my own private hidey-hole

I have deduced that yoga really does help my back of DOOM.

Unfortunately I have only come to this conclusion due to missing 2 weeks in a row (once due to excessive partying (NB: - NO SUCH THING) and one due to lack of instructor. And having, once again, a woefully painful back. Joy.

***

Nowt to say today, internet, I'm off to have my voice recorded for larks. Well, I find it strangely fascinating, I don't know why. Well, I say I don't know, but clearly I just like having ALL THE ATTENTION FOCUSED ON ME ME ME. Blimey, sometimes I find myself insufferable.

Later kids!

despite a brief break for work on Thursday, the stuff kept continuing.

Thursday evening I took the wife for dinner locally, to the Village Kitchen, which was nothing inspiring but alright. I had some goose-y pate, very tasty mackerel, and got carried away and also had a creme brulee and demanded some tasty port. Yum! Slightly tipsy by then, I turned down Fullmooners. Twice. (A good decision as it turned out.) Bed. Sleep.

***

Which meant I was sprightly and not dead on Friday, phew! Had a tasty Wimpey with curiousbadger (what is it about Wimpey in Wembley? It's always RAMMED!) and then headed up to the arena, over excited about Meat Loaf!! Purchase of 1x slutty Loaf t-shirt and 1x fridge magnet complete, we took our seats. Good seats! Closer than the Take That seats some while back. I could see without glasses! Phew!

It is the Three Bats Tour, so he opened with Paradise by the Dashboard Light (making it EVEN LONGER than it usually is, an almost impossible feat!) and did Bat I stuff, followed by Bat II and then Bat III. Everything you'd expect to hear was there, with the notable exception of Dead Ringer for Love, bad Meat. He was in quite a sulky foul mood too, at one point taking an audience member to task for screaming. Don't have a breakdown chap, I still love you! And I *know* you've been playing some of these songs for longer than I've been alive, but REALLY, don't mess them around so much. Too slow / incomplete / yawn. :(

Suffice it to say, he wasn't half as good as the last time I saw him. Perhaps that time was only so good as he didn't have a new album to plug. I dunno. My highlight was Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through which is quite possibly my favourite of his. After Hot Summer Night (too slow) and Bat Out of Hell (last of the main set and done properly, phew!). He encored with some rock covers, finishing on Gimmie Shelter. Seriously though, in what world is that better than Bat.....?

P'shaw.

Still, there was fire, comedy, and scary inflatable giant people, plus the songs still stand. We had fun at any rate. Literal dance moves ftw!

***

Saturday I had halfheartedly decided to go to Paradise Gardens. But got distracted by Walthamstow Market (heaps of denim duly bought for cheap, slightly cheating I know.....) and tidying my room. Oh shush, sometimes the mood takes you that way. Of course, once I'd found Talk to Me by the 60 Foot Dolls I was actually physically unable to leave the flat at all.

[Honestly, you think you grow and your music taste matures, but the moment I listened to Angel and Easy (the b-sides) I had to listen to them again and again and again. Just like when I first bought it. Slag 'em off all you want, they have a special place in my heart. What are they doing these days? I can't even remember their names. Carl, I think, was teh drummer, rumoured to enjoy sh1t-play. Oh, and Richard Parfitt (not that one) who, popular indie legend would have it, once received Rick Parfitt's (yes that (Status Quo) one) tax bill.

But your name *is* Richard Parfitt?
And you *are* a musician?

I wonder if it was true....]

Anyway, the evening contained much lovely massage, lovely Devastations CD and lovely sleep. Lovely. Innit.

Also, lovely Doctor Who, with a brilliant episode. I can't cope with the evil scarecrows (don't give *them* brains, argh!) but thought Mr Tennant was being superb, and Jessica Stevenson lovely (oh count them of you wish, I don't care :P) and I can't wait for next week.

***

All of which meant that I was up early on Sunday again (!!! two days in a row!!!) and actually went to the gym for my first ever yoga class.

Oh my! It's *wonderful* isn't it? I don't think my shoulders have been so relaxed in over 10 years. Blimey. Who'd have known that a leathery Essex woman and some dubious New Age Music could work such magick charms! If all that happens is that I relax properly once a week I'm a convert. Actually, it's a bit like the meditation I used to do at the Croydon Buddhist Centre in that respect. (Sssh, I *really* liked the Beatles, alright?)

Kept up with most of the postures, although am a bit rubbish at things like 'down facing dog' and 'the plank' due to rubbish arm strength. I mean, how can I punch people so hard I almost stop their heart (sorry again Rob!) and not support my own stupid body? Give it time. I plan to be back there every week. We shall see.

Due to messing up the start time and no trains OR tubes out of Walthamstow, I failed miserably to get out to games day at Clairey & Johnny's mansion (sorry chaps!) and just about had time to head West to Hammersmith, for a mini pub crawl along the river before the Pet Shop Boys.

Errr, yes. Evil wine lead to speedy inebriation, I do apologise people! However, the PSBs are completely and utterly MARVELLOUS. Seriously. Everything they played was a classic. They have so many! And they played them properly. Listen up, Meat. They were so good, I'm going again on Wednesday. I shall be drinking less though.

***

Monday was therefore a washout. And not just because of the rain. Headache. Cold. So bed and duvet and BURNING pizza were the only ways forward.

Got this far? Have a medal.

***

( Or some (rubbish cameraphone) random Meat Loaf pictures! )


***

Who am I going to see at 7ish in the Bull & Gate tonight then?

Dentists again this morning. He wasn't drunk or hungover! In fact, he appears to be Swedish. I'm not sure why this is comforting. He also keeps getting, and answering, phone calls whilst he has a drill in my mouth. Hmmm.

Anyway, I'm all fillinged up, and happy. Back in 6 months. White fillings are ace, and in fact were even less expensive than I feared, as apparently I've had 4, not 3. Eeep. The topography of my mouth feels very strange though, all those weird spikey bits that I can't help feeling with my tongue have gone! What shall I play with now? Oh yeah, I still have my (comfort blanket) tongue stud :)

***

Took a top back to Top Shop on my way into work (I shouldn't have done this, in fact I shouldn't be here, am Very Behind and desperately trying to catch up!) and had a look at some of the Kate Moss* stuff. Errr, what's the fuss chaps? Not. Impressed. Although the yellow and black stripey hotpants are quite cute. Must not tempt self. Will be 30 next year. Cut down on hotpants!

***

There's a lot more stuff going through my mind, about body image and all sorts, but a)I don't want to seem like the stupid version of perfectlyvague and b)I'm a bit private about that sort of thing, so I'll more than likely stick it in a private entry.

Instead, I'll tell you that I keep hearing Fall Out Boy on the iPod on shuffle, and thinking "oooh this is good, who's this? lovely melodic rock..." I have gone beyond the realms of help. Oh well!

***

Oh and I made a feed for Ron if you want it: ronaldxrss

And and! Gilbert & George @ Tate Modern finish soon don't they? Is there an organised plan? If not, I may pop in on a lunchbreak.....




* shewho fact for all you fact fans! Kate was at my school. Sort of. She was final year when I was first year. Vogue magazine came along one day and took pictures of the football team. Fun times!

I should have had my final* filling this morning, but my dentist cancelled on me, ill. This is the 2nd out of 3 appointments total where he’s done this, and the other one I fear he was drunk / hungover. I’m a bit wary of my dentist.

~~~

It has been a week of endings. I have FINALLY finished Phoenix Wright 2, hurrah! Edgeworth remains totty, Franziska remains irritating, a busty dead woman in a child’s clothes / body remains Quite Wrong. What next? Shall I attempt to catch up to p_dan_tic in Hotel Dusk? Or train my brain a bit? Or even let p_dan_tic have his console back? Decisions!

~~~

Also finished: Leaving Dirty Jersey by James Salant (thank you barrysarll ). A true account of descent into crystal meth addiction and the accompanying filthy lifestyle. I’m in 2 minds about this book. My thinking mind doesn’t find it desperately engaging, and a lot of the time I’ve been thinking ‘so what?’, but occasionally, as was the case this morning, I have managed to de-tune my brain to a Sunday-afternoon-way-home-from-Friday state of being, and all the crazy decisions suddenly make sense and are reasonable, and *I’m* losing track of time and what day it is and what’s real, so perhaps the book is doing exactly what it should do.

My major gripe would be a lack of description of what it actually feels like when doing meth. Everything else sounds so sordid, there has to be a payback. What is it? It only makes me more curious, which is Very Dangerous. Actually, there is a fabulous** description of an overdose, which had me thinking ‘oooh that sounds intriguing, must try it someday’ before catching the thought and slapping myself hard in the face.

I don’t think I should ever try crystal meth. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t. This book has not changed my mind. I (mentally) walk a dangerous tightrope of complete hedonist*** (More, more, more! Must try EVERYTHING! New experience? Yes! Please!) and extreme control freak**** which mostly keeps me in check. Well, there’s a whole range of checks and balances, but it mainly works. Perhaps I’ll not mess with it.

Next book on the list: Naked Lunch. I feel like tackling it again. Last time I tried I couldn’t really get into it properly. Time to give it another go…

~~~

Last night, return to the Book Club at the Albany. Pretty quiet numbers wise, but fun. Accidental drinking of too much wine***** and being seated at the front means I get to be martylog’s autocue. Try very hard not to sing along in a karaoke style. This is hard when a shewho is on stage and there is music. Sorry! Phil Jeays sensibly turns down my offer of repeat word carrying, and uses a music stand, boo. I like the Phil Jeays band, but I’m more’n happy just to see them live occasionally, rather than listen to stuff at home. I also like Tom Bell and his mate Ed’s (?) sketch. Jo Neary reads old diaries. Man, if only I could find my diary. I called it Christian. Guess why! I like Natalie Haynes. I like Dan Trap. I like Chris Neill. I like Robin Ince. WHY WON’T HE READ FROM THE CRAZY BEATLES LADY BOOK THE BIG TEASE? Ahem. Peter Buckley Hill weirds me out with bottom obsessing. I have forgotten to tell braisedbywolves why he scared me before. What else was there? I dunno. Wine. I had a lovely evening.

~~~

Oh, and I’ve got a daemon too. It would appear to be a mouse. A mouse!! I ask you. Anyway, under the cut you can click and see if you agree with the outcome or not. Change me into a ferret or a cockroach, who knows!










* For the moment
** ‘Fabulous’? Bad choice of word. Probably.
*** Thanks mum…
**** Thanks dad…
***** Yeah, yeah, I know. Had a duck egg on toast as emergency feel better breakfast. Found 1/3 a bottle of wine in my bag. Err, hurrah for screwtops?

Not the most auspicious start to the day, heading for drilling and filling at the dentists. Especially when your hygienist tells you they “can’t be bothered with today” then mopes about and spends some time talking to the dentist (who has to be yelled at to get downstairs) about being up all night in tears. CONCENTRATE ON MY MOUTH!

He asks if I want an injection or to try without. [AHEM. Always Say Yes To Free Drugs.*] Then manages to get half of it on my tongue.**

At least this time he wasn’t drunk!

Apart from that, all goes according to plan. 2 fillings, back next week for the final one. Staggered payment. I make him EARN his £240 if I’m honest; I’m a rubbish dental patient. For one so loud and gobby, I have a very small mouth, which can’t happily accommodate fingers, drills and suction at the same time. “Open wide!” he says, not realising I am. And my gag reflex is somewhat hyperactive with suction. Plus I keep forgetting to breathe. Good lord, how incompetent am I?!

***

Last night to Herman Dune (via rendezvous, breadzilla, cheese and pints at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese) at that bit of a student union where they have Collide-A-Scope. The one that isn’t David*** isn’t there, and they aren’t as magical as they were at ATP last year. I suppose ‘discovering’ an amazing band with the first act you venture out for helps with the magic. And general ATP goodness. (Oooh! ATP kids! Physical tickets arrived in the post this morning! I did a little “squee”!) Anyway, yes, the band. Clearly the David Herman Dune songs are the ones I like best anyway****, so plus points for ace set list. And choice of cover versions. But something is missing. Still very good indeed, but not amazing.

One thing I did discover last night is that I do have an actual bad back*****, causing me to have to sit down like an old woman 45minutes in. I think I might visit a chiropractor, anyone able to recommend one?

***

Herman Dune, however, paled into insignificance due to the glorious song that came onto my iPod whilst walking over Blackfriars Bridge. I could not keep the glee (nor the giggles) from my face, I think many commuters thought I was a)high or b)laughing at them. And more joy, as lanarak is not only aware of it, but appreciates its worth! FANTASTIC lyrics under the cut, see if you can guess who it is. Then I’ll tell you what it sounds like. Don’t cheat, there’s at least 2 of you that’ll probably either know or be able to guess easily…..

( Excerpt of lyrics below! )

Kudos and points to darkship for correctly identifying Meatloaf, from Bat III. In the Land of the Pigs (The Butcher is King). It is amazingly overblown, and somewhere between Gary le Strange and Iron Maiden. Excellent. In a highly dubious fashion.

***

I did a stupid meme this morning that said I was Ani di Franco. Which is silly really, I don’t think I’ve actually (knowingly) ever heard her work.













* Not a motto per se…..
** I still haven’t been able to get my stud back in! Stupid floppy mouth.
*** Ivor? Ivan? Brian? Percy? WHATEVS. [Andre. Yes.]
**** Good For No One is my favourite I think. That, or Baby Bigger.
***** Aside from my rotten shoulder girdle, which hasn't been right for years.