Hey Ya, Heeey Ya

Hey all,

It seems my attempt to stay one jump ahead of my black dog has worked, this time.

I made it to the Devonshire Arms about half an hour later than I meant to, but I had still beaten Richie to the pub. I saw a female friend of mine whose name escapes me, who was done in London for the weekend from Milton Keynes. She had come down for Na'ama's Birthday shindig on Friday and Slimes on Saturday.

Somewhere along the way I got talking to a Long-haired londoner named Mark, a tall Brazilian Named Alex and a Pretty Austrian named Bernadette. Mark recognized me as being Australian because his girlfriend is Australian. Bernadette was impressed by my German.

I had to run outside to take a phone call from my Mother (which always cheers me up, believe it or not), and while I was on the phone I saw Bernadette heading down the street towards the Tube Station (heading off to Slimelight).

In any case, I went back inside, talked to Richie, Robert, Patrizia and anyone else about.

Eventually the Devonshire Arms closed, leaving Richie and I to catch the bus to Angel. Which took longer than you would think in London. Added to which it was freezing cold and we got sprayed with Grit by the Council Grit Van twice.

We finally made it to Angel and Slimelight. At this point I discovered that there was some live Psytrance outfit playing on the top floor, so my usual Stompy Powernoise zone was being used by brightly coloured ravers. Dang!

Nevertheless I did have a whole lot of fun, dancing about, seeing friends and not giving a damn about anything else.

Interesting things: When I explained the way that I was feeling down my friend Callum turned out to be a sympathetic soul. Something I did not expect. Richie got talking to Bernadette. A northern friend of mine who usually dresses in militaristic uniforms left early with his girlfriend, clasping my hand in both of his the way italians do. For someone with possible Fascist tendencies, he is a genuinely warm human being.

After Slimelight I retreated to Starbucks with a couple of people, where my friend recently of Milton Keynes suggested we go see the Gothic Nightmares exhibition at the Tate Gallery. So Me, her and a Finnish kid I knew from STJ took the tube to the Vicinity of the Tate Modern.

Even in my sleep deprived state the Gothic Nightmares exhibition was well worth the admission. Etchings, prints, sketches and paintings by Blake (the artistically inclined poet), Fuselli (the darkly inclined artist), Gilray (the cleverly inclined cartoonist) and a couple of others made up the exhibits, each with their own annotations and interpretations.

Put simply it was an education. The draughtmanship and the thematic depth was incredible.

After that wassername led The Finn and I along the Thames, past the House of Parliament, trying to find somewhere we could get some food. It is bizarre that a city such as London could come so close to shutting down on a Sunday.

Eventually we found a pub that was a) open and b) serving food. Unfortunately the kitchen screwed up our orders (two full English and one Scampy and chips) leaving us to wait an incrdible amount of time. The pub wasn't even close to busy. The barman brought the wrong orders, then there was a delay on the right ones.

When the two full english finally came, I realized that both the Finn and I were down a sausage (the menu stated two sausages, we only got one each). The manager checked the menu in front of me to verify this, then sent a message down to the kitchen.

Strangely enough, one sausage would have been plenty, but I was channelling my youngest brother after being kept waiting so long.

After the food: onto the tube, where the Finn peeled off to head to North London, and my friend an I disembarked at Bethnal Green. I got a quick tour of Bethnal Green and even got to meet her old flatmate, who was a florist with an interest in comics.

Onto the Central Line and back to here, picking up a Sunday Times along the way.

The end of this story?

Most of the past 36 hours I have been feeling better. Meeting more people, exploring and seeing stuff. Learning things, seeing things I haven't seen before.

My muscles still hurt from Pole-dancing at Na'ama's shindig.
There is a Venetian Snares track with a sample at the intro, I'm not sure what it's from: 'Gran'ma told me that everyone has a Black Dog and a White Dog inside them. The one you feed the most eventually eats the other one.'

I know the name written on the collar of my present biggest black dog, and I am trying to tame it.

I've got other black dogs, but this one is one that bites me deeply, because it is one that I really should be over.

I can imagine someone reading this could cause someone to worry about me, since I am using such vague terms. Don't worry about me, I don't spell out what this recent spike of depression is about because it is embarassing rather than dark and evil. Embarrassing that I care when I thought that I didn't, embarrassing that a piece of me feels that I need something that I thought was superfluous to my life. Embarrassing that I've found it so hard to replace something I thought would be so easy.

But I'm getting too old to sit around petting my Black Dog.

I've got to feed the White Dog instead.

But I don't have to feed the White Dog alone.

I'm going home now, it's time I got some sleep.

Over and out.

J