midi'd up to the trigger keyboards and the sequencers so that the images could be triggered, toggled and scrubbed by Jack himself. Audio and Visual.

The Beats were huge, the bass was making my eyebrows shake and the crowd was grooving. It was all good.

After the set I chilled in the cafe near entry to Cargo. This was the first time I had been to Cargo, and I was pretty impressed by it. A pretty good club, as far as clubs go. Stylish but not too pre-fabricated.

In the cafe I got talking to a graphic designer girl named Paulie who had two friends, a couple who were having a spat and had gone off home.

She was pretty interesting, though she had only come to the show because Meat Beat Manifesto was her friend's favourite band in the world. She preferred indie rock.

I chose not to espouse my opinion of modern indie rock.

We bailed around half two. We separated when she took a cab back to her place just before Kings Cross and convinced me to take a cab back to Leytonstone.

I would have prefered to take a bus, financially speaking, but I did get to see lots of shoreditch and greater Hackney through the windows of the cab. It did cost my fifteen pounds, though.

Still, it let me get home before the sun.

Today: I overslept, went to Stratford Library, returned Preacher Book 2 but couldn't find Preacher Book 3, took the bus back and came here.

I'm not going anywhere tonight, I think I'll just listen to music, do some reading and do my washing (which I really do need to do).

No idea what I'll do tomorrow. I guess I should make a list.

Over and out.

J