Hey All

Hey,

I just sent off a review of a demo of some Swedish Melodic Death Metal band to Morrigan's Pit.

I don't know when or if it will go up.

I'm out of time here. It's friday, I feel slightly sick and half dead, and I have no hard and fast plans.

Over and out.

J

You mean there are TWO LONDONS?

Hey All,

Last night I trekked into Islington, because I had opened up my Kerrang and discovered that there was a Front Line Assembly show listed as happening that night at the Carling Academy in Islington. Lately my usually hawkish gaze (when it comes to who is playing in and around London) has been diverted into such silly things as large books and trying to find a new job. So it was entirely feasible that there was a show by a seminal EBM outfit from Canada playing in North London last night.

Get to the venue, they don't know anything about it. Unsurprising, I've found that the staff in a variety of venues in London have no idea what is going on in their own venues one day to the next. I guess it helps them keep their stories straight when the police arrive.

I tried to find the show listed in a Time-out (nothing) and wandered up the High Road trying to find a copy of Kerrang to check what I had read. While wandering, I was reminded how nice Islington can be in a Summer Evening, when the pubs and restaurants are open and people are chilling in the street (I usually see this street on Sunday Mornings, when London is deserted, except for a couple of club folk emerging from their concrete boxes like nuclear war survivors rising from their fallout shelters, dazed, slightly sick and blinking in the sunlight).

While waiting I watched an Acrobat doing insane stunts in front of a crowd that were drinking at a pub on one of the corners. This included balancing on one hand on a beer bottle that in turn was balanced on top of a ten foot map thing.

Eventually I checked into an internet cafe, where some pointed googling told me that there was indeed a Front Line Assembly Show happening in London.

London Ontario. (ie where Clyo lives)

Nice work, Kerrang.

In any case, they are playing the Scala in a month or two, so I'll see them then.

Other news:

On the way to pick up my jeans from the Dry Cleaners, I stopped in at the Heart Foundation shop and perused their bookshelf. I picked up Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, In the Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, Something by Terry Pratchett and a copy of The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald (one of the books I was supposed to read in school, but I never quite finished).

I also saw a piano for £99 (tempting, but I suspect that a) my flatmates would murder me and b) I'd never get it up the stairs), and an Oscilloscope.

One of the blokes there was impressed that I knew how to pronounce Oscilloscope. A pretty girl who works there called it the Ossossillator. Which, being a pretty girl, is perfectly okay.

Strangely I remember thinking parallel thoughts about the character Daisy as I read The Great Gatsby on a train home last night. Beautiful people aren't necessarily less intelligent than others, but because they are beautful sometimes their thoughts are magnified by virtue of their being beautiful. Given a profundity they don't deserve.

Of course, thinking this way is probably a sure sign of a smug sense of superiority, something Fitzgerald (or even his protagonist Nick) could be accused of.

Another note:

I have discovered that if I google some of the full names of folk I know, sometimes this blog comes up in the first three entries. Sometime in the near future I will go through and edit the blog so that not so many full names appear, and in future I will be a little more circumspect about what I write, and about whom.

Not that I have written anything I am necessarily concerned about (neither libellious nor otherwise worrying), but all the same, I think I'll exercise due caution.

Come to think of it, I'm sure that if any pretty girls are reading this right now, they'll probably be crossing me off their Christmas List as I type.

No matter, over and out.

J

Hey All,

Yesterday:

Nenad's Austrian friend missed her flight to Berlin, and as such will be staying here in Leytonstone for a day or two.

I ran into her at Tesco while I was buying an inexpensive electric pencil sharpener (I had unearthed a bunch of pencils while re-organising everything). I had just gone there after sending another application to Foyles from the net cafe.

She told me that Scotland is beautiful, and that there is a Public School in Edinburgh that probably served as the inspiration (in atmosphere at least) for Hogwarts in Harry Potter.

Today:

Signed on at the Jobcentre. Two weeks time I have my 13 Week Interview. There was supposed to be some letter telling me about that, but I think it got lost in the works (I've had trouble with my mail lately in the block of flats). In any case the Jobcentre Clerk printed me a copy of the letter.

After that I dropped some too long jeans I've had for about a year in to be taken up, and then got talking to three student girls from Brighton.

They were heading to Barcelona. Alex, studying philosophy, a girl from Oregon studying pure mathematics name Monika and another one studying Geography, but I can't remember her name (strangely she was the loudest of the group).

We parted at Stratford, where I raided the newsagent, then headed back to leytonstone.

Later I returned Fool's Fate to the Stratford Library and borrowed a bunch of books, including Bertrand Russell's History of Western Philosophy, a couple of SF novels and a couple of books about freelance writing.

My early evening was taken up ironing the clothes that I had left drying over the last two days while listening to the La's first album (£3 at HMV - There She Goes is still one of my favourite songs of all time).

Tonight: reading my new books.

Tomorrow - onwards and upwards.

Time to go here.

Over and out.

J

More reviews etc

Hey Everyone:

I've been tapping away in my squalid burrow in the East End, and here's another review for you all (the walrus is Paul).

http://www.fasterlouder.com.au/reviews/events/5061/

Suck it up, marines.

Over and out.

J

Thinking about Jerks.

Hey All,

Last night was the last Saturday of the month.

Yep. Time for Strength Through Joy again.

Wore the knee high red docs over the skin-tight swedish jeans. To get to the venue I wore black combat trousers over the jeans and boots, in case anyone mistook me for a BNP activist (albeit one with very floppy hair).

Danced carefully for fear of splitting said jeans. The boots gave me blisters before I had even started, but they didn't bother me. Had a great time.

After the club, while I was waiting for a bus to take me down the street to Angel (and Slimelight) I was talking to a girl who knew me back in Brisbane about five or six years ago, before she moved to Sydney. She used to be on the door of a Gothic club that I would sometimes head to, after the Hardcore shows that I would go to earlier in the evenings. She told me that during that time I was a real jerk. She didn't describe how I was a jerk, she didn't give examples of any jerky action I took, she just told me that I had been a jerk.

That bothered me. I always like to think that I am a respected, if not univerally liked person, and I like to think that if I was a jerk I would remember it. As it was, my jerk-ness was news to me.

Granted, at that time the Gothic Community in Brisbane was basically a bloated corpse shadow of it's previous self, populated, with a few exceptions, by people I really didn't like (hence my spending so much time going to hardcore shows). The position I remember taking at that time of my life is that if I didn't like you, you didn't really exist to me. You were a caricature, vapid and dull. Your delicate sensibilities and precious feelings are no concern of mine.

Furthermore, I seriously doubt that I am often a jerk to people who haven't been a jerk to me first.

Of course, I realise that these things are probably indicative of a person WHO IS A JERK.

This bugged me all through Slimelight, where I still managed to distract myself by bopping to the music and talking to a German girl, who told me that she hated Australians. Something about Australian attitudes and lifestyles.

'I'm German. We're allowed to discriminate.'

'No you're not.' I countered. 'We established that in 1945.'

I seem to eat most when I realise I am running out of food. And I guess I act my jerkiest when I am worried that I am a Jerk.

Anyways, Miss Discriminating German didn't hold a grudge, and invited me to make a fool of myself on the dancefloor. I was tempted to tell her that I already had at Strength Through Joy (where a friend of mine describes me as one of the Kung Fu dancers, even though her Kung Fu is Greater Than Mine).

In any case, I ditched my jacket and bag at the cloak room and chatted to the friends of mine that weren't at STJ.

After STJ I hung back at Starbucks and then a Greasy Spoon Cafe somewhere in Angel, talking to Tapani (a Finnish kid), Dani (a clubbing friend of mine) and Richie, who was back from holiday and excited about the possibility that he might be interviewing Nitzer Ebb.

Discussions of dominant discourses distracted me from my angst.

By the time we all caught the tube to our various destinations, I was thinking along these lines:

It's possible I was a jerk. It was a complicated time of my life, with a lot of pressures on me from all directions, not all of which I handled well. (okay, most of which I handled badly.)

Still, I felt that I had the respect of those I respected, and most of the time I still feel I that I do.

In the past five years I know that I have had a lot to think about, and I have done my best to become the person I want to be. I am still trying to be that person. I'm not going to list my perceived faults here (that's a matter for some personal reflection, methinks), I will just say that I am working on it all.

Suffice to say that if I was a jerk five years ago, chances are I am not that same jerk now.

Nope, I might be an entirely different kind of jerk.

This much I know. If I have been a jerk and I know it, I usually apologize to the person I was a jerk to. Because I know I can be a jerk. I also know I try not to be.

Still, I do remember hearing the girl from Sydney (who is no doubt flying back their already by this time) speaking mockingly about a someone who was dancing in a curious, exuberant manner with his shirt off. They called him 'The Hairy Man', among other things.

It took me all of ten seconds to realise they were talking about my friend Callum, a cheerful, intelligent and friendly chap who always makes my night out that little bit better just by hanging out.

Nice one, girls. You judged a man without actually bothering to get to know him.

Who's the Jerk now?

Black Dahlia Murder Review Up

Hey,

The Black Dahlia Murder Review is up:

http://www.morrigans-pit.org/mp/live_dahliamurder180606.php

Also:

I sent the Grates Review to Fasterlouder, and I finished reading Fool's Fate by Robin Hobb.

That's all for now.

Over and out.

J

Hoidy Doidy

Hey,

I just sent off the Black Dahlia Murder Review that I wrote.

I'm not sure when it will be up, but I will post a note when it is.

Over and out.

J

Chipping away:

Hey All,

Yesterday I still had a huge Black Dahlia Murder boner, so I picked up their two albums from the Virgin Megastore, along with the Dresden Dolls first album. Then I got home in time to see Lost, which was expectedly weird.

Today I ironed the clothes I washed last night, and headed into London to get myself a Ministry Ticket. I had to get one for the Balcony, since all the tix on the floor are sold out.

I always wandered about, picked up miniature chest of drawers for my desk and bought some magazines.

Gotta go.

J

The Black Dahlia Murder show...

...was absolutely brilliant.

Mindblowing. Like being hit by a Sonic Tsunami that picked you up and threw you about by sheer force of the sound. Their stage presence was amazing, given that none of the members are really anything to look at (their lead singer is a slightly fat guy with glasses and a crew cut, but he is a monster onstage).

I'm trying to figure out how to write a review of them without sounding like I'm gushing all over the keyboard. They were that good. Seriously one of the best sets I have ever seen (and anyone who know me that I have seen more shows by bands than I care to admit).

I ran into Hilary's friend Katherine at the show, but I initially had her confused with another Eurasian girl that I know named Jessica... oh dear. Fortunately my reputation for making absolutely no sense to people worked for me in this case, as did the fact that it was really fucking loud.

Damn they were good.

Bear in mind that I'd had maybe an hour of sleep (not counting dozing under the tree in a park surrounded by post club goths), I was feeling a little down because someone slagged my AFI interview in a message board etc, but as soon as the Black Dahlia Murder came on they blew away all concerns and I became one of a horde of people headbanging and throwing the horns (seeing a bunch of flatironed metalcore hipsters forgetting themselves and headbanging is an experience in itself, and one I hope that all metal fans have a chance to see).

Today I started writing the review, threw some towels in the wash, and ironed my jeans. While ironing my jeans I played that album by The Sword, and for reasons unknown I felt happy with the world. Good music has that effect on me, even if it is dangerous for me to suddenly break into rockstar moves in my kitchen while I have a hot iron in my hands.

Tonight I buy more floss, since my old floss ran out and I don't seem to have a spare roll (I was sure that I bought two rolls, after running out recently... weird).

In another window I am reading a Warren Ellis interview, and I have just hit a line where the interviewer has asked Warren about being influenced by the Post Modern author Philip K Dick. It gets me thinking, what is something that is influenced by Post Modernism... Post-Post Modern?

Or does influencing something mean that the Post Modern has now become part of the Modern, and therefore that which follows is still Post Modern... the Pastiche and Recontextualization becomes another part of the collage.

Enough of these thoughts, I'll explore them another time.

Over and out.

J

Tired!

Hey All,

Friday night I decided I didn't feel like going out since a) Synthetic Culture has a past history of being a bad night out for me and b) I was going to have a busy weekend anyway.

So I stayed home, read, watched Jonathan Ross and went to bed.

Yesterday arvo was cleaning up, reading some more (finished Golden Fool, started Fool's Fate), and getting ready to go out. I was going to see The Grates at Frog for a FL Review.

I made it into Soho at about half ten. In the queue for Frog I met two girls, one of whom recognized me from when I was a Design Student at Morningside Tafe in 2000 (they were both Fine Arts students). That was trippy.

The Grates played at 1AM, I didn't manage to get out of the club til about half two (talking to people, including a girl from Melbourne), finally made it to Angel some time after three.

When I got to Slimes I managed to get a ticket to a not-terribly-secret Nitzer Ebb show in early July. Also got talking to some folk.

After slimelight we all wandered through Islington until we reached park on Highbury Place (or whatever it is) where I dozed in the shade of a tree while folk talked around me. Just after three I took a look at a small fair that was nearby, winning a small fluffy toy in a shooting gallery and taking a minute to chat to a girl in an Apricot coloured 1940s style dress.

Then it was the Silverlink to Stratford, the tube to Leytonstone and a walk to my flat, followed by a pressing expedition to Tesco to buy some food.

I want to get to the Black Dahlia Murder show early, so I am going to have to be mindful of the time from here on in.

Gotta go,

J

Damn these jeans are tight!

Hey all,

I am currently sitting in another net cafe (the one closest to my house closed before I could make it there because I was watching a show called 'Buildings that Shaped Britain' or some such. That's okay, I only wanted to come down here to quickly blog, check my mail (bugger all messages on hotmail, none on myspace, check other account in a seond... this machine runs slow for a new shop).

And I finally got around to road-testing the Cheap Monday jeans that I bought. And Goddamn are they tight. I'm-afraid-to-bend-my-legs tight. They make my legs look pretty damn skinny besides. Guess it's more skipping for me.

Still, they will look pretty boss with the 24 hole docs that I had Mum and Dad bring over (looking cool will be the main thing, since I think that between heavy boots and skintight jeans I can't imagine my usual frenetic dancing).

Enough about my questionable fashion choices. Today I made good on my threat to viciously clean up my room. I would say that the Re-Organising and cleaning up project is now almost complete. I have even gone a long way to cleaning up the corner of the living room where a whole lot of my magazines were languishing.

And I read a whole lot more of Golden Fool. The other day when I went in to the Stratford Library to cancel my request for the copy they had found, I found out that since my request, someone else had put in a request, so I figured that they would be happy (sorry if the occaisional typo is coming through, but I am typing quickly and there is a pretty girl leaning over the counter at the far end of the room... she looks East European (and she is pretty lean, which is a strong indication that she isn't from around here).

Anyways, today I cleared up all the magazines, flyers and random paper crap that has been lying around my room since I don't know when (I discovered, for instance, that I have had my iPod for just over a year now).

Damn that girl is pretty.

Where was I?

Oh yes: I put all the random pieces of paper in the file box, all my flyers in a plastic bag (I may yet buy a scrap book or something to put the better ones, design wise, in) and put all the books or magazines I saw on my bookshelf or into one of the magazine folders that now line the back of my desk.

My soundtrack while I was doing some of this was the Nihil album by KMFDM (I figured that Juke Joint Jezebel, with its huge gospel inspired chorus, would be good for cleaning up).

Once I was sure that a semblance of order had been imposed on my spacially anarchic living space, I pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and ran it over the newly exposed carpet. Of course, most of the dust was on my desk, since moving magazine and books which have been allowed to sit for months at a time releases stupid amounts of dust everywhere.

Still, it is all looking much better.

Last night: as I said, electro Rose of Texas had twisted my arm (which didn't need much twisting) to see her spin discs at a club in Soho.

Once I got there I watched one curious electro-rock band, followed by her dj set, where she did some nice cross-fading (not usually the kind of thing you expect from Goth Djs).

Anyways, while I was there I spotted my friend Alice (she who makes electro/ambient tracks on her PC in her bedsit in Camden) and chatted to her for a little bit, swapping notes over software etc and poking fun at the Norweigian Synthpop band that hit the stage.

Despite delays that were stil cascading after the cause at 5PM (someone had run onto the track at rush hour, putting everything out of whack) I eventually made it home.

I had better go.

Over and out.

J

The re-organisation continues...

Hey All,

I'm still re-organising my room.

My flatmate wants all of the magazines that have been sitting against the living room wall moved to my room, which is fine with me. I just bought more magazine folders from Bureau off Charing Cross Road. I'll probably put them on my desk against the wall, or stick them in one of the cupboards if they get in my way.

Or even get another bookshelf. Somebody told me that I didn't need to go all the way to Croydon since there is one much closer to my location.

Today I continued cleaning up my room, did some more barbells (three sets of 20 reps of about five ki's curled, plus three sets of three different kinds of lifts for my deltoids... I'm keeping to to five ki's a side since I haven't done regular lifting in a few weeks, and as such my strength and endurance aren't what they were).

In another window Hotmail is taking forever, with several 'Server Too Busy' messages coming up. Lousy Hotmail. I'm guessing that the World Cup means that everyman and his dog are sending huge emails back and forth (though that shouldn't really be different from the rest of the time, just different sending and receiving locations...)

In any case, the Fasterlouder Soundcheck has my AFI article at its head in the subject line. I haven't read the whole Soundcheck yet. [reads the actual souncheck] nope, Keane are the Headline of the Soundcheck actual. Nevermind. There is still a link to my AFI article.

Also today: I paid my rent at the bank (which was strangely empty for the time of day... I'm putting it down to the World Cup). I took the tube to Charing Cross road to buy Magazine folders, like I said, and on the tube home I met the drummer from a metal band called Cavalar. They band are playing a show tonight, but I think I promised The Electro Rose of Texas I would see her DJ set at JoJo's tonight at the time Cavalar would be playing (if she doesn't get enough people she says she'll be booted, so I had to promise to come).

A few weeks ago I had a huge crush on The Electro Rose. Now I'm not so sure. No matter.

I'm quietly amused by the news that the case against Kate Moss has been dropped (presumably since the drug dealers who taped video'd her snorting don't want to stand up in an open court and say 'yes, we are the scumbags who sold Kate Cocaine and then shopped her to the tabloids'.

I reckon that the papers have been too restrained with the headlines, though. I would have drafted them thusly:

Cops Case Collapses: Cocaine Kate Cut Loose!

Doesn't that have a ring to it?

Anyways, time for me to go home and keep clearing up debris.

Over and out.

J

Flat Packed Furniture Unpacked in my Flat

Hey Everyone,

Last night I unpacked and assembled the desk and the office chair that I bought at IKEA on Monday. Which was hard work.

Today I assembled the bookshelf and shuffled stuff around to fit it.

Currently the desk is covered with all the stuff I had to move off the floor to make room for me to assemble the desk.

The bookshelf (which, by dint of some shuffling and creative placement of stuff) fits neatly between the desk and the wall. The desk goes between the bookshelf and my bed, and the bed is flush up against another wall.

I should just tak a photo of it all and post it in the vicinity, but I want to clean up my room a little. As usual adjusting my room has given me an excuse to brutally excise the stuff sitting on my floor, but I still have a way to go.

As retarded as it sounds, having a bookshelf now means I have somewhere to put my books. So I have moved all the ones I could find from my closet, windowsill, desk, bed, under my bed, the living room and anywhere else I had books lying around. It makes me feel strangely proud that when you enter my room the first thing you will see (looking left to right) is a bookshelf with plenty of books.

I've still got plenty of cleaning up to do, but my room should be a pretty functional space when I'm done, not to mentio it will look a hell of a lot better.

It is already starting to look like a better living space. I don't know why, but moving my coat rack off the wall wher the desk is now and putting it perpendicular to my door seems to have opened my room up a bit. Even if it does cover one cupboard. But that is okay, I can both roll the coatrack away from the cupboard and take the things that are curentley in there (like my Invisibles collection etc) and put it on the bookshelf.

I got a message back from the Online Promotions Officer at Universal in Australia. She likes the article and Decemberunderground by AFI debuted at number three in Australia. (You don't really need to sell a hell of a lot of records to go to number three in Australia, but it is still good to know).

The upshot of which is that she says she 'looks forward to working' with me again.

Which is good. Tonight I'm having a quiet night in, apart from going to get some margarine and the new Kerrang.

One day I think I might waste an hour trying to chart how my different moods reflect the different kind of creative endeavours I feel like engaging in. IE do I feel like drawing when I'm down, playing music when I'm angry, writing when I'm happy, dancing when I'm manic etc.

I know that I tend to draw the things I don't know how to say. Or something.

I'm going to watch a KMFDM video in another window and then go hunting.

Over and out.

J

News News News

Hey All,

After posting yesterday, I was tempted to do the food shopping I desperately needed to do. But it was so hot that I figured that by the time I got from Tescos to the Flat everything would have melted, exploded or gone rancid.

So I went back to the flat, did some reading and then decided to head out to IKEA to buy a desk.

Go to IKEA. It sounds so simple, doesn't it.

Nope. Going to IKEA was a mission and a half.

First I had to take the tube to Stratford and the Jubilee Line to London Bridge. The I had to buy a ticket to go to Croydon on the National Rail (ie Oyster wouldn't cut it).

All this in heat so intense that English Men were walking around without shirts on. I had stopped at Stratford to buy a black Castro style cap from one of the stalls at Stratford Market. It wound up coming in useful in keeping the sun out of my eyes.

The overland train took me to East Croyden. But a fatality resulting from a traffic accident somewhere in Croyden meant that Trams and Buses were all running super late. So what should have taken me about half an hour took about two hours ie getting from East Croydon to Ampere Way (the location of IKEA, and some other hugs super-megastores).

Eventually I got there, at about half five. Luckily for me IKEA is open til Midnight on weeknights.

I took a look around and was happy to find that basic desks cost half of what I expected. So I used the extra cash to buy a bookcase, a swivel chair and a desklamp.

All up it came to about £65. Fortunately the delivery costs only came to £30. I was tempted to buy a neato wrought iron bedframe thing, but I already have a bed. And it would be a hell of a job to get it into my room.

Getting back to London was easier. Take the Tram back to East Croydon, then the train to London Bridge. A friend from Australia is touring as the keyboardist in the Grates (mental note: tell Elea he was asking how she is). I dropped him an SMS and then met up with him in a quiet bar on Harrison Road in King's Cross.

It was cool talking to him. He does a bit of writing for TimeOff in Brisbane, and he used to write for Fasterlouder, so I picked his brains a bit. Plus we shot the shit about Brisbane vs London and bands and people we knew etc. Me and him usually argue online, but we were cool face to face.

At about half ten we left the bar and I headed back to Leytonstone. I have no idea what time it was when I got home, but I just collapsed into bed.

I woke up pretty early. Like I might have said before, the extended hours of daylight here in Summertime London makes it hard for your internal Sundial to figure out what the time is, so I keep waking up really really early.

Some breakfast, so barbells, some reading, a shower later and some more reading later, I headed out down to the net cafe to check my messages before going to the Job Centre to sign on (every second Tuesday).

While I was checking my messaged I discovered that my AFI article is now up. Yay! The link is here.

http://www.fasterlouder.com.au/features/4931/

I reckon it came out okay, all things considered.

My Impaled Nazarene review is up at this location:

http://www.finnish-metal.net/index.php?page=../concerts/impnaz/impnaz-london-23052006

But I digress.

Signing on was easy enough.

Next I went across the street to Tescos to do the food and necessities shopping I needed to do.

Bear in mind that I couldn't get too far away from home, because I was expecting a call from the IKEA delivery dudes to say they were bringing my stuff over.

Of course, what should have been a smooth journey home was full of little delays. Fortunately when the call came through to my mobile I was just about to get off at my stop. They arrived ten minutes later (in time for me to fridge everything that needed to be cold).

Two big guys lugging stuff up to my third-story maisonette later, I was the proud possessor of a couple articles of flat packed furniture, which I unpacked in my flat.

Unfortunately I discovered that I would need a flathead screwdriver, a philips head screwdriver and a clawhammer to put the desk together, so I headed down to the High Street with a view to going to the Homewares shop towards Stratford a bit...

Just in time to get caught in a tropical thunderstorm.. Figure that one out. I sheltered in the guitar shop between the bus stop and Homewares shop and looked at a couple of basses.

Finally the rain stopped.

Got the tools from Homewares and walked back down the High Road, passing a car stopped on the Kerb with some smoke coming from under the hood. Then a lot of smoke. Pouring out. That's when I realised there was fire under the car as well. And flames started coming out from under the bonnet. That's when I realised I should probably back up a little, in case it blew.

Bear in mind that this was happening about fifty feet from a police station and a fire station, so naturally it took about three to five minutes for both services to arrive and start spraying the damn thing with water. With that extinguished, I let it be.

I took a look in the kittens in the petshop and came down here. Tonight I put together a desk.

Desk = place I can work where I don't have to a) wipe pasta sauce off the table before I can start work and b) pack up all my stuff when I'm done.

Bookshelf just means somewhere where I can put all the books I've been reading, which are currently just sitting in rough stacks around my room.

And that is where I sign off.

Hooray!

Over and out.

J

Just another Manic Monday (ooh ah)

Hey all,

It's 0940 on Monday Morning, and I have had a pretty quiet weekend.

Went down to Bognor Regis, and managed to make it there by 1400. The train ride to Bognor was uneventful, though I did decide against reading the copy of Bridget Jones Diary that I had brought along for fear of suddenly developing oestrogen poisoning.

I couldn't tell whether some teenage chavs at the station were calling me Emo, or whether they just have a stupid nickname/group mating call or something. Strange, I spend all my time in London, wear what I want and no-one tries to start trouble, I go down to Bognor and suddenly I'm wondering whether I'll have to crack some heads one minute off the train. I ran into Mum before I had to make any decisions, one way or the other.

I'm not a tough guy, I just find it rampagingly offensive when confronted with people who don't have anything better to do than through inaccurate slurs at strangers. Was I wearing a pair of skin-tight women's jeans belted around my thighs? Did my haircut and colour cost me £120? Am I 15 years old?

Screwit. Next time I go to Bognor I'm wearing my leather jacket and Motorhead shirt and Docs.

We stopped in at some second hand shops, including a second hand bookshop up there with the best of them in Camden (I bought a volume of Corum stories by Michael Moorcock, as well as Golden Fool by Robin Hobb (I didn't feel like waiting on the Stratford Library to find me the copy when it was there for less than a fiver)).

We were going to walk home, but it was hotter than Satan's Sauna and I had stupidly packed a heavy satchel.

We took a taxi to Elmer, then walked on the beach to Grandpa Bill's House.

Back to Elmer for dinner then I fell asleep at 8pm. I read the first few chapters of Golden Fool between 1 and 3 AM, then fell asleep again till five or six.

Unfortunately Bill and Isabella weren't coming over, since Isabella always gives me a serve for oversleeping.

Mum and Dad set to packing, we had a pub lunch across the road while the first England Match of the World Cup Played and then back to packing. I fell asleep for an hour while Mum and Dad packed, only to have to try to cram my books and the Conference Loot that Dad had given me into my already overfilled satchel. I wound up blagging an extra bag at the last minute.

The cab ride to Heathrow was okay, except I stupidly sat on the wrong side of the car again, meaning that I had bright sunlight on my face the whole way (unless we were going through some atmospheric English Woods Roads or some Scenic Villages with Castles on One Side).

I hate sunlight on my face. It hurts my eyes, burns my skin and makes me feel anxious that the UV is going to trigger a coldsore. Or at least give me wrinkles. I tried hanging up a bandanna between me and the sun, but too much UV filtered through. So I pulled a T-Shirt out of my satchel.

Eventually we got to Heathrow, where we said our goodbyes etc.

I used to Tube Ride back home to read some more Robin Hobb and listen to Neurosis. For some reason listening to Neurosis in Lush West London makes perfect sense.

Because of work on the Picadilly Line I had to take a replacement bus from Somewhere or Other to North Acton. Looking out the window or the bus, something gave it away that I was in an Australian Enclave, but I couldn't figure what. Looking back, I think it was the abscence of a the blanket of St George Cross flags, shirts and tattoos that is covering the rest of England.

I got home eventually, and I wondered whether I should have a shower then go out...

For going out: Might see one of the girls I met last weekend. Dancing is good for the soul. Now a Slimelight Member, might as well go often etc.

Against: My sleeping pattern has brutally snapped back to a healthy Day/Night balance, why ruin it by dancing til dawn and sleeping all Sunday. I swore I was never again going to a club just because a girl might be there. Every man, his girl and his dog are going to be at Downlode at Donnington this weekend anyway.

While I was deciding I started watching some movie about a blind violinist who has the cataracts cut off her eyes and becomes involved in a murder case, so I missed the last tube. No trouble.

Got up at five in the morning, and spent Sunday Morning washing clothes, taking catnaps, ironing clothes, writing a shopping list, watching the Sunday Omnibus Repeat of Hollyoaks and finally reading more Robin Hobb once I had run out of clothes to wash and hangers to hang clean shirts on. Lay down for a nap at three and woke up when it was dark.

I kept reading/napping until about 8 AM.

Today I'm collecting my Cheap Monday drainpipe jeans, shopping for food and planning my moves. Maybe going to Ikea in Croydon to look at desks (I was happy to find that the half price sale has been extended til 25th June).

And may do some writing. I don't know when my AFI interview is up. I really hope I haven't soured the editor on me.

Anyways, better go.

Over and out.

J

Another quick one...

Because I am running late.

Not as late as usual, but late all the same.

Whistlestop tour -

Wednesday to Thursday:

I decided it was time to get the AFI Article Monkey off my back, sick or not, exhausted or not, depression and psychic paralysis or not. So I sat up all night finishing the article.

In between finishing This Boy's Life (which, when I said I could relate to, I meant that I knew far too many women with abusive boyfriends... not that I felt like I was living in a small town outside Seattle in the early 60s).

Yesterday: the boiler was getting fixed (finally) so there was no time to get a nap, have a shower or any of that between going out to meet my parents at South Kensington Tube Station for an afternoon of perusing the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Instead I had an early lunch with my Landlady (who, as always, was great for a conversation) and left Leytonstone at 1200.

I was early, but my parents got stuck on public transport, so I had plenty of time to chill out, look in shops, pubs and art galleries and check out the Kensington Girls (the weather has turned really really hot over the last few days, so the girls of Kensington had responded by wearing really flimsy long skirts).

Mum and Dad arrived in due course, a quick lunch followed and then a wander around the V'n'A Museum. Which was mindblowing. Seriously. I am going to have to spend more time there. And take a camera and a sketchbook.

Tube to Leytonstone, discover note from FL Editor asking after the AFI interview, reply and upload interview, go home, hot shower (Hoo Fucking Ray!) and over to Highbury, where I was meeting Nadia, the solicitor I met at the breakcore party a few weeks ago, to take her to the Audition/Scare/Gay For Johnny Depp show at the Buffalo Bar.

Note: ran into The Gypsy on Harcourt Rd, who invited me to a rehearsal for his band.

The Audition were ordinary Emo rock, and the Scare damn near blew Gay For Johnny Depp clean off the stage. Nadia loved them.

Afterwards we took the tube, going our separate directions somewhere along the way. No kiss on the cheek this time, but she did have a good time. It's all good.

I went home and collapsed into bed just after midnight, waking up today just after five AM.

Today:

Running for the train to Bognor Regis today.

Going to do some reading/writing on the train.

Wondering whether to review the Scare again, and if I do wondering whether to mention that as soon as you turn your back they are chatting up the girl that you came in with. Cheeky sods.

Over and out.

J

I don't know why...

I don't know why...

But today I am in a bad mood.

Weary and worn down and bitter and mean.

I'll feel better in the morning.

Last night I couldn't sleep, so I took down one of the books I had bought for 50p at the Charity shop and started reading. The idea was to find something nice and boring so that I could get to sleep, since something that always seemed to happen to me when I was at university was that I would set aside time to read a set text, and I would wind up nodding off.

As it happened, I picked out This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolff, the autobiographical book that the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert DeNiro was based on. Like I said, I wanted something boring, and I figured that the self-obsessed scribblings of a middle-aged man writing about his traumatic youth would probably put me to sleep in no time.

Nope.

I read 120 pages before I forced myself to put it down. Then I read another 25 pages on the tube as I rode to and from Selfridges, where I had two pairs of Cheap Monday Stretch Jeans set aside (tomorrow I have to take them to the drycleaners to have them taken up four inches... damn my being short).

There is something in the book that resonates with me, even more than the movie did. There is something that scares me a lot as well.

Anyways, it is time for me to get out of here, since this techno taco stand is closing.

Over and out,

J

Pickitup Pickitup Pickitup!

Hey All,

Writing quick blog because I've picked the PC with the gammy spacebar again.

And I want to go home to watch Prison Break Season Finale.

Anyways, I'm still alive. And I had a good time dancing at Slime's on Saturday Night.

Gotta Run.

Over and out.

J

Snarf!

Hey Everyone,

I'm feeling a bit better today, both psychologically and health-wise (I don't think I mentioned it, but after Saturday I had a tickle in my throat that turned into one of my fabulous head-cold-flu things - minus the chills that seem to take me with all the colds I get over here).

Since there doesn't seem to be any bands on tonight, I might have a night in. Or I might go out and see a late movie. I was thinking of going to see Sunn-o))) at some art gallery thing but I was hampered by a) not knowing where the art gallery was and b) I confused the time it finished with the time it started. ie It would have been from 6 til 8, not 8 til 10.

Still, I don't think I'm totally sold on the idea of ear-splitting drone-doom being performed in front of a bunch of art gimps anyway.

Did I mention that the SixFtHick CD that my parents passed to me is fucking brilliant? Seriously, anyone in Australia who likes Rock n Roll should buy a copy. And anyone in America or the UK should get one mailed to them.

Last night I cooked myself a neato steak. Not the best I've ever had, but not bad. Especially since this week I've had this weird flat craving for I don't know what. I seem to be feeling one of my lull states right now.

Fuck it. Life is too short to lull.

Writing to finish.

Over and out.

J

Dammit!

Hey All,

I didn't get the job at Foyles. Which is a shame, for myriad reasons.

I didn't get a call, I got a letter from the head of HR: 'after careful consideration we have decided on another candidate whose experience and qualifications better match our requirements' etc.

I'll survive.

At least I know that I did a really good interview for the position.

Speaking of interviews, I'm still finishing that AFI article. FL articles are only supposed to be 1200 words, so I am paring it down. I also have a Parkway Drive Review to write for Fasterlouder and a Down Review for one of the Metal Webzines.

Speaking of which, Monday night I took the train out to Wimbledon again, then the bus to Kingston to go see the Parkway show. I nearly didn't get in, since I didn't have a ticket, but fortunately one of the Parkway dudes recognized me from the Mary Street Days and let me in.

After the Parway show I spent about an hour and a half trying to find a bus back to Central London before I managed to catch the N22, which took me on a winding journey through the South West of London, through some very green, leafy, well to do areas full of beautiful buildings, all the way to Park Lane in Picadilly.

Then it was the N8 home.

The long journeys meant that I got to break the back of the Why I Write book I had been trying to finish for two months, just like riding to the Heathrow and back allowed me to finish Feersum Endjinn by Iain M Banks.

This week, feeling depressed as I was, I managed to finish Fool's Errand by Robin Hobb. I returned all three books today, extended a few others and looked for any Iain M Banks books on the shelf (there weren't any, dang it).

I bought some magazines at the newsagent (Kerrang, etc) and doubled back on the Tube to see if the Leytonstone Library had Golden Fool (which I am still waiting on Stratford Library to find for me). And it didn't.

I'm glad that the boiler is getting fixed in less than Seven Days. I really don't know how many cold showers I have left in me. Especially since the weather is unseasonably cool.

I better get home and get writing.

Over and out.

J