And the story continues...
Hey All,
I was telling about the stuff I did yesterday (which might not seem so impressive once you've read it, but remember that Monday is not usually a productive day for me).
Anyways, Sunday Night I decided not to go to see Firebird in Hoxton, instead taking a catnap before waking up for two hours at 2 AM. I used the awake time to read the 'Why I write' book I borrowed from Stratford (which actually gets better and better), and make a list of stuff to do the next morning. It is a classic thing of mine that stuff I plan to do on a Monday usually gets sorted by Friday.
The next morning I got up early, went to DWP in Leytonstone to check the status of my claim and then took the tube to Stratford. At Stratford I bought a black pseudo-military jacket from a stall for £20. I am actually pretty lax when it comes to buying clothes (a combination of picky and stingy), but I liked the style of the jacket, and since the big leather jacket is getting a vacation over the summer, I need another black jacket (you can't wear a blue denim jacket with blue jeans in London, you'll be subject to Arrest and Rendition by the International Fashion Police, and next thing you know you'll be tortured in a basement in Milan or Covent Garden).
Walking out of Stratford Shopping Centre, I was flagged down by a Charity Mugger girl, who turned out to be from Melbourne. On hearing that I was currently unemployed (my usual response when confronted with people who want my account details) she told me that their organization is recruiting soon, and the job is both comparatively well paid and better than it looks (set hours, occaisional travel, not commission based etc). Since accosting strangers in the street is actually something that comes disturbingly naturally to me, I might look into it.
Straight on to the Library, where I returned the Robin Hobb novel I had just finished (I know it's not much to crow about, but I do think that finishing a 900 plus page novel in a week has to count for something... even if it's just one of my weird ADD inversions). I also fired up the Catalogue Search PC and put reserves on another three Robin Hobb books. If they all come in at once, I should be able to read all three before they are overdue.
Tube back to Leytonstone. While on the tube I mused that I was doing okay on my list of stuff to do:
Throw towels in the wash. Tick.
Wash Dishes: Tick.
Give Cecil £50 for the water bill. Tick.
Got to DWP. Tick.
Return book and reserve others. Tick.
From the tube I jumped on the 257 up the High Road, jumping off just across the road from the Turkish Supermarket. Just in time to cross the road adhead of the Girl With The Blonde Hair and Blue Velvet Coat (previously the Girl With The Tweed Coat, until last week). Just like every time I see her, I though about trying to strike up a conversation, but I decided not to, instead continuing on my way home (this put her behind me, with both of us going in the same direction; previously we have only passed each other in the street going different ways... this way it was much easier for both of us to avoid eye contact). All the way I could hear her swift clickclickclick of her heels on the pavement, seeming to take three steps to one of mine. I took this as yet another indication that without meaning to I make her nervous. Either that or she just takes really small strides (I take long strides, and always have done, lending me a walk which friends claim to be able to recognise at 100 yards... it makes me a little self-conscious sometimes).
Back at the flat, I surveyed the list, and made an addition:
Hang wet towels out to dry. Tick.
Punked out of talking to Girl In The Blue Velvet Coat again, for fear that she would think I was just another of Leytonstone's crazies. Tick.
Next I grabbed an envelope addressed to my Landlady and delivered it by had to her office at Old Street. I took the opportunity to look at the surrounding area a little. I nearly took a walk over to Hoxton, but decided to take the tube to Soho and look in the Music Software shops before the closed.
Which I did. Next a quick look in Forbidden Planet, where I found out that Avatar isn't yet available on DVD in the UK, and also considered buying a book by an English SF writer named Justina Robson. But I put that purchase on the Back Burner. Tube to Leytonstone, bought margarine and orange juice at Tescos (TICK), checked Email, Blogged and then legged it to the flat in time to watch Prison Break, which I enjoyed, even if I did nod off in the last fifteen minutes (I'll have to make sure I catch the re-run at 11 tonight, after LOST).
Today: Got up early, did Barbells and pushups and skipping. Had a cold shower for the second day running. Damn Boiler.
Tube to Oxford Circus to buy a ticket to Impaled Nazarene (I guess that I'm reviewing the show for those Finns), then a tour of the Music Megastores to try to find a copy of Psycroptic's album so that I could be more familiar with their songs before reviewing them tomorrow night. That took me from Oxford Circus to Tottenham Court Road to Leicester Square, to Picadilly Circus and back to Tottenham Court Road.
At Tottenham Court Road station I got talking to a chap I had seen in Virgin the other day, when he was wearing a Johnny Thunders shirt. Turns out that he plays guitar and sings in a local band called Smiling Strange (http://www.myspace.com/smiling_strange). More Myspacing. Heh.
Long story short: none of the shops had the Psycroptic Album. Turns out that it isn't even distributed here in the UK. That's annoying.
I doubled back through Covent Garden to see if I could buy the book from Forbidden Planet, only to discover it had just closed (the longer hours of sunlight confuse my antipodean sense of shops opening and closing). I walked back to Tot Court Road where I looked in Foyles and made more notes on the traits they want for a bookseller.
Tube to Leytonstone, reading and listening to Wildhearts on the iPod. Something about the Wildhearts makes resisting singing along hard work, even in a crowded tube train.
Tube Leytonstone Station to Flat to here.
And now here is closing.
Clarissa from Berlin comes tomorrow morning. I've message Electro Rose of Texas to recommend me some Electro Nights to pass on to her. Which she has. Along with her phone number. I am beginning to really suspect that she does like me. Or she is just reall friendly in that Texan Way.
Expect some philosophizing tomorrow, when I'm not just travelloguing my movements.
Just before I go:
On my music Reviewing/Writing: to those who wonder - yes, I am aware that even though I was a very talented 17 year old, my writing has suffered from my tendency to still write like a precocious teenager. I'm working on it.
And I ramble when I blog.
Gotta go.
Over and out.
J
I was telling about the stuff I did yesterday (which might not seem so impressive once you've read it, but remember that Monday is not usually a productive day for me).
Anyways, Sunday Night I decided not to go to see Firebird in Hoxton, instead taking a catnap before waking up for two hours at 2 AM. I used the awake time to read the 'Why I write' book I borrowed from Stratford (which actually gets better and better), and make a list of stuff to do the next morning. It is a classic thing of mine that stuff I plan to do on a Monday usually gets sorted by Friday.
The next morning I got up early, went to DWP in Leytonstone to check the status of my claim and then took the tube to Stratford. At Stratford I bought a black pseudo-military jacket from a stall for £20. I am actually pretty lax when it comes to buying clothes (a combination of picky and stingy), but I liked the style of the jacket, and since the big leather jacket is getting a vacation over the summer, I need another black jacket (you can't wear a blue denim jacket with blue jeans in London, you'll be subject to Arrest and Rendition by the International Fashion Police, and next thing you know you'll be tortured in a basement in Milan or Covent Garden).
Walking out of Stratford Shopping Centre, I was flagged down by a Charity Mugger girl, who turned out to be from Melbourne. On hearing that I was currently unemployed (my usual response when confronted with people who want my account details) she told me that their organization is recruiting soon, and the job is both comparatively well paid and better than it looks (set hours, occaisional travel, not commission based etc). Since accosting strangers in the street is actually something that comes disturbingly naturally to me, I might look into it.
Straight on to the Library, where I returned the Robin Hobb novel I had just finished (I know it's not much to crow about, but I do think that finishing a 900 plus page novel in a week has to count for something... even if it's just one of my weird ADD inversions). I also fired up the Catalogue Search PC and put reserves on another three Robin Hobb books. If they all come in at once, I should be able to read all three before they are overdue.
Tube back to Leytonstone. While on the tube I mused that I was doing okay on my list of stuff to do:
Throw towels in the wash. Tick.
Wash Dishes: Tick.
Give Cecil £50 for the water bill. Tick.
Got to DWP. Tick.
Return book and reserve others. Tick.
From the tube I jumped on the 257 up the High Road, jumping off just across the road from the Turkish Supermarket. Just in time to cross the road adhead of the Girl With The Blonde Hair and Blue Velvet Coat (previously the Girl With The Tweed Coat, until last week). Just like every time I see her, I though about trying to strike up a conversation, but I decided not to, instead continuing on my way home (this put her behind me, with both of us going in the same direction; previously we have only passed each other in the street going different ways... this way it was much easier for both of us to avoid eye contact). All the way I could hear her swift clickclickclick of her heels on the pavement, seeming to take three steps to one of mine. I took this as yet another indication that without meaning to I make her nervous. Either that or she just takes really small strides (I take long strides, and always have done, lending me a walk which friends claim to be able to recognise at 100 yards... it makes me a little self-conscious sometimes).
Back at the flat, I surveyed the list, and made an addition:
Hang wet towels out to dry. Tick.
Punked out of talking to Girl In The Blue Velvet Coat again, for fear that she would think I was just another of Leytonstone's crazies. Tick.
Next I grabbed an envelope addressed to my Landlady and delivered it by had to her office at Old Street. I took the opportunity to look at the surrounding area a little. I nearly took a walk over to Hoxton, but decided to take the tube to Soho and look in the Music Software shops before the closed.
Which I did. Next a quick look in Forbidden Planet, where I found out that Avatar isn't yet available on DVD in the UK, and also considered buying a book by an English SF writer named Justina Robson. But I put that purchase on the Back Burner. Tube to Leytonstone, bought margarine and orange juice at Tescos (TICK), checked Email, Blogged and then legged it to the flat in time to watch Prison Break, which I enjoyed, even if I did nod off in the last fifteen minutes (I'll have to make sure I catch the re-run at 11 tonight, after LOST).
Today: Got up early, did Barbells and pushups and skipping. Had a cold shower for the second day running. Damn Boiler.
Tube to Oxford Circus to buy a ticket to Impaled Nazarene (I guess that I'm reviewing the show for those Finns), then a tour of the Music Megastores to try to find a copy of Psycroptic's album so that I could be more familiar with their songs before reviewing them tomorrow night. That took me from Oxford Circus to Tottenham Court Road to Leicester Square, to Picadilly Circus and back to Tottenham Court Road.
At Tottenham Court Road station I got talking to a chap I had seen in Virgin the other day, when he was wearing a Johnny Thunders shirt. Turns out that he plays guitar and sings in a local band called Smiling Strange (http://www.myspace.com/smiling_strange). More Myspacing. Heh.
Long story short: none of the shops had the Psycroptic Album. Turns out that it isn't even distributed here in the UK. That's annoying.
I doubled back through Covent Garden to see if I could buy the book from Forbidden Planet, only to discover it had just closed (the longer hours of sunlight confuse my antipodean sense of shops opening and closing). I walked back to Tot Court Road where I looked in Foyles and made more notes on the traits they want for a bookseller.
Tube to Leytonstone, reading and listening to Wildhearts on the iPod. Something about the Wildhearts makes resisting singing along hard work, even in a crowded tube train.
Tube Leytonstone Station to Flat to here.
And now here is closing.
Clarissa from Berlin comes tomorrow morning. I've message Electro Rose of Texas to recommend me some Electro Nights to pass on to her. Which she has. Along with her phone number. I am beginning to really suspect that she does like me. Or she is just reall friendly in that Texan Way.
Expect some philosophizing tomorrow, when I'm not just travelloguing my movements.
Just before I go:
On my music Reviewing/Writing: to those who wonder - yes, I am aware that even though I was a very talented 17 year old, my writing has suffered from my tendency to still write like a precocious teenager. I'm working on it.
And I ramble when I blog.
Gotta go.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 7:39 pm
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