I'm sitting in the house...

and it has just hit me that indietracks was bloody ages ago.

We've never seen a keener window cleaner

Roy's Keen is officially Morrissey's best song.

my review of a review

this one

What a cunt. Since when did the guitarist wear spectacles?

I've discovered Flickr, so I'll be boring everyone to tears with tons of photos from now on.

I'll start with today (Sunday).

Em and I went into Central London, which we don't do often enough. You move all the way to the city from wherever in sticksville it is that you come from and then spend all of your time in your 'home postcode'.

We hopped on the bus and not far along the route we spotted this:

I guess you can break an arm in Martial Arts class, and then pop upstairs to have it fixed by the mis-spelled doctors.

On the way home I drank this:

And while uploading the photos I remembered how impressed I was to discover that Islington's youths were attempting to clean up their neighbourhood.

And as per usual, I'll be updating the muxtape - here with the 'highlights' of the weeks pick of the pops.

bloody work.

As per every other blog going, I'm going to do a post about my 'work situation'. It's pissing me off, to put it bluntly.

But what pisses me off more is that when I begin the hunt for more gainful employment every post that appeals requires 'education to degree standard'. Now, I made it to university, but did not finish. Is this 'education to degree standard'? I'm inclined to think not, leaving me in a position where I opt not to apply for said posts.

Maybe I'm being foolish and overly down on myself, but I always reckon that my application would find its way into the bin very, very quickly. Although I may have the skills, motivation etc. that the potential employers are requesting I don't tick all the boxes.

Reader poll: to apply, or not to apply - to any of them.

round 2

I've had enough of the previous mix now. So here's the new one.

There's a few in here that I think will make me turn the headphones down and make sure no-one hears what I'm listening to. I'll not say which ones, you decide.

It's great having a fixed list of songs for the journey to and from work, you start associating songs with certain points on the journey although this could turn out to be a bad thing if your favourite song is forever linked to "Chicken Spot" on Holloway Road in your mind.

Exciting Relaunch!!!

well, it has been some time since I last posted on here. I was reminded of my blog by two things:

1) I saw this: the girlfriend's mixtape
2) I came up with a new plan for using my iPod.

The plan ran thus:

To stop completely filling the iPod with guff and restrict myself to short playlists, which I would then listen to, in order, in full.

A bit like we used to with tapes, then.

I'll be listening to the same playlist for about a week and hopefully I'll get some new favourite songs to bang on about. Each week I'll be uploading the list here: my mixtape.

Only snag is that my short playlist is 90mins, and this muxtape thing only allows 12 songs, so you're getting the highlights and nothing more.

So, for now that's me.

Somebody put something in my drink.

Or at least that's what I reckon after last night's journey home.

Before that, the rest of the evening:

After a long day in the house (mostly spent in bed, sick with booze) and a visit to the Old Blue Last, Stuart arrived and the four of us headed off to the lovely Spiral Scratch Disco. This was not meant to be. There were police all over Muswell Hill which led to a lack of buses. So off we headed the long way round via Krap Yrubsnif to take the tube into town.

Ten hours later, without our free CD(due to not being the first 50 club-goers), we were there having a whale of a time. This is when my drink was tampered with.

I discovered this during the journey home, first when Stuart pointed out what appeared to be Hulk Hogan, in a skirt, pushing a shopping trolley containing a large electric fan on a stand. I then turned my head to the left, only to see Bananaman waiting for a bus. Waiting for a fucking bus while Camden Market burns to the ground. Some superhero.

Went to the new Rough Trade East today. It's not all that. But I did get "Love, Peace & Poetry: African Psychedelic Music" whch will make a nice companion to the Japanese comp of the same name. Go buy 'em - well worth 13 sovs.

The Visitors

No, not the Abba LP, you wallies. My brother came to visit, arriving by train yesterday from The Frozen North.

In celebration we rather foolishly stayed up till the next day boozing, which meant that we wasted half of today nursing hangovers. Six poached eggs later we made it onto a 43 bus heading off for the Tate Modern. I hoped that I'd be able to come back with tales of pensioners and small children trapped in 'Shibboleth' - alas, no. After this jolly jaunt we walked all the way to bloody Centrepoint due to a lack of transport options and waited approximately 3 weeks for a 134.

The Tate got the old cogs whirring and I had a good laugh with liitle brother thinking up installations we would present to the public. Top prize to him for 'Eppilept' - an ordinary gallery, until the lights go out, random strobes begin along with a pulsing sound and jets of cold water aimed at the viewer.

At this point you may or may not be wondering "why the plural in the title?" - since you're not, I'll tell you anyway. Stuart Indietracks is popping round this weekend, so that makes two. Full house eh?

yes.

This is it, I've done it. Not quite two feet first, but a toe in the water. I've never really had a proper blog before but much like smoking at school, everyone else is doing it.



We'll have to wait and see how long this whole thing lasts as I don't do a lot with my days and would hate to bore everyone with heaps of crap. Maybe I'll turn into another one of those people clogging up 'the web' with links to 'funny' clips. Then again, maybe not. Maybe I'll vent my bad sixth form literature. Then again, maybe not.



So there we have it, my mission statement. ahem.



for now.