The plot thickens
This is turning into a very interesting time of my life.
Last night I went to the Luminaire in Kilburn to see The Lilys and meet their manager, who Elea is sharing a house with in Brooklyn. The Lilys were surprisingly good. Their manager Yalan was cool, and she raved about Elea.
After that I was hanging out with them all (I meant to leave earlier, but I missed the last train back) and somewhere along the way we all went back to a house in Hampstead Heath, the residence of someone named Kevin.
Kevin was a tall, pale, softly spoken Irishman with slightly curly blond hair and glasses. He had guitars lying around the living room the way other people leave magazines, some spools of audio tape in a stack of boxes and a mixing desk covered over by something. I was sitting around with members of the band and other managers and agents etc trying not to be intrusive.
At some point I noticed an envelope addressed to the flat with the name 'Kevin Shields' written on it. I nearly had a heart attack.
Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine and Primal Scream! I've been a fan of his work since 1992/3, when his warped guitar sounds first came to my attention.
I spent the rest of the time willing myself not to be a gushing fan. Finally when everyone was leaving I told him that I didn't realise whose house I had come back to, and that Loveless was a great fucking record.
He took the compliment well, in a quiet aw shucks kind of way.
I took the N5 Nightbus back to Soho and the N8 back to Leytonstone. I think it was five AM before I got to sleep (I am not night owling so much lately... the summer sunlight is waking me up earlier, which means I am getting to sleep earlier... that and more exercise means I sleep better)
10 Am I was woke up by a phone call.
Background: I emailed Foyles last Friday about a full time bookseller position. I hadn't heard anything back from them since them. Yesterday I noticed that Foyles had put up another notice for Fulltime Booksellers, this time the deadline was 28th of this month. (I had actually gone into Foyles to buy a book).
This left me feeling a little down. Not only had they decided they didn't want to give me a chance, they had decided that no-one in this round passed muster, so they were waiting til someone really good came along.
Screw feeling down, I thought, I'm going to apply again. And again. And again until I get to the next round.
That's something I've learned lately. Nothing good comes easily, you need to persist.
Flashback over, back to the phone ringing at 10 AM.
I wake up and do my best 'Hello, I'm fully awake!' voice (Elea and Gus woke me up at Half Three the other night and thought that I hadn't gone to sleep yet).
The voice on the other end of the line asked me if I was interested in interviewing for the bookseller position at Foyles on Monday or Thursday. I reply positively and cheerfully, asking a moment while I open my diary. Inside I am doing cartwheels.
I chose Monday (the sooner the better, in my opinion).
I'm full of questions: what should I wear, should I get my hair cut, what questions will they ask and how should I reply etc. Should I wander in to Foyles and quietly pick the brains of the girl at the information desk to see if she can give me any pointers?
But I've got an interview! Neato Sweeto!
Just for good measure, I think I'll apply for the Part-Time Cashier job at Borders Oxford Circus as well.
Anyways, I have to end here.
I'm going in to the Universal Offices in London to hear the new AFI album at 3PM, and I have some errands I need to run before then (pull clothes out of the washer, buy food etc).
And tonight I see Every Time I Die at the Mean Fiddler.
But everything is looking very cool.
Over and out.
J
Last night I went to the Luminaire in Kilburn to see The Lilys and meet their manager, who Elea is sharing a house with in Brooklyn. The Lilys were surprisingly good. Their manager Yalan was cool, and she raved about Elea.
After that I was hanging out with them all (I meant to leave earlier, but I missed the last train back) and somewhere along the way we all went back to a house in Hampstead Heath, the residence of someone named Kevin.
Kevin was a tall, pale, softly spoken Irishman with slightly curly blond hair and glasses. He had guitars lying around the living room the way other people leave magazines, some spools of audio tape in a stack of boxes and a mixing desk covered over by something. I was sitting around with members of the band and other managers and agents etc trying not to be intrusive.
At some point I noticed an envelope addressed to the flat with the name 'Kevin Shields' written on it. I nearly had a heart attack.
Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine and Primal Scream! I've been a fan of his work since 1992/3, when his warped guitar sounds first came to my attention.
I spent the rest of the time willing myself not to be a gushing fan. Finally when everyone was leaving I told him that I didn't realise whose house I had come back to, and that Loveless was a great fucking record.
He took the compliment well, in a quiet aw shucks kind of way.
I took the N5 Nightbus back to Soho and the N8 back to Leytonstone. I think it was five AM before I got to sleep (I am not night owling so much lately... the summer sunlight is waking me up earlier, which means I am getting to sleep earlier... that and more exercise means I sleep better)
10 Am I was woke up by a phone call.
Background: I emailed Foyles last Friday about a full time bookseller position. I hadn't heard anything back from them since them. Yesterday I noticed that Foyles had put up another notice for Fulltime Booksellers, this time the deadline was 28th of this month. (I had actually gone into Foyles to buy a book).
This left me feeling a little down. Not only had they decided they didn't want to give me a chance, they had decided that no-one in this round passed muster, so they were waiting til someone really good came along.
Screw feeling down, I thought, I'm going to apply again. And again. And again until I get to the next round.
That's something I've learned lately. Nothing good comes easily, you need to persist.
Flashback over, back to the phone ringing at 10 AM.
I wake up and do my best 'Hello, I'm fully awake!' voice (Elea and Gus woke me up at Half Three the other night and thought that I hadn't gone to sleep yet).
The voice on the other end of the line asked me if I was interested in interviewing for the bookseller position at Foyles on Monday or Thursday. I reply positively and cheerfully, asking a moment while I open my diary. Inside I am doing cartwheels.
I chose Monday (the sooner the better, in my opinion).
I'm full of questions: what should I wear, should I get my hair cut, what questions will they ask and how should I reply etc. Should I wander in to Foyles and quietly pick the brains of the girl at the information desk to see if she can give me any pointers?
But I've got an interview! Neato Sweeto!
Just for good measure, I think I'll apply for the Part-Time Cashier job at Borders Oxford Circus as well.
Anyways, I have to end here.
I'm going in to the Universal Offices in London to hear the new AFI album at 3PM, and I have some errands I need to run before then (pull clothes out of the washer, buy food etc).
And tonight I see Every Time I Die at the Mean Fiddler.
But everything is looking very cool.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 11:20 am
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