Awh man. I wrote War and Peace about my recent mischeif and exploits, but then TF ate it and so now i'm in the huff. Lafe of late has been swishy and zoomy, and a wee bit spangly in places, I have a great big smile on my dish because I get paid to be dirty and they give me free bananas, and all is pretty bloomin fantastic.
Will update proper like, soon.
Hours spent underground: oh approximately 17
The equation Art + Booze = Happy CJ is never more true than when poverty is thrown into the mix. So, with a famished soul and an empty belly, I made my way along Sauchiehall Street from the depths of despair (Basement Level 2, the Archive) to the Glasgow School of Art Degree Show Opening. The hottest gig in town, the free-est flowing free booze in Boozeville (sort of), and I managed to get an invitation!
We downed as much pink ginger vodka stuff as possible, without looking like gluttons (there are special techniques for this); I reminisced about my art school days; I stopped myself (just) from insulting artists; and I didn't knock anything over.
I wasn't blown away, but then I rarely am at these things. I know what I like and I know it immediately. When I love something I love it and I must know everything and I must get the artist's details so that I can look them up when I get home and I must have a postcard and I must buy the book if there is one. There is nothing like it, but it wasn't happening here. Continue reading
OK folks, my band have a gig this coming Saturday and it's our first in ages and I'd hate a repeat of the last show we played so please, please, please come along if you're free. I know a lot of people who are on this page still haven't seen my new band so there's no excuse!
We're playing with Little Doses, who feature the bass player who was unceremoniously booted out of Snow Patrol last year.
What happens if the one you love goes from this to this?
Does it happen so gradually that you don't even notice?
Serves me right for fancying sleazy cigar-smoking Frenchmen.
London is a pretty good warmup for Tokyo. Hot, muggy, crowded, anonymous. Getting on the surreally sterile Heathrow express, Chris Eubank strides past me (tall fella) muttering insanely over to First Class.
First day not successful though. Improbably, every one of six contacts fell through for finding somewhere to crash. Last minute Saturday-night hotel search with heavy bags is NOT RECOMMENDED. Saying that the 3G web access on the new uberphone did most of the work, so the previous trip’s loss sorted me out this time.
Sunday much better. Proper booze-free sleep, out into searing sunshine to get Essential Equipment (an A-Z and Time Out). St George’s Cross everywhere (World Cup see). New places to buy gear, esp. the area Seven Dials. Pick up antique Fred Perry tank top and assorted paraphernelia for marathon GBA Final Fantasy IV session (YES). Pop in to see the X-Men film (enjoyed++) and mercilessly Big Brother myself to sleep.
Heathrow again today, everything going clockwork. Annoy the queue at Bureau de Change by conversing at length with cashier about Tokyo (“the most polite people on earth” apparently).
That’s me boarding for Hong Kong, gate 1. Next post either from Asia, or a short WTF AARGH LOL as the plane goes down Lost-style.
Yesterday was my last day at work. Today is the sensible get-everything-done day of shopping and sorting things out.
So naturally the ONE DRINK that we went for last night became an unstoppable tide of beer. Our guy JC was over from the New York office telling his frankly appalling (i.e. excellent) tales of excess in super-secret celebrity parties.
So my sensible get-everything-done day started at noon when I woke up in a hotel room with absolutely no knowledge of where I was or how I'd got there. I am still fairly pished now (4pm).
The notion of doing ultra-sensible things to make my trip go smoothly is very slippery just now. Holy, holy jebus.
So as you get older there are some benefits. You gain some serenity, relatively speaking. A more easily attained contentment. Tranquility. At the very least the ability to convincingly feign an insouciant air. YMMV.
In any case it's apparent that your added stability comes with a cost. More stability seems to mean you feel less wild excitement, or singing hysteria. A continuation of how your feelings change about Christmas, or your birthday. Increased control precludes uncontrollable feeling.
So recently I've been particularly resistant to childish excitement, particularly of the whooping-and-jumping-around kind (with a few girl-related exceptions). This year might be different though.
1. From a career point of view I've levelled up, if you like (+15HP, +1 INT, +1d6 damage). Got some heavy new 5kiLL5 and further control over what I do.
2. Added to that is the real inspiration on Doing Big Things from the relentlessly unpleasant Danieru.
So in two days I'm off for 5 weeks to visit Tokyo, London and New York, and decide what to do next.
I have contract work until September. I've abandoned the wildly ambitious plans for my flat, and decided to make it merely rentable. My anvil weight of material possessions is getting eBayed.
I have options. And for the first time in ages I am actually fairly excited.