12
September 05
[this week index]
Barny
experienced a life through a lens, or two days worth anyway, that of toby amies, master photographer and purveyor of fine anecdotes, inventive, easy-going, entertaining and ever so professional, as we tulips sweated it out in attire entirely inappropriate for the season, pouting and posing our way around old-town, small-town hastings, like a flemish delegation arriving unheralded on a parisian public balcony during the performance of a mystery. Whether or not the capturing of an image truly is soul-sapping, it certainly is a fine vehicle for towing forth otherwise well-concealed worries, paranoias and egotisms. And a great excuse for dressing up cool...
also enjoyed the maceration of muscles soaked in sunshine and saline but cursed the proliferation of pebbles
and found a fabulous new drummer who idolises jimmy chamberlain, which can only be a good thing
watching:
living in oblivion, the madness of movie-making
crash, human interaction so fraught that found myself pushing back away from the screen, feet on the chair in front, to the potential irritation of the non-existant row in front of me, tears rolled 3 times, though i might quibble with the music as it was slightly overblown in a magnolia type way, and the credits rolled to the accompaniment of the stereophonics
peep show, and relating to it a little too much
reading:
less than zero, bret easton ellis; people are afraid to merge
listening to:
the doors, soft parade, easily the silliest of theirs, yet somehow sublime
Heidi
Listening to:
DJ Scotch Egg - Scotch Chicken
Moving Units - Between Us and Them (EP)
Mother And The Addicts - Take The Lovers Home Tonight (LP)
Lydia Lunch - Mechanical Flattery
Elastica - Vaseline
Coachwhips - Peanut Butter and Jelly Live At The Ginger Minge (LP)
Reading:
Tragically I Was An Only Twin - Peter Cook
Rip It Up And Start Again - Simon Reynolds
Watching:
The Horrors, Greg and James' shambolic country-punk set, some dreadful acid jazz band and Selfish Cunt.
[n.b. Selfish Cunt: are bloody brilliant. Visceral velvets-esque noise fronted by the whirling dervish of feral grace that is Martin Tomlinson. Oft wrongly dismissed as a fashionista/comedy band, when in fact they are one of the most exciting live acts around at the moment. So yeah, go and see them or something.]
Spending:
Far too much money on Guinness and train tickets.
earlier posts
1 September 05 'Rhinoceros', Camber Sands, vain hope...
26 August 05
Valpolicella-quaffing
Satanic Barbie, scones...
22 August 05 Fine
lines, icy bruises, Chris Isaak, absence...
18 August 05 Bruises
of a sick canary hue. And Soft Cell...
14 August 05 Bile,
breakdancing, barely controlled rage...
6 August 05 Moss-moist
eyes, Roman Holiday and ringing...
27 July 05 Begging,
borrowing and stealing. And gowns...
22 July 05 Tris's
"You're Generally Indie" quiz result...
21 July 05 Test-Icicles,
overeducated rightwing baboon...
20 July 05 Buffalo
66, red shoes and a new frock...
12 July 05 Diversions,
hair conditioner, pots of tea and idiots...
1 July 05 Angela
Carter, exotic fruits and pink person-stripes...
29 June 05 Dresden
Dolls, Tori Amos, enticing flatmate...
28 June 05 Welly
welding, ghost trains, vaginas, bitching...
16 June 05 Posh
biscuits; the courting potential of the library...
15 June 05 Martin
Amis, chicklit and money problems...
8 June 05 Rabies
jabs and the History of Western Philosophy...