Tuesday, June 27
It was Gavin and Janie's wedding last weekend and Rory came over on Wednesday evening in preparation. We spent Thursday afternoon trailing around Leeds trying to buy trousers because he claimed his current ones were too shiny for Best Man purposes. £70 later and he forgot to wear them on the day.
I also had purposes in Leeds as I had agreed to speak to a woman from Radio 4 about my experiences with depression. We got in touch with each other through a poster in SHIP asking for people willing to talk about themselves and their problems. The lady was sensible, sympathetic, informed and, most importantly, Taking A Sensible Approach. It was a far better experience than my time talking to Kerrang! Radio. Anyway, my contribution will be part of a show about depression called Is It Normal?, one of a series of four half hour shows to be aired around August looking at a variety of health issues and the normalcy or lack-thereof of each of them.
The evening's journey to Southport was described as turgid. The cumulative train journey time was two and half hours, but there was a half hour break in Manchester where we raided Sainsburys for biscuits as well. There was a reasonable amount of wildlife to be seen from the windows - I spotted two foxes, three rabbits and incalculable numbers of horses, cows and sheep. We didn't get to our hotel until after 10pm, by which time we were too tired to care about the shabbiness of our surroundings. The bathroom had mould, there was sheets not a duvet (and a woollen blanket, which, of course, I'm allergic to), one thin pillow each, dirty windows and the hotel bar closed at 11pm. I drowned my sorrows in bourbon. The biscuits that is, not the drink.
Friday started grey and windy but by lunchtime the weather had cleared up and it was a beautiful, sunny day. The trip to the golf course where the wedding was taking place (don't ask) took us through pretty roads with old houses and woods. We were some of the last to arrive which was quite good as there wasn't too much time to worry about the logistics or any problems which might be about to arise. The service was quite quick, civil ceremonies usually are. The room was decked with flowers and all the men were wearing purple flowers. Janie was wearing a purple suit and Gavin was in a co-ordinating shirt and tie. The photographs were taken outside near the putting green but we didn't get too many strange looks: I believe weddings are quite common there.
Everyone lazed around for a while before we were called in to eat. I had been told that the club had said they were more than happy to ensure I had vegan food, so I was some what taken back when they presented me something very similar to lasagne, slathered in what was clearly bechemel sauce. Then they tried to tell me it had vegetarian cheese in it. We managed to reach a compromise of being cooked vegetables in sweet and sour sauce, which turned out to be far more appetising than I was anticipating. For dessert they tried to feed me fruit salad. My idea of fruit salad is obviously far removed from theirs however, as my glass featured some black grapes (edible), a few slices of apple (inedible), some pineapple (ditto), some melon balls (acceptable but I had melon for a starter, and that had been unripe), some orange slices (don't get me started on oranges) and a few pieces of unidentifiable fruit. Where was the raspberries and strawberries? The banana, plum, Granny Smiths, green grapes? Wasn't impressed. Later, I was practically forced by Rory to eat some chocolate coated cake ("They cost £5 each! You need to eat it!") so on top of my own guilt, the lady who seemed to be co-ordinating all the food had the gall to try and tell me off for eating something which obviously wasn't vegan. What business was it of hers?
We left early on Saturday morning, or what I perceive as early, at least. I wanted to stop off in Manchester to leave some posters advertising the Ladyfest All Dayer, but Rory refused, saying that he was too tired and his bags were too heavy. So we came straight home and I spent the afternoon sleeping. Afterwards we had pizza and discussed my weight problems. The solution was decided on to be no more pizza. And no more many things. I got weighed and it's far worse than I thought. We discussed the possibility of Slim Fast and diet pills, and my mum's offer of paying for liposuction. We agreed I should keep a food diary, stick to my exercise plan, cut back drastically on my calorie intake and if that doesn't make a successful impact, then to try the pills and Slim Fast, though I'd rather not have to eat that, it being full of milk. My mum said if I lose the weight I want to first then she'll pay for the remaining lumpy bits to be removed as a birthday present. Now I just need some self control again.
On Monday we went to the end of year show at college. There was some wonderful things, though it seems that there have been less good exhibits every year since I started going. Are the students getting worse? Am I starting to be more critical of art? Or a combination? Rory went home afterwards and I was left alone again. Left to my food diary and my shit book (I'll Go To Bed At Noon - how it got shortlisted for the Booker I have no idea) and my self loathing. Bleugh. Two weeks to more hugs.
Finally, it seems Jo Brand is wanting song suggestions for a compilation called Music to Drain Radiators To. Naturally... 20:56
I also had purposes in Leeds as I had agreed to speak to a woman from Radio 4 about my experiences with depression. We got in touch with each other through a poster in SHIP asking for people willing to talk about themselves and their problems. The lady was sensible, sympathetic, informed and, most importantly, Taking A Sensible Approach. It was a far better experience than my time talking to Kerrang! Radio. Anyway, my contribution will be part of a show about depression called Is It Normal?, one of a series of four half hour shows to be aired around August looking at a variety of health issues and the normalcy or lack-thereof of each of them.
The evening's journey to Southport was described as turgid. The cumulative train journey time was two and half hours, but there was a half hour break in Manchester where we raided Sainsburys for biscuits as well. There was a reasonable amount of wildlife to be seen from the windows - I spotted two foxes, three rabbits and incalculable numbers of horses, cows and sheep. We didn't get to our hotel until after 10pm, by which time we were too tired to care about the shabbiness of our surroundings. The bathroom had mould, there was sheets not a duvet (and a woollen blanket, which, of course, I'm allergic to), one thin pillow each, dirty windows and the hotel bar closed at 11pm. I drowned my sorrows in bourbon. The biscuits that is, not the drink.
Friday started grey and windy but by lunchtime the weather had cleared up and it was a beautiful, sunny day. The trip to the golf course where the wedding was taking place (don't ask) took us through pretty roads with old houses and woods. We were some of the last to arrive which was quite good as there wasn't too much time to worry about the logistics or any problems which might be about to arise. The service was quite quick, civil ceremonies usually are. The room was decked with flowers and all the men were wearing purple flowers. Janie was wearing a purple suit and Gavin was in a co-ordinating shirt and tie. The photographs were taken outside near the putting green but we didn't get too many strange looks: I believe weddings are quite common there.
Everyone lazed around for a while before we were called in to eat. I had been told that the club had said they were more than happy to ensure I had vegan food, so I was some what taken back when they presented me something very similar to lasagne, slathered in what was clearly bechemel sauce. Then they tried to tell me it had vegetarian cheese in it. We managed to reach a compromise of being cooked vegetables in sweet and sour sauce, which turned out to be far more appetising than I was anticipating. For dessert they tried to feed me fruit salad. My idea of fruit salad is obviously far removed from theirs however, as my glass featured some black grapes (edible), a few slices of apple (inedible), some pineapple (ditto), some melon balls (acceptable but I had melon for a starter, and that had been unripe), some orange slices (don't get me started on oranges) and a few pieces of unidentifiable fruit. Where was the raspberries and strawberries? The banana, plum, Granny Smiths, green grapes? Wasn't impressed. Later, I was practically forced by Rory to eat some chocolate coated cake ("They cost £5 each! You need to eat it!") so on top of my own guilt, the lady who seemed to be co-ordinating all the food had the gall to try and tell me off for eating something which obviously wasn't vegan. What business was it of hers?
We left early on Saturday morning, or what I perceive as early, at least. I wanted to stop off in Manchester to leave some posters advertising the Ladyfest All Dayer, but Rory refused, saying that he was too tired and his bags were too heavy. So we came straight home and I spent the afternoon sleeping. Afterwards we had pizza and discussed my weight problems. The solution was decided on to be no more pizza. And no more many things. I got weighed and it's far worse than I thought. We discussed the possibility of Slim Fast and diet pills, and my mum's offer of paying for liposuction. We agreed I should keep a food diary, stick to my exercise plan, cut back drastically on my calorie intake and if that doesn't make a successful impact, then to try the pills and Slim Fast, though I'd rather not have to eat that, it being full of milk. My mum said if I lose the weight I want to first then she'll pay for the remaining lumpy bits to be removed as a birthday present. Now I just need some self control again.
On Monday we went to the end of year show at college. There was some wonderful things, though it seems that there have been less good exhibits every year since I started going. Are the students getting worse? Am I starting to be more critical of art? Or a combination? Rory went home afterwards and I was left alone again. Left to my food diary and my shit book (I'll Go To Bed At Noon - how it got shortlisted for the Booker I have no idea) and my self loathing. Bleugh. Two weeks to more hugs.
Finally, it seems Jo Brand is wanting song suggestions for a compilation called Music to Drain Radiators To. Naturally... 20:56
Monday, June 19
You know something's wrong when you start getting messages like this and they actually make sense:
How weird, this isn't a chat-up line but I think I saw you last week at a do at the Brudenel Social Club.
It was an arts event put on by the black dog people. If you were there, I was the fella with the black pig mask, big knife, rotting meat and loud feedback.
I'm hard to miss!
All the best 17:35
How weird, this isn't a chat-up line but I think I saw you last week at a do at the Brudenel Social Club.
It was an arts event put on by the black dog people. If you were there, I was the fella with the black pig mask, big knife, rotting meat and loud feedback.
I'm hard to miss!
All the best 17:35
Friday, June 16
Last night was the Black Dogs evening based on food. I went with Robert Dane, everyone else who had expressed interested in coming having decided they had better things to do. I wish I had had too, really. It was no where near as busy as the first evening they held, which was good for me, but meant there was little atmosphere. There was no real art, as there had been last time, though some bands played but they were mostly dull. There was strawberry tart testing, which I couldn't participate in due to the ingredients, and you could also have free parkin in exchange for a family recipe, which I had to turn down for the same reasons.
The only bits I really liked were, firstly, an I Ching biscuit affair, where you had to consider your state of being then fish out a plastic ball from a giant sweet jar. Inside the ball was one of hexagrams and a brief description of its meaning. The organisers then iced your hexagram onto a biscuit of your choice, using either pink or white icing as you preferred, which you then ate, to help you become your state of being. I gave it Robert Dane, as they had eggs in.
The second part I enjoyed was Ready, Steady, Art, based very loosely around Ready, Steady, Cook. Here two members of the audience were dragged on stage and had to select some foodstuffs from under a blanket. They, and the artist they were paired with, then had to create a piece of art from their items in 5 minutes, using only basic kitchen implements (knife, grater, can opener etc), kebab sticks and a microwave. Marks were allocated for presentation, nature of the artwork, and the bollocks they could come up about it. It was wonderful, well, except for the smell of pilchards.
In reflection I think I learned that the best pieces of art, or the ones I consider to be the best, are the ones which involve audience participation. What I loved best about the last Black Dogs night was the "Learn To Be An Artist" booklet where you had to colour things in and make things etc. The breakneck speed we went through it only added to the experience. So in future, I need to integrate some element of interaction into my art, I think. Just with less of the pilchards. 13:59
The only bits I really liked were, firstly, an I Ching biscuit affair, where you had to consider your state of being then fish out a plastic ball from a giant sweet jar. Inside the ball was one of hexagrams and a brief description of its meaning. The organisers then iced your hexagram onto a biscuit of your choice, using either pink or white icing as you preferred, which you then ate, to help you become your state of being. I gave it Robert Dane, as they had eggs in.
The second part I enjoyed was Ready, Steady, Art, based very loosely around Ready, Steady, Cook. Here two members of the audience were dragged on stage and had to select some foodstuffs from under a blanket. They, and the artist they were paired with, then had to create a piece of art from their items in 5 minutes, using only basic kitchen implements (knife, grater, can opener etc), kebab sticks and a microwave. Marks were allocated for presentation, nature of the artwork, and the bollocks they could come up about it. It was wonderful, well, except for the smell of pilchards.
In reflection I think I learned that the best pieces of art, or the ones I consider to be the best, are the ones which involve audience participation. What I loved best about the last Black Dogs night was the "Learn To Be An Artist" booklet where you had to colour things in and make things etc. The breakneck speed we went through it only added to the experience. So in future, I need to integrate some element of interaction into my art, I think. Just with less of the pilchards. 13:59
Wednesday, June 14
Pick Me Up is a webzine I've been reading for a little while now. There was a wonderful story recently about some students in Sheffield who had created a Street Piano, a Street Piano being a piano in the street in that anyone can come along and play. Such a wonderful idea made me very happy, and to spread the happiness in a big hippy love-fest, I'm linking to it too.
21:39
Friday, June 9
Exciting things have been happening of late, and there are more to come too. College is over until September, and from the introduction we were given, it appears as if the coming year is more suited to me than the current one. I miraculously managed to pass my drawing elective, just, getting 41, 40 being the pass mark. I also got something else significant, a new tattoo:
More photos when it's fully healed. My exercises set by Relate have been going well, and I've discovered some fantastic lube. I highly recommend it.
Things are really taking off with Manifesta. They've agreed I can put on Pete Green in September, and I'm helping Ian out next Saturday with his Bakelite gig, to learn about how to organise these things. Next month, we're having an all-dayer to help promote next year's Ladyfest. I have agreed to let a band called Drunk Granny stay at my house, but in retrospect, I'm not sure if this was a good move or not. Maybe I should have selected a band with a less... destructive name? I'm also going to be baking my wonderful Applesauce Spice Cake, learning about using a sound desk, and organising a small art exhibition with Ali (if she ever replies to my email). I said I was going to get involved with them, and it seems I'm certainly doing so. I'm also helping distribute flyers for Suck My Left One and I said that I'll do some DJing in the second, laid back room in a couple of months (as I'm elsewhere when it's on until August).
Last night Robert Dane and I went to see Monkey Swallows The Universe, who were supporting Camera Obscura. We latched onto a girl called Amy who was there on her own, none of her friends would come with her. Alex and her boyfriend Tom were also there, though they only turned up after Monkey...'s wonderful set, which was rudely talked through by the rest of the crowd. Afterwards I went up to their singer, who is incredibly tiny, she must take a size 6 at the most, and asked if they'd be interested in playing my gig in September. She said they would be but they have to keep September free as they're trying to organise a tour with the Long Blondes. What a great gig that would be. She did say though that if the tour doesn't happen then I should mail them a bit closer to the time and they'll see. I mentioned Pete Green and she said they've played some gigs together, so I expect all would be well on that front. I'm just amazingly proud of myself that I managed to go up and talk in a recognisable language to her, unlike when I met Ooberman and all I could do was grin and wave at them. Steve seemed rather worried by it... Robert and I left about 5 songs into Camera Obscura's set, he was a little bored by them and I was tired.
My mum's trying to blackmail me into going to Oxford to see my brother. The idea of spending days at a time with 3 people who drive me up the wall, and with no escape, doesn't fill me with enthusiasm, though she doesn't seem to realise this. Luckily I can't go for at least another month: I go to Belfast this evening, next weekend is the gig with Ian, and Robert Dane's meant to be playing his first solo gig on the Sunday, and the weekend after that I'm Southport for Gavin and Janie's wedding. She only comments that I would be busy, wouldn't I, etc etc. She was so against my nan and her emotional blackmail but she uses exactly the same techniques herself! My brother isn't too fussed about my inability to come down in the near future, and he says anytime in the summer would be good, it doesn't have to be soon. And unrelatedly, but bizarrely, he's gone vegetarian. If ever there was someone who I thought would never give up meat, it's him. Or Rory. Them both equally, I suppose. Gods know why, I didn't have time to find out as I was ringing his mobile. I told mum and she was as amazed as I am. At least it got her to shut about going to Oxford for thirty seconds. 14:57
More photos when it's fully healed. My exercises set by Relate have been going well, and I've discovered some fantastic lube. I highly recommend it.
Things are really taking off with Manifesta. They've agreed I can put on Pete Green in September, and I'm helping Ian out next Saturday with his Bakelite gig, to learn about how to organise these things. Next month, we're having an all-dayer to help promote next year's Ladyfest. I have agreed to let a band called Drunk Granny stay at my house, but in retrospect, I'm not sure if this was a good move or not. Maybe I should have selected a band with a less... destructive name? I'm also going to be baking my wonderful Applesauce Spice Cake, learning about using a sound desk, and organising a small art exhibition with Ali (if she ever replies to my email). I said I was going to get involved with them, and it seems I'm certainly doing so. I'm also helping distribute flyers for Suck My Left One and I said that I'll do some DJing in the second, laid back room in a couple of months (as I'm elsewhere when it's on until August).
Last night Robert Dane and I went to see Monkey Swallows The Universe, who were supporting Camera Obscura. We latched onto a girl called Amy who was there on her own, none of her friends would come with her. Alex and her boyfriend Tom were also there, though they only turned up after Monkey...'s wonderful set, which was rudely talked through by the rest of the crowd. Afterwards I went up to their singer, who is incredibly tiny, she must take a size 6 at the most, and asked if they'd be interested in playing my gig in September. She said they would be but they have to keep September free as they're trying to organise a tour with the Long Blondes. What a great gig that would be. She did say though that if the tour doesn't happen then I should mail them a bit closer to the time and they'll see. I mentioned Pete Green and she said they've played some gigs together, so I expect all would be well on that front. I'm just amazingly proud of myself that I managed to go up and talk in a recognisable language to her, unlike when I met Ooberman and all I could do was grin and wave at them. Steve seemed rather worried by it... Robert and I left about 5 songs into Camera Obscura's set, he was a little bored by them and I was tired.
My mum's trying to blackmail me into going to Oxford to see my brother. The idea of spending days at a time with 3 people who drive me up the wall, and with no escape, doesn't fill me with enthusiasm, though she doesn't seem to realise this. Luckily I can't go for at least another month: I go to Belfast this evening, next weekend is the gig with Ian, and Robert Dane's meant to be playing his first solo gig on the Sunday, and the weekend after that I'm Southport for Gavin and Janie's wedding. She only comments that I would be busy, wouldn't I, etc etc. She was so against my nan and her emotional blackmail but she uses exactly the same techniques herself! My brother isn't too fussed about my inability to come down in the near future, and he says anytime in the summer would be good, it doesn't have to be soon. And unrelatedly, but bizarrely, he's gone vegetarian. If ever there was someone who I thought would never give up meat, it's him. Or Rory. Them both equally, I suppose. Gods know why, I didn't have time to find out as I was ringing his mobile. I told mum and she was as amazed as I am. At least it got her to shut about going to Oxford for thirty seconds. 14:57
