jabba the slut

it’s funny because he deserves it.
i have pretended to be important recently by making subfolders in thunderbird. i can’t believe i admitted that. but its out there now.
i was pleasantly interrupted from mixing thom the astronomers record this afternoon when my brother’s new album landed on the doormat. i am naturally consumed with jealousy, both of songwriting talent and of the right to record it this time round, but fortunately the record seems good enough that the predominant emotion is pleasure. i guess i just like songs about bathrooms. of course, since i didn’t mix it, all my lo-fi, punkrock, fuckyouisthefirsttakenotgoodenough attitude seems to have melted and i want to rush to the studio and scream at someone to turn this keyboard down and for gods sake take the low end off that bass, but no. there seems to be some steel-drum sounds on it. and it’s got “life model no.1″ on it, as well as seemingly endless songs that have seeped into my consciousness at various gigs over the past few months. i love listening to a song i think i don’t know, to discover that it’s a new version of something i really like.
you know it’s time for a change when…
you realise it is TV turn-off week and you have already watched “most naseauting celebrity holiday homes”. the only thing more repugnant than watching tommy lee (talentless lunk who boned pamela anderson. not an actor, as far as i know. may have got his name wrong) rubbing himself against the wall of his ‘big bird room’ were the pundits falling over themselves to tell me how repugnant they found all this decadence which they make their living from punditting.
you make up the word punditting without explanation
the sentence “i should give up too. my lungs hurt in the mornings” is addressed to you
your bed collapses daily
your complaints expand exponentially despite yourself. enough!
having never defined the purpose of this site, i almost feel that writing in it as a simple diary is somehow lessening it. but i shall shrug this off as snobbery, and muse on my recent weekend.
they may be cheese-eating surrender-monkeys, but it turns out they have some other things going for them too. in fact, apart from paying 20 euros for two bracelets which will serve only to remind me of the ability of opportunism to override human feeling, we had not a bad experience. fine cheese, wine and music seemed to approach from all directions in abundant quantities. when this was occuring in fine weather, beautiful surroundings and pleasant company i needed nothing else. the whole thing was an 18th birthday present for lucy and she was pleased, so i was pleased. i am a simple creature.
the latin quarter was pretty much the business. bars overflowing onto winding cobbled streets, strange music and sweet smoke wafting from high windows and hookahs, tall beers and sweet jus de raisins, it was enough to make me wish i could continue a single sentence all evening. if you ever go to paris, go to le piano vache, for all your alluring barfly needs.
other things i liked:
political grafitti in tourist-trap toilets - “fuck le CPE”
grafitti by tiling! - as if space invaders landed in 1858
my favourite french singer, the best installations i have ever seen, and motorcycle karaoke under one roof
tintin - l’objectif lune on dvd for 10 euros
crêpes crêpes crêpes
market at la bastille, for far more than i could eat
thanks paris, i’ll be back. photos to come
would lightning look good from the sacre-cour?
only if i don’t get hit. oh for a camera. friday was the first day i have ever wished for reigime change. it’s amazing how bin laden is always talking loudly whenever there’s something more important to think about.
which dark lord of italy could the bbc be referring to here? the man who lost his grip on the italian senate by two seats, despite a gargantuan assualt by his two media empires, or Bernardo Provenzano, the Sicilian mafia ‘Boss of Bosses’ who was arrested on the same day after 42 years? Am i the only one whom coincidences like this smack in the face and inspire pasta boycotts?

The view from atop this towering pinnacle of wit takes my breath away. some people say scrabble is a boring game. they clearly haven’t played it with my girlfriend, which is perplexing as the offer is always there
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i had four missed calls from my brother. he was lost in bethnal green, looking for little things. with the help of imogens map, which she sadly left behind in the pub, we all got there, for what i hope was most of their set. they impressed me so much i don’t even remember if they were wearing animal masks. henry has got some good singers behind him, and a bassist that looks just like him. im glad i did their website.
running out the door with the sound of 15 year olds practising at being interpol not far behind us, my brother says “you are coming to see little wings, tomorrow, aren’t you?” i was caught offguard, with all these little bands coming at me so fast, and naturally responded in the affirmative. so as soon as we woke duncan up to prevent him rolling in catpuke, it was into anthony for a road-trip to brighton via 100-acre woods. duncan totally kicked me at pooh-sticks, but he had his comeuppance when he dropped jons phone in the river. it’s very rude of him. poor jon has just hitch-hiked to morroco with only two nubile young girls for company. what a home-coming that will be.
the point of this post was to note the awesomeness of both little wings and viking moses, each of whom assisted the other in delicate-to-clattering melodic songcraft-to-near-evangelical-ranting, untill the power was cut. beer, it seemed, was pouring through the ceiling, onto the stage. the electricity was pulled, but not the show - i fetched some fella with an acoustic guitar and he gave it to kyle. i felt strangely responseful for the subdued ending, not that it was a bad thing. we did miss the drummer tho, not just for his skillful tubthumping, but also for giving the appearance of having walked straight out a computer-science lab. i don’t even know if such a place exists, but his cropped hair and blue shirt would have fitted right in. i didn’t get the chance to meet him, but mr moses was lovely and sold me a little wings album. i haven’t got my head round it yet, been conducting the M23 like a madman in rapture and Beethoven’s 6th, and in a cleaning frenzy (which was the only thing i could do to avoid work) got stuck in to the Nutcracker suite and am still enjoying it.
viking moses and little things play kilburn luminaire on sunday. it is so cheap i will probably cross the street to avoid you if you don’t go. just kidding, but seriously. some perspective is required. look at the man. his eyes do that when he is RELAXED. on stage he is indescribable.