London streetlight
Monday, May 30, 2005
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Homelands festival
Sorry no photos but I didn't want to risk losing my uninsured camera.
Homelands - first festival of the season. Set in Winchester, rolling green country side and long grass. If you wanted to you could climb a hill and roll down it, flattening the grass to make crop circles.
Mylo - classy breaks and fat (phat? - ergh hate that word) bottomed bass lines, nice electro. Certainly my favourite of the day.
Beck rolled up, looking cool and did his post-modern take on Funk thing with cryptic rhymes. Strange skinny man dancing on stage. Realised I was working too hard and had probably consumed too many chemicals when I thought he looked like a young Bill Gates.
Roots Manuva, good UK hip hop. Love the deep basso voices.
Human League - talk about untalented and overrated washed up wannabees. But I wanted to hear 'Don't you want me, baby' and the kiwi couple I was hanging out with were more keen than me to see them. The girls couldn't even sing in tune. Everyone in the tent looked too drugged to escape from the soulless tunes. Dreadful.
Then
Now
Don't you want me, baby? I certainly don't.
Andy C - dropped a killer. The quickest and best hour in the early morning. This guy got me through those final hours.
Homelands - first festival of the season. Set in Winchester, rolling green country side and long grass. If you wanted to you could climb a hill and roll down it, flattening the grass to make crop circles.
Mylo - classy breaks and fat (phat? - ergh hate that word) bottomed bass lines, nice electro. Certainly my favourite of the day.
Beck rolled up, looking cool and did his post-modern take on Funk thing with cryptic rhymes. Strange skinny man dancing on stage. Realised I was working too hard and had probably consumed too many chemicals when I thought he looked like a young Bill Gates.
Roots Manuva, good UK hip hop. Love the deep basso voices.
Human League - talk about untalented and overrated washed up wannabees. But I wanted to hear 'Don't you want me, baby' and the kiwi couple I was hanging out with were more keen than me to see them. The girls couldn't even sing in tune. Everyone in the tent looked too drugged to escape from the soulless tunes. Dreadful.
Then
Now
Don't you want me, baby? I certainly don't.
Andy C - dropped a killer. The quickest and best hour in the early morning. This guy got me through those final hours.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Marketing for the differently abled
1. Avoid using terms that engender discomfort, pity, or guilt, such as suffers from, stricken with, or afflicted by.
2. Avoid mentioning a disability unless it is pertinent.
3. Include people with disabilities in art and illustrations, showing them integrated in an unremarkable way with other members of society. In drawings of buildings and blueprints, show ramps for wheelchair accessibility.
2. Avoid mentioning a disability unless it is pertinent.
3. Include people with disabilities in art and illustrations, showing them integrated in an unremarkable way with other members of society. In drawings of buildings and blueprints, show ramps for wheelchair accessibility.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Thursday, May 19, 2005
New shoes
Today I bought new shoes. Wow, you say. Well the reason I bought new shoes is because my old ones looked like little animal corpses. Smell a bit like them too. Yet, for some reason, I can't bear to throw them away.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Iggy Pop is a genius
"I'll tell you about punk rock. Punk rock is a word used by dilletantes and heartless manipulators about music that takes up the energies and the bodies and the hearts and the souls and the time and the minds of young men who give what they have to it, and give everything they have to it. And it's a term that's based on contempt. It's a term that's based in fashion, style, elitism, satanism and everything that's rotten about rock'n'roll.
"I don't know Johnny Rotten but I'm sure he puts as much blood and sweat into what he does as Sigmund Freud did. You see, what sounds to you like a big load of trashy old noise is in fact the brilliant music of a genius, myself.
"And that music is so powerful that it's quite beyond my control and when I'm in the grips of it I don't feel pleasure and I don't feel pain, either physically or emotionally. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Have you ever felt like that, when you just couldn't feel anything, and you don't want to either, you know? Like that? Do you understand what I'm saying, sir?"
A genius and also a very odd looking man
"I don't know Johnny Rotten but I'm sure he puts as much blood and sweat into what he does as Sigmund Freud did. You see, what sounds to you like a big load of trashy old noise is in fact the brilliant music of a genius, myself.
"And that music is so powerful that it's quite beyond my control and when I'm in the grips of it I don't feel pleasure and I don't feel pain, either physically or emotionally. Do you understand what I'm talking about? Have you ever felt like that, when you just couldn't feel anything, and you don't want to either, you know? Like that? Do you understand what I'm saying, sir?"
A genius and also a very odd looking man
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Monday, May 16, 2005
The interview
The idiocy of forgetting my umbrella in London on the day I have a job interview, and arriving dripping wet and late. I didn't realise that changing lines at The Bank would include a 15 min hike up and down stairs in my ridiculous interview stilletos. Was wobbling on my heels like a faun and arrived with mascara running down my face.
Disaster. They were cool about it though. Seemed to have made up their mind anyway.
Graeme had a Paddington Bear narrator type of voice, while Andy thought he was Simon Cowell meets Vin Diesel, yet it was Graeme who played the 'bad cop' with the harder questions.
Went well though. Very well. But do I want to return to IT Journalism? Or do I stay in my horrible job, take a 'career break' and concentrate on saving my pennies for 3 more months - then go home and get a real job. If I took the job, I'm agreeing to stay a while longer. I don't think I can do it - live in London. Too think I wanted to come here for so long, but when I finally have the money I have something worth a lot more at home to give up. And I do it anyway.
Life rarely turns out the way we want it.
Appealing to stick it out and get the f* off money, then shoot to SA and Inca alone and then jump off a big cliff. Life complete. Woodbunny out.
Disaster. They were cool about it though. Seemed to have made up their mind anyway.
Graeme had a Paddington Bear narrator type of voice, while Andy thought he was Simon Cowell meets Vin Diesel, yet it was Graeme who played the 'bad cop' with the harder questions.
Went well though. Very well. But do I want to return to IT Journalism? Or do I stay in my horrible job, take a 'career break' and concentrate on saving my pennies for 3 more months - then go home and get a real job. If I took the job, I'm agreeing to stay a while longer. I don't think I can do it - live in London. Too think I wanted to come here for so long, but when I finally have the money I have something worth a lot more at home to give up. And I do it anyway.
Life rarely turns out the way we want it.
Appealing to stick it out and get the f* off money, then shoot to SA and Inca alone and then jump off a big cliff. Life complete. Woodbunny out.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
The Hate All Men stage
Wednesday night - Out to dinner with Keryn. Dinner was 2 bottles of wine and a small bowl of patatas bravas. The waiter winkedat me as he served the calamari. Think I loudly rubbished all men, and then volunteered to join a triathlon team.
Thursday – after work drinks. Met an Aussie guy that moved to London and shagged some girl so he could stay at her place rent free, but then dumped her for another girl who loved closer to his tube line. What kind of man is that? Believe I told him what I thought of that, so not winning any friends in the office. Of course, his boss is a woman and he's doing pretty well at the firm. 'You give me a raise and I'll give you one.'
Friday – bizarre. Was on way to gym, but ended up in pub. Next thing I know I'm in a hip hop bar called Trash and Treasure in Brick Lane. There is a rumour that David Hasselhoff is in the pub. Excellent hiphop but lots of bad bald geezers in flouro dancing like it'sManchester 1990.
Met a girl that had been to an Advertising Firm's Asian themed party and got a t-shirt made up that said 'Ming Vase', but due to a printing error the t-shirt actually said 'Minge Vase'. This is why copywriters and sub-editors are important!
Jumped in a minicab home with a short Indian man called Harsh, who tried to kiss me goodbye and I spun around so fast to avoid it that I smashed my head on the car door. His name means 'the one who brings love and gifts to the village of Arshta' – but not to the town of Putney.
Saturday – horrendous hen's booze up from hell – all day at Brighton. Got told by some obese whiskey nosed geezer that I look exactly like someone's sister – except she's prettier. "I mean, you're alright. But this girl is really pretty. I mean hot." Thanks mate. And you look like Rodney Dangerfield, except more decrepit.
The bride to be gets horrendous text message from fiancé stag saying 'I don't hate you but…' (what an opening) 'you are on the brink of losing me'. Spend night hugging her and telling her she's awesome and men are rubbish.
Decided that by the time my hen's night comes up, all the hens will have zimmerframes and dementia.
Return to London at 1am. End up stranded in city due to train strike, with girl from work who tells me about the end of her long distance relationship (LDR), and how she thinks about it. Everyday. Every minute. 'When was that?', '10 years ago'. She is now a bitter mid-30's chain-smoking lush with a voice like a gurgling ashtray. So there is hope for me.
Thursday – after work drinks. Met an Aussie guy that moved to London and shagged some girl so he could stay at her place rent free, but then dumped her for another girl who loved closer to his tube line. What kind of man is that? Believe I told him what I thought of that, so not winning any friends in the office. Of course, his boss is a woman and he's doing pretty well at the firm. 'You give me a raise and I'll give you one.'
Friday – bizarre. Was on way to gym, but ended up in pub. Next thing I know I'm in a hip hop bar called Trash and Treasure in Brick Lane. There is a rumour that David Hasselhoff is in the pub. Excellent hiphop but lots of bad bald geezers in flouro dancing like it'sManchester 1990.
Met a girl that had been to an Advertising Firm's Asian themed party and got a t-shirt made up that said 'Ming Vase', but due to a printing error the t-shirt actually said 'Minge Vase'. This is why copywriters and sub-editors are important!
Jumped in a minicab home with a short Indian man called Harsh, who tried to kiss me goodbye and I spun around so fast to avoid it that I smashed my head on the car door. His name means 'the one who brings love and gifts to the village of Arshta' – but not to the town of Putney.
Saturday – horrendous hen's booze up from hell – all day at Brighton. Got told by some obese whiskey nosed geezer that I look exactly like someone's sister – except she's prettier. "I mean, you're alright. But this girl is really pretty. I mean hot." Thanks mate. And you look like Rodney Dangerfield, except more decrepit.
The bride to be gets horrendous text message from fiancé stag saying 'I don't hate you but…' (what an opening) 'you are on the brink of losing me'. Spend night hugging her and telling her she's awesome and men are rubbish.
Decided that by the time my hen's night comes up, all the hens will have zimmerframes and dementia.
Return to London at 1am. End up stranded in city due to train strike, with girl from work who tells me about the end of her long distance relationship (LDR), and how she thinks about it. Everyday. Every minute. 'When was that?', '10 years ago'. She is now a bitter mid-30's chain-smoking lush with a voice like a gurgling ashtray. So there is hope for me.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Barren piece of earth
Does it make sense to sacrifice my one and only life for this desolate patch of soil from which no shaft of grain would ever spring?
Something was torn out of me. I have lost weight. Perhaps this weight is the exact weight of my heart. But why do I feel as heavy as a stone.
Think like a stone. The only thing a rock knows is how to fall.
Something was torn out of me. I have lost weight. Perhaps this weight is the exact weight of my heart. But why do I feel as heavy as a stone.
Think like a stone. The only thing a rock knows is how to fall.
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