Busy, busy.
On the one hand, I had a hell of a weekend. On the other, I'm knackered. I need to switch off for a while and recharge, but can't due to work getting in the way. Story of my life...
Thursday was a grave error of judgement on my part, consisting of every variety of bourbon under the sun, mixed with apple juice. Oh, the apple juice... Remind me not to go drinking with the EnemaSex boys without giving my liver a month's notice.
Friday was a highly disappointing gig by KMFDM. The disappointment was alleviated slightly by more apple juice/bourbon shenanigans.
Saturday Ghostsuit and I spent around twelve hours drinking in Edinburgh. There was no apple juice to be found. The capital is somewhat lacking in comparison to Glasgow's metropolitan ways. The Mission was as welcoming as ever, although I fear we upset the locals by dancing in a non-Edinburgh style to something as bizarrely nondescript as Rammstein.
Sunday I blagged a last-minute pass to T in the Park. Goldie Lookin' Chain were fabulous, in all senses of the word "We're like Blazin' Squad but worse... You knows it"... Pure class in day-glow shell suits. There's not many bands with the confidence to close their set on a festival's main stage with Your Mother's Got a Penis. Even less who can get twenty thousand or so punters singing along to it. I exhausted myself, anyway. highlights were the aforementioned GLC, DJ Yoda, Adam Freeland, Franz Ferdinand actually becoming rock stars (well done boys), Massive Attack, PJ Harvey and the Pixies.
Yesterday I did a day's work on autopilot, but today I was almost able to think clearly again.
Maybe tomorrow (I'll wanna settle do-o-own, until tomorrow, I'll just keep movin' on...)
On the one hand, I had a hell of a weekend. On the other, I'm knackered. I need to switch off for a while and recharge, but can't due to work getting in the way. Story of my life...
Thursday was a grave error of judgement on my part, consisting of every variety of bourbon under the sun, mixed with apple juice. Oh, the apple juice... Remind me not to go drinking with the EnemaSex boys without giving my liver a month's notice.
Friday was a highly disappointing gig by KMFDM. The disappointment was alleviated slightly by more apple juice/bourbon shenanigans.
Saturday Ghostsuit and I spent around twelve hours drinking in Edinburgh. There was no apple juice to be found. The capital is somewhat lacking in comparison to Glasgow's metropolitan ways. The Mission was as welcoming as ever, although I fear we upset the locals by dancing in a non-Edinburgh style to something as bizarrely nondescript as Rammstein.
Sunday I blagged a last-minute pass to T in the Park. Goldie Lookin' Chain were fabulous, in all senses of the word "We're like Blazin' Squad but worse... You knows it"... Pure class in day-glow shell suits. There's not many bands with the confidence to close their set on a festival's main stage with Your Mother's Got a Penis. Even less who can get twenty thousand or so punters singing along to it. I exhausted myself, anyway. highlights were the aforementioned GLC, DJ Yoda, Adam Freeland, Franz Ferdinand actually becoming rock stars (well done boys), Massive Attack, PJ Harvey and the Pixies.
Yesterday I did a day's work on autopilot, but today I was almost able to think clearly again.
Maybe tomorrow (I'll wanna settle do-o-own, until tomorrow, I'll just keep movin' on...)
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
haha.. GLC... Good lads, about time someone subtly took the piss out of the rampant chav/scrote culture which we're now famous for apparently!