Hope Springs And Simultaneously Brings You Down

I'm in a bit of a limbo right now. A limbo of people, a limbo of life, a limbo of employment and a limbo of education.

I don't know what I really want. I've been pursuing new jobs and thinking about what I wanna do for Honours, what I'd like to do after honours (namely if i even wanna stay in university to do a postgrad or something beyond the degree). And then there's the writing and what that could bring.

Still it doesn't seem like enough. There's a still a vague and indefinite yet stark sense of want and entitlement within me and I don't know what it's really aimed at. I'm getting mighty sick of just going after things for the sake of wanting them, only to realise they're either unattainable, useless or not worth having anyway.

Life drags you in these weird directions and points you at these indiscriminate targets.

I Put My Face Close To The Fan Just To Hear My Robot Voice

Life is excellent for having those necessary (and ultimately deserved) good twists of fate. The twists of fate that are more like a delicious twisted inverted ankle.

Twisted seems to the theme of this post. Despite this, the day is sunny, I have some new choons on the go and the Letters review was well well received. And I'm getting to cover the Girobabies gig next saturday!

Awk aye, watch this space like a pot that doesn't boil

Who Rules the Waves? You Rule the Waves!

Tonight I did my first live review for shout, accompanied by my good friend and assistant for the night Vicky. I've never actually been to Captain's Rest before, but it actually seems like somewhere I would drink - minus the wanky and much maligned west end-ness.

funnily enough, new pub etiquette is never a stronghold, and at local gigs the crowdn is terminally cliquey and no one says much of anything to anyone outside of their sanctum. After not knowing where the gigs even are, trying to enter before the doors opened and asking the wrong guy about the bands that were on, I triumphantly waved me and vic through with our +1's. It was quite tempting to proudly announce my "I'M HERE FOR FREE" status to whomever cared to listen. Fuck it. Bought the main bands' CD single thing for £2 (gotta love socialism) and headed down.

First band (Who I wasnt reviewing) were sunny, cheery and witty! Cafe Disco they were called, notably because the guitarist and drummer happened to be females and the singer/bassist and other guitarist happened to be guys. A weird inversion of the standard co-ed pop band formula. But they were good.

Letters (who I was there for) - Also really good. Tried maniacally to get a hold of the setlist or find out the names of the songs, including trying to approach the suinger on stage. Enough upsetting the apple cart, I sat at the front giving it Bill Burroughs, frantically scribbling and sipping on some reasonably priced Rekorderlig. Luckily the chatty lead singer (interesting as the band donned black and grey and denoted themselves as 'dark pop') clearly announced the name of each song. Maybe he heard my psychic pleas.

So there.

Things I learned

• Captain's Rest is nice, cheap, convinient and has FUCKING AMAZING PA setup for gigs.
• It's cliquey as fuck

Ve Have Vays Of Making You Talk

I HAVE NEGLECTED YOU, ONCE WORDFUL BLOG OF THOUGHTS.

So I have. But not without good cause, and there certainly is plenty to natter about this weather. So much so, I have to organise it

• Visited Luton/Portsmouth. Highly unspectacular plane rides each way, oh and I got a bout of food poisoning/viral shit that left me incapacitated for some days. Luckily dear old mum took the reins and I was well looked after. and the first post-illness thing I ate was a big dirty footlong Subway. 
• Plane journeys are not all that bad. Perhaps it was 11-hour flighrs to San Francisco that traumatised the younger me and left me with deep emotional thrombosis but 50 minutes on a plane is analogous to 50 minutes on a bus. 
• Globalisation project is nearly finished. I've felt like my overall contribution to it has been less than up to scratch and my attention's been buoyed in other directions by other things. In a group setting I tend to be either a megalomaniacal yet benevelont dominator in affairs or I sit back and let someone more deserving extend the tyrannical hold and kick back, a bit. No one is perfect I suppose
• Other coursework... getting there, grasping but somewhow still alive. I have a multiple choice test tomorrow, to which studying for has become a laughable waste of time considering the sociology students have been inferred that the multiple choice test in question will be a piece of piss. Shucks if it turns out to be really hard, but what's a little 25% of your final grade here or there?
• I have a gig tomorrow also, the Letters I think. The first gig I've been assigned by shout4music, and truth be told with another review still to be done for tomorrow and this one to be a work of gonzo journalistic gold I really have to pull my socks up with it. Predictably, with leaving esure (more on that later) my attention for the music reviewing's slipped a bit what with being ill and uni work etc. I don't think I've ever been that good at juggling responsibilities, maybe everything crashing down in a hail of poorly planned ice is the necessary wake-up call someone terminally lazy like me needs.
• And I left Teleperformance and Esure. With pretyt much everyone I coalesced with gone too, it felt a bit more like Big Brother, with contestants gettng picked off one by one. My eviction was short and sweet, managers wished me well and my last day was sunny and to the point. After the drama of previous jobs and not being able to leave them in traditional manners, it was a nice end to 9 months of bitching about stupid drivers and many a many a night out. For all outsourcing agencies and car insurance companies get a bad rap (Call centres in general) my time there was relatively stress-free and actually, dare I say, a good laugh!

All goings on then, so alas blogs just need things to happen as fuel for said blog.

Another wee interesting ditty - I finally got round to buying and reading Disco Bloodbath, for a whopping £35 (It's out of print). Since vicky and I were introduced to Party Monster (the film based on DB) we, for all accounts based our lives and ethos' on the teaching of Alig and St. James. Back in 2009 (oh god that's like back in the day) we were dispossessed of jobs, glamorous social lifes with celebrities, sufficient income in favour of what I now look heartily back as kitchen-sink, un-domestic bliss punctuated with cheap food, merry drink and everything else we could get our hands on. And we rejoiced in our effortless shallow "Party Monster"-style ways. Reading the book now, 20 years old, somewhat wiser, beardy and older the accounts of the Club Kids' mentalness still rang a wee bit exciting and glamorous in its hedonistic roar. That sounded awfully wanky and pretentious, and I blame a book like Disco Bloodbath for igniting such literary diarrhea in me.

I would have news stories and things to comment on, but those have been forgotten about for now. I'm sure the world out there has to be a bit more glamorous than the world in here