Thursday

grilly tries observational comedy

please visualise in a smoky bar, with bare brick walls, canned laughter and an Australian Question Inclination.

you know, when you go out drinking? and you have a really meaningful thought, and write it on your hand before you go to bed? and you wake up in the morning and read and have no idea what it related to? and you're like *throws arms outwards (including one holding microphone, although not as far)* 'Faaaarck! what does it mean?!'

'Ann Mitchell'.

in this case, i was going to bed and thought: i smell like Ann Mitchell's old cottage.
i loved that place.

tuesday was a good day for shopping, but a bad night for sleeping. to wit: i picked up Micheal Jackson's Great Beer Guide in a charity shop, bought Dillinger Escape Plan/Poison The Well/Ephel Duath tickets for Laurence, Thom, and I, bought a few post cards, picked up our free chocolates from sainsbury's (a card through the door, 'happy birthday laurence', meant for the previous tennenant - not really that wierd, before you start) and toilet paper, as well as organic cheese and some very nice humus. i bought a brand new radio alarm clock. we had chip kebabs for tea (dude, it was solid salad. healthy! ok, so the chips might be a wee bit carcinogenic..) and then before bed, i had a cheese and humus sandwich. well i had to. i know. ever since i read that episode of Desperate Dan, i've known you should never eat cheese before bed. i didn't need it or anything; it was just they were both so new. well; i slept badly, what can i say? woke up in bed with the electric guitar - i think the first time i've ever actually slept with a guitar. alarm went off at eight; i sat and listened to the news for an hour. turned it off and put Andy's Nes Advantage inspiration disc 2 on (you know, the one with 'death of a disco dancer' on). listened to it all the way through (kept thinking, oh! i can't go and make a cup of tea now - 'do the Manta Ray' {or whichever track} has just started). and then fell asleep again for the next two hours. dreampt of being on a double decker bus in indonesia, which hit MC Cake (who was riding a bike) and started toppling and spinning and reeling, 'like Norman Wisdom pretending to be lost in a hotel corridor'. and then i dreampt of the Opwall reunion (to which i won't be going, contrary to popular mis-belief), about ten of was walking through an estate to get there, and the local scallies start hurling bottles at us, one of us gets into proper fistycuffs, and then police arrive in a sideways car, and they're all really tall, and i think one looks like the lead singer of Proudhon. (holy fuck! Trencher did a split 5" with http://www.millionraces.com/orthrelm.htm!!??! and while i'm on the brighton music scene, which i've been completely out of touch with, The Phil COllins Three have a rather excellent site, and a new video of Pants And Vest! and tonnes of great flash stuff) and then it was wednesday of course. i bought a big bin. andthen laurence and i went, with Dan and his girlfriend and two other people (i dislike not knowing everyone on a night out) to the music library for indie night! at one point, they were playing some shit that no-one in their right mind would dance to, but everyone did, so i perched on the end of the bar. and a bouncer came over and gave me a right bollocking! now you have your hieararchy. i'm not a criminal; i wasn't attacking anyone, or being aggressive, unlike him, who was only creating a good deal of tension in the club, where there wasn't any before.
this guy is a fantastic drummer. i've seen him. i think he used to live with Yentz.
it was a good night. Ewa was there! Laur said she would be. but she's going back to manchester in february, so i'd better get round to seeing her loads before then.

and how can they play Interpol (fuck it, no more links, i'm just going to finish up) after Joy Division? as a celebration of how far we've come? i say this because i found Antics in a temp folder on a uni computer, stuck it on my mp3 player, and i have to say i'm unimpressed with it. it all sounds so ordinary, to the point of being rubbish. sorry thom, who i know really likes that record. but at least i don't even have to say that Keane are shite, Andy. Jeffry lewis is where it's at.

but why don't i feel super?

oh god. there's a new leisure suit larry game.

bye later!

quick edit: detecting a theme in Gillen's work; on Vampyre: the Masquerade:
I found myself gleefully playing a femme fatale for the majority of the game...


on Everquest:
My character is a seven-foot Amazonian woman.


when i find more examples, i'll post them. but then, don't we all like a bit of eye candy? wasn't that the idea behind Lara Croft - who wants to watch a builder's arse for the duration of the whole game?

and the thing about joy division is... well to eb honeset, i don't they're that good either. seeing a live performance of transmission on Peel Night, BBC2, years ago, was life-threatening. but listening to Substance, courtesy of one David Lulhan's temp folder, i'm not that impressed. yes, Transmission; yes, She's Lost Control; very yes, New Dawn Fades (absent from this compilation); yes, Atmosphere (number one song in all time festive fifty); okay, Love Will Tear Us Apart. but Leaders of Men? Dead Souls? No Love Lost? i don't get it yet.
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