Hey All,
Hey Everyone.
Another emotional rollercoaster weekend.
I probably should run through the week first:
Tuesday: Recovered from The Bezerker. Starting writing the Review.
Wednesday: Went Jogging for the first time in a year and a half or something. Literally jogged halfway to Romford. Read Robin Hobb and worked on Review more.
Evening: Saw Adastreia play. Not bad. They impressed the crowd at the Underworld enough to sell nearly 30 CDs of their 4 song EP. I met Julie Kiss (stunning Hungarian singer from ToMera). The headliners Season's End were absolutely ace, tho. Stadium rock in a good way. Hilary got cranky in the rain afterwards as her new boyfriend ran for a kebab while she waited for the bus.
Thursday: Recovered from the night before. Realised that my legs still hurt from Jogging. Refined the Bezerker review.
Friday: Made some gabba on the laptop. Sent off Bezerker review. Tried to get either one of my stories for the SFX short story comp into sendable shape. Paul messages me with possibly free ticket to Nashville Pussy at The Garage on Saturday Night. Went out to Destroyer 666. Went for a few drinks afterwards with Richie and a few other folk at some Irish Bar. Night bus home listening to Powerslave by Iron Maiden on the Ipod, slipping in and out of consciousness. And resisting the urge to sing along to Aces High at the top of my lungs.
Saturday Morning: Discover that my National Insurance Number has arrived. Hooray. Wrote Destroyer 666 review in burst of journalistic creativity. Utterly exhausted. Too exhausted to finish polishing either story. Fall asleep and sleep through the deadline to email the story (5 PM April 1). Temporarily consumed with bilious self-hate at my latest fuckup. Self-hate abates when I realise that instead of one review in 2 months by the end of the weekend I'll have sent two reviews in two days. With more bands to review incoming. I'm still depressed enough to fall asleep.
Woke up at 8 PM by Paul asking if I still want to come to the show. I throw myself in the shower, get to the station just in time for Paul to call and tell me that the show is sold out. We arrange to meet at Oxford Circus and have a pint from there.
Tube => Oxford Circus. We walk to the Marlborough Head, Paul being amazed to discover the free metal night in the cellar on Saturdays. Hilary, new Boyf Nick and Dave (guitarist from Adastreia) are there. Paul and I shoot the breeze before he tells me that his friend Amy is having a party at the warehouse she and her friends occupy in Stoke Newington.
Paul and I exit stage left, jump on the 73 and ride up to Stoke Newington. Amy's party is in this big empty warhouse space and is occupied by an international cast of arty retrosexuals. I meet a pale girl with blue eyes and blue dreads who is quite cute, but she lives in Middle Wales. One of Amy's friends is a Suicide Girl, and she gives a burlesque performance to Bat Out of Hell while another girl twirls fireballs on chains and Amy mimes in a blonde wig.
Considering that my original plan for the night was to go to Slimelight, I consider that I am coming out ahead. Ie met cool new people, seen a new area and saw some tassels.
"Aren't you glad that you didn't go to Slimepit?" teases Paul. He goes home next week. I'm going to miss him, but my loss is Brisbane's gain. Paul Kicks Ass.
Later a couple of French bluesniks try to make a bass out of a broomstick, a trashcan and some phone cable. The Blue haired girl had gone home early, having drunk too much Mandarin Vodka (any is too much, judging by the taste).
Paul and I stick around until 7 and then walk to the nearest Tube Station. We're both pretty faded by this point. I change at Holborn, him at Leicester Square.
In a Change of Plan, rather than go straight home I walked out of Holborn Station and get a Bacon Roll from McD's. Another mistake to learn from. At this point, I'd usually turn right and walk down to Covent Garden, look through the window of Forbidden Planet etc.
Fuck it, I decide. I'll turn left and see what I can find.
So begins a wander through the northern part of the West End. Or the Southern Edge of North London. Or something.
Anyways, I find the weird victorian fortress where all the Barristers in London have their chambers. I find a church hidden in an alleyway off a swanky Holborn Street. I look through the windows of shops selling Pinstripe Suits and Legal Textbooks. Jules would have a field day, I think.
I also found the home of Kaim Todner, which amused me, since the Kaim of the Title was a regular at the Highbury Courthouse, and even offered to represent me if I wanted to bring an unfair dismissal suit against them.
I found boarded up pubs in Smithfield, and a dirty hulk of a building that I think houses the Smithfield Markets on weekdays.
Then I went searching for the Barbican Gallery, since I missed the Arraki Photo Exhibition early this year.
I found it, and had my mind blown. The Barbican centre is like something out of Neo Tokyo. A museum, a library, apartments, a theatre, a cinema, a fountain, a village square, restaurants etc. It has everything except except a supermarket. I'm definitely going to have to check it out when it is actually open (like everything else in London, it seems to close for Sundays).
Moving along, I also found The London Museum, St Pauls, the ruins of something or other, the bombed remains of a church, the band I got my first London Employment at and more.
Eventually I found my way down to the Thames, and crossed the bridge to the Tate Modern. I remembered that the last time I had crossed that Bridge, it was with my parents, and we were going the other way.
Turning left again, I walked along the Thames, looking at buildings on the other side, looking at the Globe Theatre, wandering through the back-alleys that lead to The Clink (ie the London Prison Museum), looking at a Dry-Docked sailing ship and wondering if it is bigger or smaller than the ships described in the Liveship Trilogy by Robin Hobb and still wandering down the Thames with a view to reaching Tower Bridge, as I can see it in the distance.
Crossing the river again I got talking to a trio of Goths - a neo druid looking chap, and a guy and girl. I joined their conversation when one of them started quoting a Bill Hicks monologue, and I finished it. Bill Hicks fans tend to get along pretty well.
Plus I had the advantage that they weren't Londoners. The Boy was from Southhampton, the girl from North Wales and the Druid from Dorset. Or something. They were internet pals that had come to London to meet up and go to Slimelight.
The girl had said to me: "You look like someone famous..."
I braced myself for the usual names, only to be hit with Bam Margera (!?) The Druid suggested Jack Nicholson. My hair must really be getting thin.
Anyways, they were friendly kids so we kicked around for a bit, as far as the Tower of London. Then I hung with them on the tube as the went to the Stations they had to go to in order to catch their trains to their home towns.
The girl told me that I looked more Welsh than Irish, since dark hair and blue eyes is more a Welsh thing. Hmm. Maybe it comes down on my Maternal. Grandmother's side. Then again, my Dad always had dark hair...
Tube to Camden to look at leather jackets at the markets. I decided to look for single breasted leather jackets that are more fitted than the voluminous Brando-jacket that I wear now. I couldn't find any that I liked for the right price.
I did, however, try on some New Rock boots (turns out I'm size 43). The funny thing is, I found the best price at the third place I checked (I'm checking Ebay UK right now, just for fun). I'll have to squirrel away some cash to get a pair.
While still in Camden I bought a Moorcock book at a second hand bookshop, along with another one called Confessions of a Dominatrix or something. Though it's the right size (fits in my jacket pocket), somehow I don't think that will replace Alice in Wonderland as my Tube Book.
I checked Cyberdog for Glowsticks, but they were fresh out. Guess it's the camping supplies store for me : ) I'll have to ask Nick to tell me where he got them for 90p each again.
On the way to Euston Station (Camden Station becomes exit only on Sunday Afternoons) I stopped in at a Waterstones and bought the Concise Oxford Dictionary and Concise Oxford Thersaurus bundle. The dictionary because I really want to be sure that I am using my vocabulary correctly (and Robin Hobb uses a lot of words that even I don't know), and the Thesaurus so that I don't find myself reusing the same words (eg Brutal, Discordant etc) in reviews.
Back here I uploaded the Destroyer 666 review. More gigs to review coming.
Anyways, that's enough for now. (I'm sure it's a ridiculous amount in any case).
Oh yeah: I met Ginger from the Wildhearts on Friday Night outside the World's End. He was actually pretty friendly, considering I had been led to believe he was a psychopath.
And here's photographic proof that Spring is trying to get Sprung in London.
I intend to ingest more Psychological Fibre starting this week so that I can be a Regular Blogger again.
Over and Out.
J
Another emotional rollercoaster weekend.
I probably should run through the week first:
Tuesday: Recovered from The Bezerker. Starting writing the Review.
Wednesday: Went Jogging for the first time in a year and a half or something. Literally jogged halfway to Romford. Read Robin Hobb and worked on Review more.
Evening: Saw Adastreia play. Not bad. They impressed the crowd at the Underworld enough to sell nearly 30 CDs of their 4 song EP. I met Julie Kiss (stunning Hungarian singer from ToMera). The headliners Season's End were absolutely ace, tho. Stadium rock in a good way. Hilary got cranky in the rain afterwards as her new boyfriend ran for a kebab while she waited for the bus.
Thursday: Recovered from the night before. Realised that my legs still hurt from Jogging. Refined the Bezerker review.
Friday: Made some gabba on the laptop. Sent off Bezerker review. Tried to get either one of my stories for the SFX short story comp into sendable shape. Paul messages me with possibly free ticket to Nashville Pussy at The Garage on Saturday Night. Went out to Destroyer 666. Went for a few drinks afterwards with Richie and a few other folk at some Irish Bar. Night bus home listening to Powerslave by Iron Maiden on the Ipod, slipping in and out of consciousness. And resisting the urge to sing along to Aces High at the top of my lungs.
Saturday Morning: Discover that my National Insurance Number has arrived. Hooray. Wrote Destroyer 666 review in burst of journalistic creativity. Utterly exhausted. Too exhausted to finish polishing either story. Fall asleep and sleep through the deadline to email the story (5 PM April 1). Temporarily consumed with bilious self-hate at my latest fuckup. Self-hate abates when I realise that instead of one review in 2 months by the end of the weekend I'll have sent two reviews in two days. With more bands to review incoming. I'm still depressed enough to fall asleep.
Woke up at 8 PM by Paul asking if I still want to come to the show. I throw myself in the shower, get to the station just in time for Paul to call and tell me that the show is sold out. We arrange to meet at Oxford Circus and have a pint from there.
Tube => Oxford Circus. We walk to the Marlborough Head, Paul being amazed to discover the free metal night in the cellar on Saturdays. Hilary, new Boyf Nick and Dave (guitarist from Adastreia) are there. Paul and I shoot the breeze before he tells me that his friend Amy is having a party at the warehouse she and her friends occupy in Stoke Newington.
Paul and I exit stage left, jump on the 73 and ride up to Stoke Newington. Amy's party is in this big empty warhouse space and is occupied by an international cast of arty retrosexuals. I meet a pale girl with blue eyes and blue dreads who is quite cute, but she lives in Middle Wales. One of Amy's friends is a Suicide Girl, and she gives a burlesque performance to Bat Out of Hell while another girl twirls fireballs on chains and Amy mimes in a blonde wig.
Considering that my original plan for the night was to go to Slimelight, I consider that I am coming out ahead. Ie met cool new people, seen a new area and saw some tassels.
"Aren't you glad that you didn't go to Slimepit?" teases Paul. He goes home next week. I'm going to miss him, but my loss is Brisbane's gain. Paul Kicks Ass.
Later a couple of French bluesniks try to make a bass out of a broomstick, a trashcan and some phone cable. The Blue haired girl had gone home early, having drunk too much Mandarin Vodka (any is too much, judging by the taste).
Paul and I stick around until 7 and then walk to the nearest Tube Station. We're both pretty faded by this point. I change at Holborn, him at Leicester Square.
In a Change of Plan, rather than go straight home I walked out of Holborn Station and get a Bacon Roll from McD's. Another mistake to learn from. At this point, I'd usually turn right and walk down to Covent Garden, look through the window of Forbidden Planet etc.
Fuck it, I decide. I'll turn left and see what I can find.
So begins a wander through the northern part of the West End. Or the Southern Edge of North London. Or something.
Anyways, I find the weird victorian fortress where all the Barristers in London have their chambers. I find a church hidden in an alleyway off a swanky Holborn Street. I look through the windows of shops selling Pinstripe Suits and Legal Textbooks. Jules would have a field day, I think.
I also found the home of Kaim Todner, which amused me, since the Kaim of the Title was a regular at the Highbury Courthouse, and even offered to represent me if I wanted to bring an unfair dismissal suit against them.
I found boarded up pubs in Smithfield, and a dirty hulk of a building that I think houses the Smithfield Markets on weekdays.
Then I went searching for the Barbican Gallery, since I missed the Arraki Photo Exhibition early this year.
I found it, and had my mind blown. The Barbican centre is like something out of Neo Tokyo. A museum, a library, apartments, a theatre, a cinema, a fountain, a village square, restaurants etc. It has everything except except a supermarket. I'm definitely going to have to check it out when it is actually open (like everything else in London, it seems to close for Sundays).
Moving along, I also found The London Museum, St Pauls, the ruins of something or other, the bombed remains of a church, the band I got my first London Employment at and more.
Eventually I found my way down to the Thames, and crossed the bridge to the Tate Modern. I remembered that the last time I had crossed that Bridge, it was with my parents, and we were going the other way.
Turning left again, I walked along the Thames, looking at buildings on the other side, looking at the Globe Theatre, wandering through the back-alleys that lead to The Clink (ie the London Prison Museum), looking at a Dry-Docked sailing ship and wondering if it is bigger or smaller than the ships described in the Liveship Trilogy by Robin Hobb and still wandering down the Thames with a view to reaching Tower Bridge, as I can see it in the distance.
Crossing the river again I got talking to a trio of Goths - a neo druid looking chap, and a guy and girl. I joined their conversation when one of them started quoting a Bill Hicks monologue, and I finished it. Bill Hicks fans tend to get along pretty well.
Plus I had the advantage that they weren't Londoners. The Boy was from Southhampton, the girl from North Wales and the Druid from Dorset. Or something. They were internet pals that had come to London to meet up and go to Slimelight.
The girl had said to me: "You look like someone famous..."
I braced myself for the usual names, only to be hit with Bam Margera (!?) The Druid suggested Jack Nicholson. My hair must really be getting thin.
Anyways, they were friendly kids so we kicked around for a bit, as far as the Tower of London. Then I hung with them on the tube as the went to the Stations they had to go to in order to catch their trains to their home towns.
The girl told me that I looked more Welsh than Irish, since dark hair and blue eyes is more a Welsh thing. Hmm. Maybe it comes down on my Maternal. Grandmother's side. Then again, my Dad always had dark hair...
Tube to Camden to look at leather jackets at the markets. I decided to look for single breasted leather jackets that are more fitted than the voluminous Brando-jacket that I wear now. I couldn't find any that I liked for the right price.
I did, however, try on some New Rock boots (turns out I'm size 43). The funny thing is, I found the best price at the third place I checked (I'm checking Ebay UK right now, just for fun). I'll have to squirrel away some cash to get a pair.
While still in Camden I bought a Moorcock book at a second hand bookshop, along with another one called Confessions of a Dominatrix or something. Though it's the right size (fits in my jacket pocket), somehow I don't think that will replace Alice in Wonderland as my Tube Book.
I checked Cyberdog for Glowsticks, but they were fresh out. Guess it's the camping supplies store for me : ) I'll have to ask Nick to tell me where he got them for 90p each again.
On the way to Euston Station (Camden Station becomes exit only on Sunday Afternoons) I stopped in at a Waterstones and bought the Concise Oxford Dictionary and Concise Oxford Thersaurus bundle. The dictionary because I really want to be sure that I am using my vocabulary correctly (and Robin Hobb uses a lot of words that even I don't know), and the Thesaurus so that I don't find myself reusing the same words (eg Brutal, Discordant etc) in reviews.
Back here I uploaded the Destroyer 666 review. More gigs to review coming.
Anyways, that's enough for now. (I'm sure it's a ridiculous amount in any case).
Oh yeah: I met Ginger from the Wildhearts on Friday Night outside the World's End. He was actually pretty friendly, considering I had been led to believe he was a psychopath.
And here's photographic proof that Spring is trying to get Sprung in London.
I intend to ingest more Psychological Fibre starting this week so that I can be a Regular Blogger again.
Over and Out.
J
posted by the.exile at 5:31 pm
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