Opeth

Toady's top-tip: Listen to Opeth and look at pictures of Uzbekistan.

Daisies of the Galaxy

Just as someone bursts your bubble

Fills you with dread

And kills your dream

There will always be someone there

To help rebuild it

And give you ice cream.

The Mantra Above The Spotless Meltmoon

This was a band that I saw last night at Soyo bar. Maybe it was just the raspberry martini going to my head but I really enjoyed this band. I had forgotten that it was possible to dance on a Monday night and I didn't just head-bob; I was dancing like a crazy twat.

The drummer was very understated and groovy. Not something you often see in a four-piece indie band. Actually it's unfair to use the term 'indie'. There was a certain moodiness there that was reminiscent of Tomassi-esque grindcore though it wasn't heavy enough to be so. Actually the souring vocals made it sound more like a Sinead O'Connor tribute being ambushed by a bus full of Mars Volta fans.

Penguin Cafe Orchestra

What is art?

This isn't an entirely random question, as I've just been watching this - http://iai.tv/

Something beautiful? Something extraordinary? Or is it just what happens when someone with a lot of ideas and (probably) too much time on their hands, decides to do something with one of those ideas?

Fatboy Slim, Moby and Radiohead

Oh well.

Moldy Peaches

Wednesday 21/09/11

09.40am - Went into jobcentre for interview. Woman commented that I had been signed on a while. I said yes indeed. She asked me about community project X. I told her a long endless story of picking litter in church yards and cleaning toilets until she gave in and enrolled my details with a catering course. I feel this was a moderate success.

11.30am - Read about conscientious objectors on wiki. A bad move? I suppose I see my move out of teaching and into cookery as a little bit like being a tiny conscientious objector taking a big lunge for freedom. There's only so much a little worker ant can do in a colony of army ants that have been fed too many e numbers.

17.11pm - Time for executive decision: belly dancing or dinner party?

Festivals (In General) and Jimmy Reed

A while back when I was a little bit younger I told someone about something amazing. I wasn't claiming by the way that this thing was actually amazing, just that it felt amazing to me so the amazingness was real in~as~much~as it left a lingering impression on me, even if no one else present particularly cared or even noticed. The person to whom I was speaking looked at me and said, "When you get older that feeling will lessen," as if I was a crazy person inflicted with some kind of brain disease that produces disproportionately excitable reactions to mundane stimuli. I admit that I do on occasion do just that, but.............. you've got to get excited over something even if it's just once a day about toast, and jam.

I don't want to ever get to a point in my life where I can't get excited about stuff. It's amazing how quickly the monumental becomes run of the mill though. (See, as long as I can get excited about how things cease to be exciting I'll be alright). I suppose I should be upset by it, but it just merely proves that despite mankind's overriding fear of the unknown which seems to dominate every single decision that we make in our waking lives from what brand of margarine to buy to what shall we do with our lives and who should we spend it with, we still get used to the idea of new stuff abnormally quickly to the point where it becomes disposable and replaceable almost immediately. Is this normal? Are we normal?

Real excitement -- as in the real juicy lemon in life's pancake -- doesn't come from exciting things at all. It comes from odd coincidences, surprise meetings and clashing cardigans (if you're a girl that is, if you're a boy you'll have to think of some macho equivalent for clashing cardigans). Why when we make new friends do we refrain from contacting them after 10pm for fear of 'disturbing' them? You don't have to be on 24hour call to be a good friend to someone, but if someone close calls at midnight needing reassurance that their life isn't meaningless and you get out of bed and look for the kettle, that's probably the best neighbourhood watch scheme going, and it's the real thing; it's the lemon and sugar in your dry lifeless pancake. So next time you're watching the news and you get the fear about gangs and pillagers, try tapping on your neighbour's window and asking for some sugar. I'm sure he'll happily give you some, and he might even smile at you too. Goodnight.