: 20 June 2004 :

this is for my homies

Another great weekend. Drinks Friday in a grimy dive – walls of homemade art and banks of TV fuzz – then beers from the offie and we went to watch Razorlight playing on the roof of a pub. Entertaining, and free, though they only did four songs which was a bit of a disappointment. Went to Hoxton Square after to drink the rest of the Red Stripes. At some point in the night I managed to get hold of a packet of thirty plastic pint glasses. I have no idea how they ended up in my bag.

My friend Leonie came to visit Saturday morning – took her to the Vivienne Westwood ex at the V n A. Lots of beautiful clothes and inspiredly weird tailoring. My desire for a t-shirt with two cocks-out cowboys on increases. And the one with the tits. I’ll have to go to Rellik (v cool shop out west London with lots of vintage Westwood/McLaren). Payday this Friday tempts me still.

After that we went to see The Black Rider at the Barbican. Music and lyrics by Tom Waits, and a book by William Burroughs. Should have been better than it was. Robert Wilson’s direction was pretty perverse – the whole play took fucking ages because each scene would be followed by an interlude while they changed from one elaborate set to another. I suppose that’s what you get when one person’s responsible for the direction, the set and the lighting design. Still glad I went, though.

We were supposed to go and see three shorts by Beckett after (because I don’t have band rehearsals this weekend I’ve been trying to fit in as much as possible) but Leonie wasn’t in the mood. Went back to my flat and drank. I managed to get through nearly half a bottle of sloe gin. Went out for dinner – the Afghan kitchen just up the road. Delicious. Communal seating, which was a little weird, as we were perched on the end of a large group’s table. Listened to them talking about the North and the South of England, resisting the temptation to wade in.

Le went home. I went to a party further up in Islington, taking the rest of the sloe gin with me. A girl I’d met a couple of weeks back, out drinking – friend of a friend – told me to come along. Not a bad party, though I barely knew anyone. Music wasn’t bad – someone had hooked his iPod up to the stereo. You know you’re in Islington when.

Left a while later – got a text about another party in Tottenham (the fun just never stops) – after having a decent chat with another bloke that didn’t know anyone there. I love that kind of brief encounter. Got off the bus in Tottenham about half two, tumbling in in time to get loaded on shrooms and have a few joints before falling asleep in front of some late night cable TV clip show. Slept in clothes. Hung around most of Sunday then came home, walking back in the pissing rain. Quiet evening in.

take stock

I love packed weekends like this. Help stave eternity off. Satisfy my perennial restlessness. Sometimes I feel like I have to keep moving. Sharklike.

fresh for 2004, suckers