Christ's Pieces

Word then.
So on the way to London, I got in an argument with an old lady on the train, because I put my suitcase in front of the seat next to me. The train had hardly anybody on it and she could have sat on the other table, which had one person sat at it with no (cumbersome) luggage.
Old people are worse than young people sometimes for being argumentative aggro twats. The same situation applies that you can't say anything to them (heaven forfend you open your god-damned mouth in fear that they might have a consumption fit and die... well, I mean, that was what I was hoping would happen).
She sat down and I think she just wanted to complain, tutted "Oh my, the world certainly has changed" whilst looking right at me, hunched over reading the paper and minding my fucking own..

Yes. Of course the world has fucking changed you atavistic shrivelled old cunt. That's what it DOES. Should be grateful, don't know they're born, hanging's too good etc.
The punchline was that she thought I should have offered her the seat. The seat was empty, so I can only assume she meant my seat. Why? On a half-empty train?
People confuse the fuck out of me sometimes.

I voyaged to secondlayer to spend the voucher bestowed upon my by the awesomeness of romijijijijijijijijijniewifelovething and stocked up on some riotous wild music (skeleton skull blogspot will start when I get back, reviews ETC) then went to Camden and was confused so I bought a cd by PRE and a cd by The Hickey Underground who I know nothing about apart from they know a good riff or two.

Went to Oto to see Audrey Chen, an improv Cellist with a Laptop duder, a percussionist and a guitarist.
It was kinda cool, though it all seemed like they weren't playing TOGETHER, just all at the same time.
Audrey scraped and twanged her cello and gurgled and burped and howled and wailed, I think it would have been better if it was just her on her own.
The percussionist was amazing scattershot ping ding blam kinda smaksmak drums, had crotales all oer his drums, just a floor tom and a snare. The only problem was he very very very rarely let up, and kind covered the whole show with his mark, again, would be nice to see him on his own.
The laptop guy seemed to be feeding the whole live thing through some processing, and then playing it back at almost inaudible volumes thru an amp, and the guitarist just kind of.... fizzed... quietly in the corner.

Now I am staying at the mighty Horatio Pollard's place, sleeping next to a mixing desk. There was only one other place I did that, and that was uncomfortable. I am on a sofa. This is of particular interest, because it isn't. There.

Tomorrow I am totally all up ons with two museum trips, which is ace 'cause it means I get to be frugal, and as beak are playing rough trade on Wednesday, I thought I'd better save my czash for then...

My back hurts from leaning over and lugging stuff. It's late and I've been awake too long, which means I'm going to go to fucking sleep. NOW. Well. Soon. INTERESTING!

When I get back home I shall impliment a vague routine and some ch-ch-ch-changes in the hope of some freshness of mind and not going fucking insane this winter.
Keepbusyordie, y'know?