Conundrum Resolved...
Hey all,
Just before 1900 I arrived at the Stargreen office with a view to buying a Bolt Thrower ticket for tomorrow night. And found out that they are all sold out (they weren't sold out the other day when I checked... in fact, there seemed to be a lot of them left).
Anyways, that my conundrum regarding which show to go to, ie Kunt in Brighton or Bolt Thrower in Camden, was solved. So I stopped in at HMV, bought a CD and took the next tube from Oxford Circus to Victoria, where I bought a return ticket to Brighton.
As is so often the case, the decision that you can't make makes itself.
Also happened over the last 24 hours:
Went to Gotham 7 at the Islington Academy. My friend Canadian Colin AKA Dane (I might have called him Simon on this blog, but you all know what I'm like with names) was there, he introduced me to his friend Rachel, a Mohawked cyber-retro girl from Dallas Texas who DJs round the place (she was DJing between the bands). Rachel has just hooked up with a similarly mohawked chap named Glenn.
Anyways, none of the bands were anything to write home about (unless you were writing to warn them not to come). Except Theatre of Tragedy, who were fucking great. Expect lots of Lyrical Waxing about ToT soon.
Went to the after party, talked to people, got home late in the rain. Lousy April weather.
Today: It snowed in Kent overnight. IN KENT! Fuck!
My landlady came around with a plumber at 1400 to look at the boiler. I woke up at 11, and then spent two hours lifting weights (my barbells are starting to show some results, and as anyone will tell you, it gets addictive; even if it's only that you suddenly discover that you have biceps again, it gets addictive).
Anyways, I jumped in the shower, just in time for my landlady to arrive early. I had to run out of the shower with shampoo in my hair to answer her call, run back in, rinse, run out again with conditioner in to buzz her into the building, rinse again, lean out of the bathroom window ill advisedly (luckily my modesty was shielded by a wall) and then get dressed really quickly.
Anyways, she swears that she didn't see anything that offended her, and the plumber arrived soon afterwards and promised to send her a quote (it's a DO NOT RESUSCITATE, of course).
After that I looked in the charity shop at more books and a black suit for £15, went to Stratford to return a library book and went to Oxford Circus.
I also bought Pro Patria Finlandia, by Impaled Nazarene just because I felt like buying something really obnoxious and offensive.
Gotta go,
Over and out.
J
Just before 1900 I arrived at the Stargreen office with a view to buying a Bolt Thrower ticket for tomorrow night. And found out that they are all sold out (they weren't sold out the other day when I checked... in fact, there seemed to be a lot of them left).
Anyways, that my conundrum regarding which show to go to, ie Kunt in Brighton or Bolt Thrower in Camden, was solved. So I stopped in at HMV, bought a CD and took the next tube from Oxford Circus to Victoria, where I bought a return ticket to Brighton.
As is so often the case, the decision that you can't make makes itself.
Also happened over the last 24 hours:
Went to Gotham 7 at the Islington Academy. My friend Canadian Colin AKA Dane (I might have called him Simon on this blog, but you all know what I'm like with names) was there, he introduced me to his friend Rachel, a Mohawked cyber-retro girl from Dallas Texas who DJs round the place (she was DJing between the bands). Rachel has just hooked up with a similarly mohawked chap named Glenn.
Anyways, none of the bands were anything to write home about (unless you were writing to warn them not to come). Except Theatre of Tragedy, who were fucking great. Expect lots of Lyrical Waxing about ToT soon.
Went to the after party, talked to people, got home late in the rain. Lousy April weather.
Today: It snowed in Kent overnight. IN KENT! Fuck!
My landlady came around with a plumber at 1400 to look at the boiler. I woke up at 11, and then spent two hours lifting weights (my barbells are starting to show some results, and as anyone will tell you, it gets addictive; even if it's only that you suddenly discover that you have biceps again, it gets addictive).
Anyways, I jumped in the shower, just in time for my landlady to arrive early. I had to run out of the shower with shampoo in my hair to answer her call, run back in, rinse, run out again with conditioner in to buzz her into the building, rinse again, lean out of the bathroom window ill advisedly (luckily my modesty was shielded by a wall) and then get dressed really quickly.
Anyways, she swears that she didn't see anything that offended her, and the plumber arrived soon afterwards and promised to send her a quote (it's a DO NOT RESUSCITATE, of course).
After that I looked in the charity shop at more books and a black suit for £15, went to Stratford to return a library book and went to Oxford Circus.
I also bought Pro Patria Finlandia, by Impaled Nazarene just because I felt like buying something really obnoxious and offensive.
Gotta go,
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 8:14 pm
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