Hey Hey
Hey o!
I meant to blog yesterday, but things got beyond me.
Saturday night:
Met Richie at the Dev. Richie was talking to a bloke named John Murphy or something, who is now in an outfit called Knifeladder, previously played drums in SPK, the famed industrial band from Australia.
One of the members of SPK, one Graeme Revell, now makes all the music for CSI, among other things.
Interesting.
I also ran into Liam, one of Hilary's friends, who let it slip that the mystery male that is seeing Hilary is in fact his flatmate.
Which doesn't bother me, really. At least this one can speak English.
If I was bothered, it was at being left out of the loop.
But enough emo wussery, on with the story:
At the Dev was also Bernadette, the stunning Austrian girl that I assumed would not like me because I am not a long haired goth anymore. Later I would see Bernadette at Slimelight, making out with a short-haired raver boy. Nevermind. Still, she did offer to sign my membership form, and kissed me hello and goodbye on each cheek.
Which is how I found out that she has really soft skin on her face. Today I was in Waterstones and I looked up how to say 'Your skin is so soft' in German.
Best I can tell, it's 'Sein Haut ist so weich.'
Anyways, Patrizia and Robert, the usual Saturday Djs at the Devonshire Arms weren't there, which was weird. A purple-haired bloke in a tailcoat was instead.
Just after 10PM Richie had to leave to go to his job, which was in the Bank district. Which was just where I was going.
So we took the train to Bank and separated off.
The club I was looking for was easily found, since I ran into a goth girl just outside the station that was going.
Here's where it get's weird:
The girl that invited me to come to the club didn't turn up for an hour (and bear in mind, I was an hour late), then spent the night socializing before getting an asthma attack then a fever etc. Not a terribly auspicious date.
But I still had a great time. Why?
Because I had found out why Patrizia and Robert weren't at their usual haunt:
They were at this club spinning whatever they wanted. And it was great.
Patrizia thinks my new haircut is cool, by the way.
Come to think of it, I got mostly positive reactions about the haircut.
Anyways, I had a great time shooting the breeze with Patrizia and Robert, I danced around to their selections, I declared that I felt like starting a Trad Goth Band, and Robert told me that if I do, he'll either play bass or drums.
Nice. Let's see if I can write a couple of Trad Goth songs.
Come to think of it, I'm still working on writing some Gore-Grind songs, some Doom Songs, some Hardcore songs and some Industrial songs.
Maybe I'll be hit with a musical creative burst and knock them all off in a weekend.
Anyways, somewhere around half three or four I bugged out. Since I really felt like dancing out some of my physical and emotional toxins I found a convenient bus from Bank to Angel, where I paid into Slimelight, fielded comments about my hair and then danced agressively (but not irresponsibly) on both the dancefloors.
Sometimes clubbing sucks. Sometimes it is a facile and superficial way to spend money you don't have and time you can't get back with people you don't like in a place you can't wait to leave listening to music you wouldn't admit knowing.
But sometimes the beat resonates with something inside you and you can lose yourself on the dancefloor, always one jump ahead of the blues that nip at your heels. I might be running on empty, but I can draw strength from the music.
Jeez, what a hippy.
Anyways, as Slimelight wound down I chatted to a Polish lesbian who was working one of the bars (apparently Krakow is overrun with university age women because of the university there and the gender imbalance in Eastern Europe), before letting the male Brazillian cloak room attendant down gently. He had taken a liking to me, and was surprised to find a completely straight male at Slimelight.
After Slimelight: on to Starbucks, but I bugged out early to go home and get some sleep before going out again to the Dev to meet Liam and some of his friends (Nick, Liam's flatmate was there, but it wasn't too weird. Him and I are cool).
Patrizia also arrived later, and before I knew it I had hung at the Dev longer than I meant to.
I wound up crashing on Liam's couch in North London before taking the tube home in the morning. Nick was sick in the night from a bad kebab. Six times. Mental note: don't eat kebabs in Camden. Especially not Chicken kebabs.
Tube ride: chatted to a pretty barrister, who told me that she always felt sorry for the List Callers because everyone wanted a piece of them at once.
Yep, me and Pretty Lady Barristers; I have no chance but I can't resist them all the same.
I got off at Tottenham Court Road and looked around:
Virgin Megastore: Found three Big Black CDs, which was interesting because I thought that they had all been deleted. Money is a little tight right now, so I noted where they were for future reference.
Stargreen: Bought a ticket to the Bezerker show on the 24th (on for Fasterlouder) and one for the Adastreia/Season's End. One of the things the ways that Hilary and I always differed was that she is very politically disengaged, while to me, everything is political. The Season's End singer listed, on their website, that she extremely dislikes political apathy. So I think I'll chat her up at the show.
Anyways, I also had a look through the back streets of Soho, finding record shops and cafes. In on second hand record shop I found a Hawkwind record, where the Vocals were credited to 'Mike Moorcock'.
Mike? Har!
I also went to the Mac Shop, where I discovered that the Typing Tutor programme I wanted was back in stock. Since learning how to type really quickly can only benefit me, I bought it then and there.
By about midday I decided to head home, have a shower etc.
Just Now: my Wolfmother review is up on Fasterlouder, which is good, though I just read through it and spotted a typo straight away. AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!
Also: There's a new editor at fasterlouder, and I think he is taking a little more of a hands on approach to editing the submissions. But he did leave all of my idiosyncratic stuff in.
Anyways, I'm going to tie off all this stuff then make a serious CV and Cover Letter combination for the video shop down the High Road.
Quiet night tonight. Stay home and watch Prison Break and The Mighty Boosh.
Side note about Prison Break: a reviewer in The Mail on Sunday described the actor that plays Schofield as giving 'intense performance'.
Intense is a word that has dogged me for years. Just a few weeks ago a girl used it obliquely to describe me (ie she didn't say 'you're so intense', she said 'don't be too intense'), but I am still not sure what it means.
If the character/actor on Prison Break is anything to go by, intense means 'thoughtful' mixed with 'doesn't blink'.
I just found a really interesting article on Borderline Personality Disorder, which frighteningly fits me really really well. Me and others, anyway.
The article is here: home.everestkc.net/vics/Biosocial%20Model%20of%20BPD%20-%205-19-5.pdf and it makes for fascinating reading.
Here's something: over the weekend I realised that overwhelming negative emotions can be neutralised if I imagine a still place inside me, enough that I can actually feel it in my torso, and let the negative feeling sink into the stillness.
Today I was thinking of posting that idea as imagining a cold, black pool of water inside me, so black you can't see the bottom. And I imagine that the negative emotion is a small animal that I push below the water, and hold until the bubbles stop.
But that's just playing the psycho for comedy value, and I really don't think that enough people would get the joke.
Anyway, gotta go, over and out.
J
Over and out.
J
I meant to blog yesterday, but things got beyond me.
Saturday night:
Met Richie at the Dev. Richie was talking to a bloke named John Murphy or something, who is now in an outfit called Knifeladder, previously played drums in SPK, the famed industrial band from Australia.
One of the members of SPK, one Graeme Revell, now makes all the music for CSI, among other things.
Interesting.
I also ran into Liam, one of Hilary's friends, who let it slip that the mystery male that is seeing Hilary is in fact his flatmate.
Which doesn't bother me, really. At least this one can speak English.
If I was bothered, it was at being left out of the loop.
But enough emo wussery, on with the story:
At the Dev was also Bernadette, the stunning Austrian girl that I assumed would not like me because I am not a long haired goth anymore. Later I would see Bernadette at Slimelight, making out with a short-haired raver boy. Nevermind. Still, she did offer to sign my membership form, and kissed me hello and goodbye on each cheek.
Which is how I found out that she has really soft skin on her face. Today I was in Waterstones and I looked up how to say 'Your skin is so soft' in German.
Best I can tell, it's 'Sein Haut ist so weich.'
Anyways, Patrizia and Robert, the usual Saturday Djs at the Devonshire Arms weren't there, which was weird. A purple-haired bloke in a tailcoat was instead.
Just after 10PM Richie had to leave to go to his job, which was in the Bank district. Which was just where I was going.
So we took the train to Bank and separated off.
The club I was looking for was easily found, since I ran into a goth girl just outside the station that was going.
Here's where it get's weird:
The girl that invited me to come to the club didn't turn up for an hour (and bear in mind, I was an hour late), then spent the night socializing before getting an asthma attack then a fever etc. Not a terribly auspicious date.
But I still had a great time. Why?
Because I had found out why Patrizia and Robert weren't at their usual haunt:
They were at this club spinning whatever they wanted. And it was great.
Patrizia thinks my new haircut is cool, by the way.
Come to think of it, I got mostly positive reactions about the haircut.
Anyways, I had a great time shooting the breeze with Patrizia and Robert, I danced around to their selections, I declared that I felt like starting a Trad Goth Band, and Robert told me that if I do, he'll either play bass or drums.
Nice. Let's see if I can write a couple of Trad Goth songs.
Come to think of it, I'm still working on writing some Gore-Grind songs, some Doom Songs, some Hardcore songs and some Industrial songs.
Maybe I'll be hit with a musical creative burst and knock them all off in a weekend.
Anyways, somewhere around half three or four I bugged out. Since I really felt like dancing out some of my physical and emotional toxins I found a convenient bus from Bank to Angel, where I paid into Slimelight, fielded comments about my hair and then danced agressively (but not irresponsibly) on both the dancefloors.
Sometimes clubbing sucks. Sometimes it is a facile and superficial way to spend money you don't have and time you can't get back with people you don't like in a place you can't wait to leave listening to music you wouldn't admit knowing.
But sometimes the beat resonates with something inside you and you can lose yourself on the dancefloor, always one jump ahead of the blues that nip at your heels. I might be running on empty, but I can draw strength from the music.
Jeez, what a hippy.
Anyways, as Slimelight wound down I chatted to a Polish lesbian who was working one of the bars (apparently Krakow is overrun with university age women because of the university there and the gender imbalance in Eastern Europe), before letting the male Brazillian cloak room attendant down gently. He had taken a liking to me, and was surprised to find a completely straight male at Slimelight.
After Slimelight: on to Starbucks, but I bugged out early to go home and get some sleep before going out again to the Dev to meet Liam and some of his friends (Nick, Liam's flatmate was there, but it wasn't too weird. Him and I are cool).
Patrizia also arrived later, and before I knew it I had hung at the Dev longer than I meant to.
I wound up crashing on Liam's couch in North London before taking the tube home in the morning. Nick was sick in the night from a bad kebab. Six times. Mental note: don't eat kebabs in Camden. Especially not Chicken kebabs.
Tube ride: chatted to a pretty barrister, who told me that she always felt sorry for the List Callers because everyone wanted a piece of them at once.
Yep, me and Pretty Lady Barristers; I have no chance but I can't resist them all the same.
I got off at Tottenham Court Road and looked around:
Virgin Megastore: Found three Big Black CDs, which was interesting because I thought that they had all been deleted. Money is a little tight right now, so I noted where they were for future reference.
Stargreen: Bought a ticket to the Bezerker show on the 24th (on for Fasterlouder) and one for the Adastreia/Season's End. One of the things the ways that Hilary and I always differed was that she is very politically disengaged, while to me, everything is political. The Season's End singer listed, on their website, that she extremely dislikes political apathy. So I think I'll chat her up at the show.
Anyways, I also had a look through the back streets of Soho, finding record shops and cafes. In on second hand record shop I found a Hawkwind record, where the Vocals were credited to 'Mike Moorcock'.
Mike? Har!
I also went to the Mac Shop, where I discovered that the Typing Tutor programme I wanted was back in stock. Since learning how to type really quickly can only benefit me, I bought it then and there.
By about midday I decided to head home, have a shower etc.
Just Now: my Wolfmother review is up on Fasterlouder, which is good, though I just read through it and spotted a typo straight away. AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!
Also: There's a new editor at fasterlouder, and I think he is taking a little more of a hands on approach to editing the submissions. But he did leave all of my idiosyncratic stuff in.
Anyways, I'm going to tie off all this stuff then make a serious CV and Cover Letter combination for the video shop down the High Road.
Quiet night tonight. Stay home and watch Prison Break and The Mighty Boosh.
Side note about Prison Break: a reviewer in The Mail on Sunday described the actor that plays Schofield as giving 'intense performance'.
Intense is a word that has dogged me for years. Just a few weeks ago a girl used it obliquely to describe me (ie she didn't say 'you're so intense', she said 'don't be too intense'), but I am still not sure what it means.
If the character/actor on Prison Break is anything to go by, intense means 'thoughtful' mixed with 'doesn't blink'.
I just found a really interesting article on Borderline Personality Disorder, which frighteningly fits me really really well. Me and others, anyway.
The article is here: home.everestkc.net/vics/Biosocial%20Model%20of%20BPD%20-%205-19-5.pdf and it makes for fascinating reading.
Here's something: over the weekend I realised that overwhelming negative emotions can be neutralised if I imagine a still place inside me, enough that I can actually feel it in my torso, and let the negative feeling sink into the stillness.
Today I was thinking of posting that idea as imagining a cold, black pool of water inside me, so black you can't see the bottom. And I imagine that the negative emotion is a small animal that I push below the water, and hold until the bubbles stop.
But that's just playing the psycho for comedy value, and I really don't think that enough people would get the joke.
Anyway, gotta go, over and out.
J
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 4:28 pm
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