BNP baaaaad

Another musical posting, I'm afraid. But I'll try and pepper the music stuff with pithy and astute social commentary.
no not really.

went to an open mic folk night on Wednesday. It was in a lovely pub in Angel in the upstairs room, which could possible have been the loveliest room I've ever been in. It's big, with a high ceiling and windows across one wall, just a shade shorter than the height of the room. Over both fire places hang large mirrors speckled with just the perfect amount of black age spots. The walls are painted a classic light green and an ornate chandelier hangs directly in the middle of the room. Throw in a few people with morning suits and it could have been taken from any of the many movie versions of Pride and Prejudice. Outside, in the dwindling light, a tree covered in white blossoms was perfectly framed in the window. But winning by a landslide, was the ladies bathroom. Looking like it got hit with an art deco stick, it had gorgeous mirrors and elegant chairs --I could have moved in (rivaled only by the bathroom in the basement of The Church on Queen St. -I love that space too).
The music was good too. there was some banjoing (I forgot how much I liked the banjo -one thing I miss being over is alt countryish music), but it was mostly Irish and Welsh folk songs. (The best was Mary Hampton, who doesn't seem to have a website, but does kind of a funky folk fusion)
On saturday I went to this
Belle and Sebastian were headlining, and I stood in Trafalger Square for about four hours because I wasn't sure exactly when they were going to come on. It was a cool event. Lots of 'fuck the BNP' stuff. (the BNP are a scary racist party that actually have a few seats. And as there is an election on the 4th, all the 'fuck the BNP' rhetoric is timely). Anyway, by the time Belle and Sebastian came on I was really cold and getting a sunburn (yes, it's true. cold and sunburnt in the same afternoon -bloody country). I was hungry and my pint of cider had worn off ages ago. So yes, I was in a bit of stroppy mood, but suddenly the sun broke through the clouds and sparkled off the water spraying out of the fountain in the middle of the square and they played Boy with the Arab Strap as a finale and I was watching Belle and Sebastian for free in the middle of london and we were all fucking racism. the world was good again. Babyshambles played as well, without Pete Doherty 'cause he got arrested again.
And speakers kept saying stuff like, we all know why Pete's not here, but he'll be at the next one, like he was a political prisoner and not a junkie. Which is a nice sentiment i guess, 'cause at some point you have to think that he just needs some help and not more jail time.
Then I went to a party in Brick Lane. It was in this amazing loft conversion with a roof terrace. And the roof terrace had a perfect view of the City, Girken and all. But still, as far as city skylines go, I think Toronto's may be better (shhhh)

today, John and I bought a soccer ball and kicked it around in Regent's Park. I should really go there more. It's only about five minutes away from our apartment.
Actually as it turns out, it wasn't much of a musical posting after all.
sorry.

xxxx

london vs toronto in musical terms

About Living in London:
If I have to be really honest with myself, then I have to break my feelings down into two distinct parts.
First part: London as exciting, beautiful, historically, cobbled streets, famous people. Notice
the music of london is raw, damaged, ravaged, heavily weighted under the dead notes of musicians past. It is fantastic, it is heavy, it is a big deal and it rocks.

2ndpart: home. north america. as fresh, naive, wise. wide open. when I listen to music from there, from the states, from Canada. it makes me cry. it makes me remember and it makes me hopeful. even if I've never heard it before. European music never makes me cry even if it's beautiful and poetic and sad because it's jaded and it's seen it all. And I haven't seen it all.
who wants to see it all.

should drunken posting be banned? discuss

Work yielded some particularly delicious email today.

After emailing a gentleman from mainland Europe today about his troublesome festival entry, I got this reply.

"...Don't do anything foolish now and wait for my response. Soon, my darling, soon."

If I'd had known this morning I was to be caught up in the pages of a Harlequin romance, I would have worn something more flowing to work. As it stands the email is now captured in hard copy and taped to the wall beside my computer.

Btw some momentous and important things are happening in canada in the next few weeks. Things I really should be part of.

Rose and Adam's wedding: don't think I'm not gutted. Rose was my roommate in university and I think by default university roommates are supposed to be a weddings (although given all the things that happened in uni, maybe she's pleased I won't be there to share).

My parents are moving to barrie. I suppose I should be helping, but I can't really say I'm gutted about not being there to help out.

Holly being in Toronto. It's not fair. If you guys have brunch and caesars and a bitchy gossip session I'll be totally pissed off. (though I'd be pissed off if you didn't).

My Life

It has been some time since my last post and much has happened. Rather than write a detailed account of what I've been up to, I've decided to break down my week into various categories, in the hope that a subtle and nuanced picture of my life will begin to emerge. (Remember, white space holds meaning too)

So let me begin with a little found poetry (our favourite kind).

Found written in black ink on a paper bag used to wrap a 1 pound mug from the pound store down the street
April 15, 2006


NOTICE

FROM TODAY WE DIDN'T GIVE FOOD TO MOMAN ANY MORE FROM POUND PLUS UNION.

Interesting things I have learned in the last week*

Australia is the only place in the world where camels roam free. Yes, wild camels. packs of them. A non-native species, unfortunately, but less invasive than the rabbits and feral cats.

The first world war may not have started with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand like we were all taught. In fact, it looks like it may have had something to do with oil... and Iraq. If Robert Newman ever swings through Toronto, check out his show. It's funny, stylish and political. Why can't everything be like this.

* may or may not be true. we don't fact-check over here and it doesn't seem to matter

Interesting things I have seen in the last week.

David Miller is in Vanity Fair. Apparently Toronto rules in climate change terms. But more importantly, David Miller's in Vanity Fair.

Nick Hornby in Camden. Dirty bar in Camden with sticky floors, a band who did a cover of a Modest Mouse song and essays on music written by a very funny man using delicious metaphors without a hint of wankyness. Why can't everything be like this.

The sunrise. Twice in one weekend. Man, these brits can party.

Favourite quotes of the week.
Sudoku is the scourge of the modern age. It's killed off the crossword.
(from this great movie review show on TV)

Twists and donut holes are cool like Vince Vaughn.
(a radio ad I had to edit --funny, it seemed to rhyme the first time I heard it)

Bad sounds I heard.
I was awoken this morning by the sound of a crash and then what sounded, to my sleepy brain, like a truck full of pencils pouring out onto the road. Then lots of swearing.
Thinking someone had hit a truck full of pencils that had then poured out on the road (which would definitely illicit a great deal of swearing given that picking up all those pencils would be a bitch), I looked out the window.
No pencils, just a guy lying on the sidewalk in a pool of blood. His motorbike was hit by a car and it seemed to take ages for the ambulance to show up. I don't think he's dead, because the paramedics looked like they were talking to him. Three hours later, after the police spent ages taking pictures and the street cleaning truck washed away all the blood, Woolworths opened for business. Much to the relief of those waiting behind the police tape to get at all the bargains. All a bit too much excitement for a saturday morning pre-coffee, if you ask me.

It just seemed wrong to make tea and generally get on with things when some guy could be dead outside our apartment. In any case, we decided not to do anything, just sit there, until the guy was taken away by the ambulance. I think I understand why people slow down at accident scenes. not to be gruesome, but just as a way to show some respect to someone you've never met but is suddenly so publicly exposed.

Lighter fare: I know all you ladies out there want to know how to be irresistable to guys. So check out this little gem.
sneak pick:

6. "Get a cute wardrobe- Shop where you like to shop, but don't always be a fashionista. You want people to look up to your fashion sense. Pick a fashion idol like Jessica Simpson. Notice what she wears at the Grammys, or pictures you see of her in magazines, and slowly inject bits of her signiture (sic) fashion into your daily style (i.e. maybe trade up your keds for some cute cowboy boots."

"The best flirting tip, is smile, play with your hair, laugh at his jokes( even if they're not funny)."

If only this existed back when I was in highschool *sigh*

A weekend of firsts

First First:
Friday morning was hot in that hazy, smoggy summer way. I was walking to work (something I do since I discovered it takes me exactly 40 minutes regardless of whether or not I'm walking or jammed on the bus). There was a girl in front of me and in front of her was a guy wearing a black jumper, white shirt and dark pants. He was acting a bit strange, sort of lurching around and once the girl in front of me walked by him, I saw why. There in plain view, framed by his dark pants, was his jimmy jump-up* and he was sort of waving it around. I crossed the road.
The troubling part (yes, more troubling than the penis bit) was that he was in his early twenties and looked quite respectable (apart from the...well, penis) and I prefer my flashers lurking and trench-coated.

* John's contribution and yes, there was a debate as to whether or not jump-up requires a hyphen

Second First:
My first drink over lunch, fully sanctioned by my manager. I spent the next four hours trying not to fall asleep on my keyboard.

Third First:

After work I met John and some friends at a pub in Camden. It was one of those nights when every pub you go to is closing in 20 minutes. This went on until about 12 when John remembered the unopened bottle of vodka at home. This set off a thrilling series of events that culminated in 11 people somehow fitting in our 'apartment'. And as per usual, the most happening place was the kitchen.

Fourth First:

We bought an oven. The oven is a huge big deal as for the last 5 months John has been restricted to cooking only what can be fried, boiled, poached or not cooked at all. To celebrate a new era of unrivaled gastronomic delight we bought and heated up a frozen pizza.

That's it for the firsts. Sorry. however, we did go visit Patricia and Wayne in Salisbury. For anyone making it over for the wedding, be forewarned. Salisbury is ridiculously, sickeningly charming. Exactly the way one would imagine a town in England.
Historic cathedral dominating the landscape: check
Lovely river meandering through town: check
Cobbled streets: check
Swans and ducklings: check (seriously)
Their house is also equally as charming. Crooked walls, a door knocker, wooden beams. Whatever. I'll take a cramped apartment with a fine view of Woolworths over charming any day.