Under Pressure.

I seem to remember Pippa shouting at me to write a new blog last nite. So now I am typing under pressure. There are problems with me writing a blog at the moment. One of those being a feeling of intimidation by James' blog (Post Gargle Blaster Events) being the best fucking blog in the world ever EVER!!! The second being that I always have things to write about, but alawys forget them coz of my bloody flaky brain pie syndrome. Never mind, I shall endeavor to write a new blog anyway. Look, I already am. This is going pretty well, I'd say.

So, on Wednesday, myself, Russ & Paul went to London to see Esbjorn Svensson Trio at the Barbican. Doing anything with Russ & Paul is fun, because at some point Russ will say or do something Paul doesn't like and they'll spend a while having little digs at each other, like some kind of niggling married couple. I laughed a lot on the coach up to London and I can't remember why, I think it started when Russ started taking photos.
Anyway, London, tube stations & trains, follow the line on the pavement to the Barbican centre. Which is HUGE! Finding the Hall was relativly easy, although being sure we were at the right door wasn't, but that paled in comparisson to finding a toilet. We finally worked out there was one up one floor, and one down one floor. We went for down. We hadn't realised tho', that going down one floor would involve going down about 12 flights of stairs! So once we'd got down there, worked out you couldn't open the toilet door and had to push a button, done that again, finally got into the toilets, had our respective pisses, washed our hands when we worked out that you had to turn on the taps with your foot which was not made especially clear, dried our hands on the remarkably un-futuristic hand towels (I was half expecting to have to headbutt the towel dispencer to make it work), we had to go back up about 12 flights of stairs to go to the main hall where no-one even bothered to check our ticket. We just strolled in and found our seats. Then left them again to buy small bottles of water for £1.50 each. Then went back for the gig.
Which was totally awesome!!! Seeing the Trio doing their thing was pretty amazing. My Personal highlights were "Definition Of A Dog" and the first encore when they played "Dolores In A Shoestore". Oh, and the bit where they went into a bit of a soundscape including one of those kids toys that makes whining noises when you turn it over being played thru some effects, along with bass effects and plucked piano strings. Hang on, that might have been part of "Definition Of A Dog". I can't exactly remember.
End, leave, food, more tube stations and trains, coach, sleep, home.
A very very good night.

Jesus, that took me over an hour to write. I keep getting distracted. This is probably why I forget what I'm gonna write about all the time. I need to start writing stuff down more. But then my room would probably turn into looking like Guy Pearce's room in Memento.

I woke up this morning with the first hangover I've had in weeks. It was a strange sort of reassuring feeling, like seeing an old friend who you've missed for a while. Last night was good. Drinks with people from work, and with Alice who's back for a week before she goes off to Morrocco. Lots of words spoken but none remembered. This was followed by followed by a small dose of drunk Guitar Hero, at which I seem to remember not doing so well coz I was a bit drunk and haven't been practising (tut tut) then onto Smash Disco, which I remember virtually nothing of except that I was enjoying Party Shank djing, Pippa told me to do another blog, and I danced on a table. Then got told off by security. I also remember talking to Chips which was cool coz I don't see Chips that often and it's always cool when I do. Can't remember a single word either of us said tho'. I think I told him to come to the pub on my birthday. I remember bumping into Hootie outside the Zodiac. I remember eating a kebab and watching The X-Files. I can't remember what happened in The X-Files. I'm now a little worried that I can hardly remember anything I said to anyone. Not worried that I said anything I shouldn't have, more "Uh-Oh, my memory is getting even worse."

Think I may drink booze again tonight.