Xmas, gigs, sun, wankers & plots to kill

My week rather busy the last week, so I'll give you an update on what's been going on. Busy you think? I must of been out Xmas shopping, and speading peace and goodwill to all. I have been doing none of the above. I have infact, been going out to great bands, getting shitfaced, being cynical, vandalising, and generally gruff to people. To put it bluntly I hate Xmas. Well to be truth I hate this Xmas. Mainly because I'm away from the sun, sea and the sand, and my family, which I miss at Xmas time the most. Especially my little niece, who is 4. Anyway, I'm digressing.

Wednesday
I went to see Kasabian @ the Brixton Academy. I love Brixton by the way, and I'm planning to move there as soon as possible. Can't wait to move out of my flat. Ill get to that little thorn in my side in a bit. The Academy is a great venue, kind of reminds me of the Civic in Auckland. Well Kasabian rocked the party, and they sound a lot like early Primal Scream with a sprinkle of Black Rebel Motorcycle club on the top. Perhaps this is what the mighty Stone Roses could have sounded like if they were still functioning. Poured out of the Academy and downed a bit more booze, was offered skunk and crack by the friendly locals on the way to the pub. Because of this for some warped reason, I find these kind of actions ok, and it makes me feel safe. Here's a few points in case. A friend of a good friend got pulled of the back of a routemaster by four guys in Upper Street in Islington and got a broken cheekbone and 3 broken ribs and generally, a good kicking. Another friend of a friend got told by a freak on Calli Road in Kings Cross that if she didn't follow him, he was going to slit her throat. She managed to escape, thank god. I'd rather see 20 crack dealers, mental cases and alkies in my travels, than the lone super freak who decides because I live in North London, I'm easy pickings. (infact I'm dreading and at the same time secretly wanting that day to happen, the poor sod will get his beans. I've got at least 5 years of pent up fury (ex's, mates who have let me down, lots of bad luck, psycho-ex-mates that who are meth freaks in NZ, mates that have committed suicide, mates that have gone to jail) just waiting to be unleashed. The point I'm trying to say is that, because the the nutters are all on display, and generally the people in Brixton seem a bit more street wise, it makes me feel safer. Go figure.

Thursday Night
Went to Hoxton for a gig. Fuck Hoxton and Shoreditch. The only thing I like is all the cool sticker art that I see, and added to. But please, is this place supposed to be cool? First thing that pissed me off was seeing a young homeless guy, in tears on the street, shivering with a little sign saying he was hungry. Right next door was a restaurant packed to the gills with drones in business suits, looking well pissed/coked up not touching the mountains of food on the table. Grrrrr. I turned back and emptied my pockets and gave it to this poor kid on the street. I don't really care if he was scamming me. But he was crying, even if the money was for smack or booze or crack or some other method of blocking out his sorry circumstances, it didn't seem to matter to me. I just felt like helping someone less fortunate that me. (that's what xmas really means to me.) The next scene that confronted me was two well heeled oldish looking business women, off thier chops, having a scrap. Seriously. One of them was a dead ringer for Hyacinth Bucket, and the other, a skinnier version of Pat Evans from Eastenders. Pat knocked Hyacinth out. She fell and cracked her head on the pavement. I wished I had popcorn. Ahh. The Xmas spirit, don't ya love it? The bar I got dragged along to see was full of wankers that were either trying to be the Thrills or the Strokes. Phuleez. And most of the music was acoustic. Groan. And it was grade A navel gazing wailing self indulgent shit. I wanted to napalm the whole place. I mean what kind of troubles that these trustafarians have to sing about? They all look lovely, well dressed, got loads of coolish, supposedly trendsetting stupid looking clothes (guys:- suit jackets in my opinion look good. When you have a suit on. Maybe I'm just getting old) and seems, by the dosh I saw going over the bar that money wasn't really an object. They seemed all confident enough to be able to pull any lady they pleased, and judging by the doe-eyed, tarted up, bored looking waifs (that I could snap in two with my fingers) that were drifting around this seemed a sure bet. I mean what is thier biggest issue? Is daddy going to give me a car or a trip to Italy this Xmas? Doe's this shaggy haircut really make me look like the singer from The Strokes? My favourite quote of the night was myself saying too loud, at the entirely wrong moment "Jesus, this guy's butchering Coldplay, and how could anyone be more shit than coldplay" Needless to say, I left early. Next time you wanna go out evil twin, I'll show what a good time is, ok. And that guy? For real? C'mon evil twin, he can't be you're type? Really? I'm surprised. Very surprised.

Friday
Work Xmas party. Tried to get really drunk. I drunk myself sober. Food was lovely. Forced to spend social time with workmates, can be a little odd to be honest. Ended up going out afterwards and getting really spannered on the more alphabetical style as opposed to the booze. No more comment on this night, for fear of getting sacked. Go on I dare ya. Sack me.

Saturday
Spent the most of the day being quite restless, showing an odd german lady my room for rent. Rest of the day was spent sifting my thoughts and eating cabonara.

Sunday
Fucking sour mood. Must be the comedown from friday. No biggie, it's like I've never been here before. So I know how to deal with this. Keep busy. Which I did. I plotted to kill my flatmate all day long. Thats the reason I want to move out. She's a stuck up bitch with a silver spoon wedged in her mouth. Has no social skills, is patronising, extremely petty, hasn't really had a hard day in her life. Mummy and Daddy sub her rent, she gets little parcels sent to her, thinks she knows fucking everything about everything, has the best room in the house, always has a dour look on her face, complains that she only has a £100 quid to live on till pay day, but manages to be buying clothes, taking jaunts to Barcelona, getting her hair done, and have a full "private larder". Oh and to boot she's vain as fuck. No amount of makeup is going to disguise what a snob you are. When we are alone in the house, she doesn't even look at me when I try to make conversation, that or just blanks me. So rude. I can't stand it anymore. Heres the funny bit. When I told my other flatmate all this, she passed on the message to super-bitch. She had the audacity to say "it's not because of me is it?" Hey if you read this you little girl, I don't really care. If you want to have it out with me, bring it on bitch, I'll knock you for six.

NB: Readers, I'm actually one of the most nicest people you could meet. Honestly, just ask my friends. I don't have a harmful bone in my body, it's just this girl totally pushes all of my buttons, and this I find is the best way to vent my increasing rage.