Monday, January 31, 2005

The week (or two) that was.

I've just recovered from the shingles. Thanks to my friends, dvd's, my ipod, codiene and seedless green grapes. They all played thier small part in the rebuilding me. It's been a fortnight of reflection and the realisation that I don't want to get that sick again ever. So I've decided to put a few plans that have been incubating in my brain, into action.

First on the list was move to Brixton. Which I have. And you know what readers, it's very cool. I love the fact that I can buy all my veges, fruit, meat, tipples, and skunk all in the space of 5 metres. The Victoria Line is no doubt the quickest tube line in London, which makes going to work easier. The pubs are great, including my favourite The Whitehorse which is exactly 250 steps from my house. How good is that! The Ritzy cinema is a stones throw and 95% of all my mates live within walking distance. My new flatmates are easy going and not at all like the my nemesis ice queen harpy from hell from Finsbury Park that I had the misfortune of spending the last three months plotting to kill. Funnily enough on my last night in the north my flatmates had a really big fight. I resisted (just) from walking into the lounge and throwing them both steak knives and yelling "Go for the throat!" Ha ha ha. So glad to be out of there. On a side note, the very next day one of my new Brixton friends told me that Finsbury Park backwards spelt Krapy Rub Snif. Talk about hitting the nail on the head. Thanks Catherine, you're a gem.

The next step on the rebuilding of Reilly is watching my girlish figure. Which hasn't been that girlish of late. The mix of booze, bad food and no exercise from the minute I arrived in England isn't doing me any favours what so ever. So my diet is changing slowly and surely. I'm actually discovering fruit and veges is actually quite tasty, and healthy. Amazing eh? And here was me thinking that pork rinds, fatty meat, diet coke and cheese was the way forward. Mr.Atkin, thank god you are dead, you have a lot to answer for buddy. Balance is the key. I know this seems pretty simple to most folks out there, but I think missed the whole class on nutrition when I was 12. I think I was probably discovering the joys of cigarettes, glue and truancy at the time.

The final component is the dreaded "E" word. Exercise. The bane of anyones life. Especially mine. Being off your chops and having a sweaty boogie isn't exercise. Not eating for a day or two due to being off your chops isn't exercise either. Neither is walking to the shop to buy crisps. Or that 250 steps to the pub. Taking all this into account I took the plunge and joined a Gym. When I actually go, and don't have a heart attack with in five minutes I'll tell you how great it is. Fingers crossed.

All seems relatively simple eh? Well on paper anyway. Only time will tell.

Friday, January 21, 2005

The outside world.

I haven't been out for a while, due to be stricken down with the plague for the last week. However a week later, I'm starting to feel a little better. I've had little care packages from friends which always nice. Thanks Smackie and Kym (my evil twin). I had go out and find a Halifax bank and to deposit a wad of moolah for my new pad in Brixton. I decided to cheer myself up and go to The Virgin Megastore for one cd or dvd or book. I have a strange affliction for not being able to make my mind up given a lot of choices. I spent two and a half fucking hours in that damn shop. I listened to at least 40 cds and couldn't buy one! Top of the list were:- Television : Marquee Moon, Talking Heads : Fear of Music. And last but not least The Clash : London Calling 25th Anniversay Edition. Which in hindsight I should have just bought and got the hell out of there. I then moved onto the music dvds. Oh my god. Why did I even start to look at these. Lots of goodies here. Including 3 Johnny Thunders dvds, which I will research more. A great New Order Live dvd, a Blondie greatest hits, and a Ramones dvd that clocks in at a hefty 5 hours. Too many choices, so I passed them all up. I then decided to go downstairs. Bad move. I just turned around and got the hell out of dodge. I seriously cant wait until I get a debit card and I can just shop online. It pisses me off that I have such a hard time when I go out to huge places to buy anything. God you should see me go out shopping for clothes or shoes. I just give up. I went into the the same shop 4 days in a row and picked up the same pair of shoes everytime, before I bought them. Anyway back to my little adventure in the big city. I then walked up and down the same road 3 or four times looking at things to eat. I gave up and walked into Burger King twice, joined the queue twice and then walked out..... twice. I ended up finding a Pret and spent five minutes choosing a sandwich. I decided to head homeward. Good move considering my brain was beginning to ache, and the codiene was wearing off and the plague was starting to hurt. I went to Angel, (which I know the layout of, and feel a lot more at ease pottering around in) and to my surprise found a Halifax. I completed my banking mission, walked into HMV, bought a Richard Pryor DVD with only spending 20 minutes in the shop, which is record time for me. Being on a roll, I then decided to tackle Sainsburys. Usually this is a nightmare for me. I was pretty knackered by this stage and bought some good apple juice and grapes and just got out of there as quick as possible. I hopped on the bus and retreated back to the safety of my cave. Total misson time : Five hours. What the hell is wrong with me? I seriously think I have a mental disorder. Any clues? Anyone?

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Meet the Fockers.

I don't usually get sucked into the bullshit world of politics but I'm a little ticked off.

"Celebrating Freedom, Honoring Service," is the theme for old fucko's second inauguration tomorrow. It will heavily emphasize a nation at war, but festivities will rival those held during peacetime. Great Eh? Doesn't that make you feel good. Planned are nine official balls, a youth concert, a parade, a fireworks display and, of course, fucko's second swearing-in ceremony at noon on Jan. 20. The cost will be between $30 million and $40 million, an amount that does not include expenses for security. Does this figure piss anyone off?

Celebrating Freedom. Can America be any further away from the truth? For a nation (well half a nation) that is obsessed with itself like no other nation on the planet. They are addicted to presevering their own piggish way of life. (Well unless you are on welfare, not white or think outside the square.) They give up more of their freedom everyday under the guise of safety from those terrible terrorists who goal is to take the American way of life. Phuleeez. Give me a break. What you need to save a bit of face guys is these few little things. Number one on the list, and the main reason you are the target of horrible attacks like 9/11. is this. America, stop backing Israel, look at this map for a second. You can see that Israel is smack in the middle of the muslim world. And lets not forget that little hot property of Jersualem, especially The Dome of the Rock which has a lot of importance to the Islamic faith. God help us if that should fall into muslim hands, which Israel will never let happen. Get your ass out of Iraq, they don't want your version of Democracy. Stop sucking up to those Saudi's, and start to look at alternative energy sources. God know's you've shelved enough of them over the years. The most ironic observation I think is that America's saviour "Jesus" if real at all, is not exactly a white, blue eyed, sandy haired guy with a beard. More like an olive skinned, brown eyed, black haired guy with a beard. Kind of like the people in Iraq.

Honoring Service. If that means disobeying The United Nations, swapping guns for prisoners, building up nations to fight other nations, holding prisoners without trial, invading countries without cause, demolishing other countries to "protecting thier democatic freedom" against hostile invaders, commiting war crimes in Vietnam, Indochina, Korea, Angola, Central America, Afganistan and Iraq just to name a few. I feel terrible for the people who go to war, and for families that suffer loss, but sorry America, your leaders are warmongers out of control. And we can only look on everyday in horror and disbelief. How did it come to this?

And that's my 2 cents worth on the theme. Now the cost. Between 30-40 million dollars. Surely this money could be put to better use? I'm not going to into charity mode, and I'm not touching the issues of charity surrounding the Tsunami. It's horrible, and a tragedy, but a lot of the world lives in poverty everyday. Just look at Africa for instance. I'm just disgusted at the price tag for this fraudster's little party. Look here for "donors" for the big bash. Wonder what tax breaks or kickbacks those companies might be getting in the time to come. Infact I wonder if they are owned or have any connection to the "Natural Born Killers" above. Aren't donations, tax right offs?

Ill get off my soapbox now.

Poxometer: On a scale of 1-10, one being a breeze, and 10 being extreme pain like I have never experienced before in my life, I'm currently at 9.0. Make it go away please :(

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Bad England, daytime tv and the pox.

I wish I had cable tv. I've exhausted my stash of dvds. Dvds from Asia are always a bit of a gamble, but for $1 us a dvd, it's a gamble worth taking. Even, in my state of complete boredom, watched "Goodbye Lenin" in German. After a while, it didn't take long to get the plot, and I actually enjoyed the the film. So what if the plot is a figment of my warped imagination, it suited my needs. A more harder to follow is the french film "Taxi." Being an Asian copy, this little gem had subtitles. The only thing was the subtitles were from some Asian translation service, which I suspect was some dude who spent a year in the states, who is typing dialogue into Babelfish. This makes for very interesting reading. Quotes such as "The red buddhist motor oil, grand starts to frame" and "he becomes house to see friend woman nicely" I'll write down some other ones later today. It got me thinking of the clangers I saw in my travels through Asia. I had a hotel that had a "Perception" Desk. I had a dish called "fried meets with egg noddles and rich." And if I left all my dirty clothes in the basket, my "wishing" would be done.

Pox Update: I'm blistering, which is really sore. The codiene is working a treat, but the side effects is that I can't concentrate for very long. I'm getting bored out of my skull. Daytime T.V. seems the answer at the moment. It's a stupid programme where they pick letters and make words. This old biddy just tried to make the word "Haemorrhoids" and the dickhead presenter said I bet that has "piles" of letters in it. She couldn't spell it anyway. Retard. Wow, aren't my days exciting at the moment.

House Update: I'm happy to say, that I've found an amazing place in Brixton Hill. This has been my little ray of sunshine today. I move next week.

Put through babelfish from English to Chinese and back.

Smallpox renewal: I'm gets up the blister, is truly the ache. Codiene operates one kind to receive cordially, but the side effect is I can't centralism for extremely long-term. I'm obtains tastelessly in mine skull, I'm watched at that time outside daytime T.V.. It's stupid program they pick the letter and make the word the place. This only old biddy tries to make word "Haemorrhoids" And dickhead bestowing said I made a bet had "Piles" Letter in it. Her couldn't incantation it in any event. Decelerates. Ha, aren' t my day stimulated at that time.

Legislative body renewal: I'm happily said, that I've has discovered a surprising place in the Brixton hill. This is my small light today. Under I move a week.

Monday, January 17, 2005


It hurts so bad. Imagine having coldsores the size of your frigging hand. Imagine all the nerve pathways all damaged, causing deep muscle pain. Thank god for the super strength codiene, I'd be in a lot more pain, otherwise. Thank God for my collection of crap dvd's that I picked up in Vietnam, it kills the boredom. Thank god for my cool flatmate, who told me to help myself to her food. (I'm broke as well as sick. Why me?) My other flatmate, well I feel like rolling in her bed sheets, she is as cold as ice. Hopefully my new flat is going to work out all well, fingers crossed. I just have to meet a flatmate. How charming will I be, in my state, I'm not too sure, but I'll do my best. I really want this house. I have to move out of my house next week. Geez I don't want to be homeless. Any offers of food, money, or dvds will be greatly appreciated. Even old smackie, got a post out of my misfourtune. I'm sure the Germans have a word for that? Bah.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Just what I need.

I have come down with the shingles. If you don't know what shingles are, look here. It is fucking horrible. I feel like tearing off my skin with a cheese grater. And I feel really, really sick. It don't look as bad as you might think, but the pain that goes along with it, is INTENSE. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It's weird, I had been waking up with a really sore pain between my shoulder blades. I put this down to giving up smoking and generally detoxing. But on Friday the pain was so sore, I started feeling a bit run down and really tired. I called in sick. I got up and had a shower and noticed a small patch of redness on my chest. I dismissed it and ended up going back to bed, feeling really tired all of a sudden. I woke up at 6.30pm that night. Later on that night i felt an itch. I inspected it and.....fuck, I think I have the shingles. Please god, no, I don't need the frigging shingles. I took a hefty dose of codiene and went back to bed. Now today I woke up at 1.00pm and had a shower. Great, I have a band of blisters stretching from my chest, right round to the source of pain between my shoulder blades. Yay! Not. I rang the doctor. Answerphone. Great! Rang another after hours number. They said a doctor would call me. No one called. I'm quite stubborn when it comes to seeking medical help, so I started looking on the net to find out more about shingles. I came across this picture.This scared the shit out of me, so I rang the NHS hotline. A nurse called me back in 5 minutes. She said I better to the hospital in six hours. I hopped on the bus which immediatly got stuck in a traffic jam on Seven Sisters Road for the next 45 minutes. Why me? The bus somehow decided to stop at Holloway Road, which with my limited knowledge of London, may as well been Istanbul. I managed to get directions and found my way to the hospital. Next hurdle. A huge queue. As soon as I had told them my details, and mentioned that I might have shingles, the guy must have hit the panic button, because I was whisked away into isolation and seen to right away. Because of my pain in the back, they needed to take a ECG. Now this got a little weird. The receptors that they stick to you and attach little bulldog clips, wouldn't stick to me. This really irked the South American nurse, who was Tatu from Fantasy Island's twin sister, I kid you not. She kept asking me if I had oiled my body today? What? I have NEVER oiled my body in my whole life! My skin, by the way was dry, and not oily in the slightest. But as soon as one receptor was on, one was coming off. She then got out the sellotape and stated putting large strips of tape all over my chest. The receptors were finally holding. Now to do the ECG. The fucking machine wouldn't take a reading, and packed up on the spot. She went to get another machine, and I had to RIP OFF the sellotape of my chest. This took a good chunk of my chest hair with it. She came back, and we repeated the whole scenario again, with a new machine. Finally got a reading. My ticker was fine. Thank (insert various god here). She then took my blood pressure. Fine also. This whole process took 1 hour. Go the NHS! Then another person came to the next booth, also with suspected shingles. The nurses found this hilarious and started singing "Shingle Bells, Shingle Bells, Shingles all the way....." I didn't really find it so funny. Then they all fucked off. No one came for the next 45 minutes. Finally a doctor came, told the lady in the next booth she didn't have shingles, came into my booth and told me I did. He told me that, I just have to let it run it's course, gave me a big packet of heavy duty codiene and told me to take it easy for the next week, and to see my GP on Monday and get some steriod cream to relieve the itching. I left the hospital, got the bus, went home and took the codiene. I don't know if there is any point to this post, except, that nothing ever seems to be easy? I don't ever want to go to the hospital again, ever. Imagine if I was really sick? I'm sure I'd wind up more fucked coming out than going in. On that note, I'm going to go, that codiene is starting to kick in, and I really can't be bothered typing anymore.

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Everything is wrong with me.

Simple. This guys blog is the shit. Click here and vote for Jason Mulgrew.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

The big day out.

In Nuu Ziland, I used to go to the Big Day Out most years. Obviously this year, I'm not going to make it being half way round the big mudball. I had a good squizz at the acts playing this year. Lets go through the bands on offer this year.

Does anyone get this band? Anyone?
Scribe. I bet he's still flogging the same old rhymes. Prove me wrong.
Carl Cox. Zzzzzzzz. In the boilerroom, which sucks bigtime.
Regurgitator. These guys crack me up, I don't mind them.
The Hives. Yep, these guys get my foot tapping.
Deceptikonz. Good crew of boys. I'd watch them.
Dimmer. Shayne Carters Band. Cool. Big tick.
Shapeshifter. Drum and Bass? Too sweaty, and too distorted, and I cant keep up.
DJ Sirvere. Always has the good beats.
Beastie Boys. Guys, you took way too long between albums. Nuff said.
Chemical Brothers. Fuck off.
System of a Down. You guys are shit. Anyone tell you this lately?
The Streets. Does anyone know what the word Chav means in NZ?
Shihad. They changed their name back. Ha ha ha, what a joke.
The Donnas. I'd sleep with any of them.
The Music. I'd give these guys a listen to. For sure.
The D4. They cover New York Dolls, and love Dead Moon. They Rock.
Steriogram. Westies from Massey, and are making a go of it, and make dope videos.
The Bleeders. Have heard good things about these guys.
Powderfinger. Where is my gun, quickly.
Trinity Roots. Supposedly breaking up, so it would be nice to see them.
SJD. This guy pushs the envelope, which gets my ears pricked up.
Pitch Black. Like an old comfy pair of slippers, good stuff.
Frontline. Good NZ hip hop, worth a listen.
The Phoenix Foundation. I want to hear more of these guys.

I've probably missed a few out, but as you can tell, it's the same old line up, bar a a few new gems. When I first went to the Big Day Out, I always managed to blag my way into a corporate box. Which is real good fun. Booze is flowing and you don't have to be suspect with the old rolling skills, you have your own room! And you don't have to wade through piss to have a piss. Which is all good, considering how much beer you can seem to drink on a hot Auckland summers day. In the later years, however my situation changed a bit and the corporate boxes were not really on offer as much. Milling around with 45,000 chemically altered people, can be a bit of challenge. But this turns into a bit of a weird game if you decide to take some
high strength blotter acid. An eight hour weird game that believe me gets really, really, twisted. Trust me on this one. Even more funny when you share it with friends and they get lost, only to find them at the end of the night, more lost. Anyway The Big Day Out seemed to be the annual Big Day Out Of It. But I'm digressing, this post is all about the music, not my brain rotting youth. I'm much more mature now. Honest. So I'm gonna rattle off some of my best big day highlights.

Underworld. Simply amazing set. I'll never forget Karl Hyde's mad dancing and in the breakdown of Rez, he singing the chorus to The Rolling Stones: Can't alway get what you want. Joe Stummer and the Mescaleros. The first and only time I've seen, heard, and listened to Joe live. He had the same set time to the Chemical Botherers, and told the audience “Well you could be over there, in that big tent listening to that electronic music, well stick around and listen to some real music” Priceless. A kodak moment. Janes Addiction. At the end of their set they came on for an encore, and came right up the front of the stage and did an acoustic version of Jane Says. (I've got goosebumps, just thinking of this, it was that good.) I was right up the front and looking around to see everyone over 25 hugging each other singing thier hearts out along with Perry. I'll never forget that one. Marilyn Manson. (I don't really dig these guys music, but this little story is worth telling) I decided to get a beer and head up right to the top to get a breather. I think a little square of paper had something to do with it most probably. I made my way up to the top of the stand and by some twist of fate sat next to some guy who had come all the way from Hastings, and was of course Marilyn Manson's biggest fan. As usual I didn't know that M.M. was just about to start. He pulled out a carrot sized joint of Hawkes Bay's finest, and started to smoke it with gusto. Of course I had to join him. Talk about totalled. The first song he started to tear up pages of the bible from a mock pulpit. This got my attention. Marilyn started to transfix me some what. "You freak" I was thinking. I forgot about the freak next to me. He was jumping on his seat, skulling a 3L bladder of cheap wine and spraying it everywhere. He was pissing everyone off, except me, the wine spray was going over my head. He would tire himself out and sit down and toke some more weed and tell me that M.M. was a God and a Devil at the same time, so infact he was the true image of man. Right mate.......whatever, just pass me that joint, wacko. He did the wine spraying act a few more times, and managed to attract the attention of the cops. I had the joint in my hand. Oh fuck. I threw the joint over the back of the stand just as the cops came walking up to our row. They saw me do it. But the mental case next to me seemed to be presenting a a bigger problem than I. I stood up to let the cops go by me, and quickly scurried past them. Jesus, I was so stoned, to the point of needing to be sick. I nearly fell down the steps and stopped to look up at what was now playing. It was “I don't like the drugs (but the drugs like me).” At this point a huge sign swung down onto the stage with the word “DRUGS” spelt out with blinding strobe lights. The crowd went nuts. Crazy wineman had somehow slipped the cops and came hurtling past me, screaming “Fuck yooooou Pigs” quickly giving me a thumbs up, and diving into the crowd never to be seen again.

Well that's my Big Day Out memories. (from what I can remember).
Feel free to add yours in the comments box.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Weekend Nostalgia

Originally uploaded by LIFE OF REILLY.

I had a rather sedate weekend. It was actually quite nice to wake up on a Saturday, not feel shit on Sunday and super depressed on Monday. Even had a few results. I managed to find a person to move into my room. I feel sorry for him really, he has to deal with my cow of a housemate. Which incidentally now that I'm moving out, the gloves are well and truly off. Nothing like a good slagging match. Funniest thing is she takes the bait everytime, and don't realise it's all just a big game to me. Muhahahaha. Priceless. I watched the old clash film "Rude Boy" on Friday night. It's amazing. For me anyway. Might not mean much to Londoners, but when you hear names like Streatham Hill and Brixton being mentioned in the film, I'm like screaming internally."Fuck!!! I've been there!" Joe Strummer, you are sorely missed, my man. For me it's a big thrill to even walk down a street where some music have been inspired. Like Electric Avenue in Brixton. I'm like "That's not the Eddy Grant song? Is it? God it has to be!" I buzz off that kind of stuff. Needless to say, with all these musical references I'm looking to move to Brixton. I know I'm gonna love it there. All my friends live there. It's gonna be great! Also picked up a great album on the weekend. Gang of four: A brief history of the twentieth Century. Every song on this album is genius. I can't fault it. I cant wait to see them live at the end of the month. On a sad note, Phil Matthias, otherwise known as "Phil on the Hill" died this weekend. He did my first tattoo. I'll never forget that Saturday morning. I was watching a Danzig video at home and saw Glen parading around with kick ass tattoos on his biceps. Something clicked, and I walked out of my house in Jervois Rd in Herne Bay and walked along to College Hill and got my first tattoo inked by Phil. He deflowered so many of my friends, and started me off in my tattooed life. Cheers Phil.

P.S: One excuse to watch T.V. Bez on Celebrity Big Brother. My money is on you!

Thursday, January 06, 2005

Some new trousers to press.

When ever I curse myself for going so hard, I usually attempt to go on a detox for a bit. When this happens, my fixation for obscure music gets really intense, and I've just got to find some gems. I've just found something that is going take up most of my time. This website. Happy days, I'm going to be wading through this site for quite a while methinks.

P.S. I'm still trying to piece together the rest of my liver and brain destroying jaunt to Glesga.

Dark Satanic Scotland.

I had the best intentions going up to Glasgow, I really did. I was going to see my Granny, and do the rounds with my huge extended family. But the evil grip of Dark Satanic Scotland gripped its icy tentacles around me and took me on a 5 day bender instead. Bastard.

It all began with an innocent Xmas dinner, which turned into a rather debauched affair. As soon as the Uncles and Aunties left, the two young disciples of Dark Satanic Scotland got stuck into the real xmas pressies. Next thing you know it's 5am and decide it's a good idea to visit some other cousins in the freezing snow. More madness ensues and we are all having a very good time. Roll on 11am and we hit the pub. To my surprise it's packed. I forgot that it's Glasgow, and that everyone is drunk. Well I had to join them. How could I refuse?

Next stop it's another pub, and meeting some more disciples to watch Celtic play. The game took a back seat, for I was trying to keep my little head from slowly melting away into my pint. Oh dear. Back to another cousins house for another all night session. As soon as it was light (about 11am) with another few new keen disciples of Dark Satanic Scotland we headed back to the pub to attempt to straighten out (why do I think that more boozing is going to help me feel straighter?) I switch to drinking cider, which seemed to be leveling me out a bit, which is kind of cool (Warning: drinking cider for any extended time will have drastic effects at the other end. Thinking you are going to shit your pants everytime you laugh is a scary thought, and I think I might have said too much, but hey its, out now.... so to speak.)

At this stage I decided that some solid food was in order, and found that deep fried scotch pies soaked in vinegar and salt, are the most perfect food to eat in this condition. And believe you me, it is the perfect food. It's all I ate for the next 3 days.

Next stop: I didn't even go back to my cousins house and ended up staying with my new best mate for next few days. Greenie, you my man, are a legend. He coined the phrase Dark Satanic Scotland, and explained to me in great drunken detail what it entailed.

When we arrived at his flat, he showed my his view. A grey towerblock and a methadone clinic. Yay! It was getting dark at 4.00pm and junkies queued up daily for the daily dose of liquid handcuffs. Not to mention the giant crows that circled overhead and swooped down and plucked babies from prams. To top it off, the scene was completed with a gigantic grey blanket that seemed to cover the entire sky. Welcome to Dark Satanic Scotland. What more do you need to welcome you?

Music, of course. And who is the the man responsible for Dark Satanic Scotland? None other than Nick Cave. That man is Satan. In our warped minds, somehow Mr. Cave was the perfect representative for Dark Satanic Scotland at Xmas time. Infact, he is the real St. Nick. (Watch the video for Stagger Lee and you too will see what I mean.) Anyway this led to another all night musical binge with notable highlights (from what I can remember) was Gang of Four: To hell with poverty and The Fall: Theme from Sparta F.C. Infact, thats all I can remember, due to Greenie, constantly putting thes two songs on repeat. Not that i cared a jot. it rocked.

The sun peeked out at 9.00am and decided to fuck off half an hour later. Brilliant! St.Nick was still working that Dark Satanic Magic over bonny Scotland. We both had to do go into the town centre and do some domestic things. Oh what a chore. In the space of ten minutes, we were shaking, sweating and feeling really, really shit. Only one cure for this. The pub. After managing to to get the first couple of ciders down, by some miracle the shakes and sweats subsided. Funny that eh? Scary really, but hell at this stage there was no turning back. I had lost track of the days by this stage, and was reminded that Ms.Smacked Face and Ms.G were coming up on the train for Hogmanay, which apparently was tomorrow. Oh fuck. It's not even New Years eve yet, I am so not going to make it. Only thing was to pray to his Dark Satanic Majesty himself, the mighty Nick Cave, and hope to hell he'd see me through these hard times...........

To be continued.

Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Just to let you know...

I haven't fallen of the face of the earth. But I came close to it. All will be revealed once I get my arse in gear and cobble together my trainwreck of a life since Xmas day. It involves Satan, Nick Cave, illegal substances, cider, Glasgow, crazy relatives, pies and beautiful music.