Friday, 14 November 2008


So I'm alive and kicking; making a film, planning a show, forming a collective and still motherfucking unemployed, which on the plus side has at least left me with enough free time to stud my leather jacket. If you're wondering why I don't have a job it's probably because I've spent two months smoking, fucking, drinking cheap, tooth-stripping red wine and listening to Frank Zappa in our Bethnal Green shag pad - ha! - or maybe it's because the only interview I had was for All Saints and was an unmitigated disaster. If you're one of those people who really gets off, carnally speaking, on being humiliated, then instead of being pissed-on or dressing up as a baby or whatever else it is that trips your trigger, you weird fuck, I would highly recommend making a poster of an "ideal employee" with three or four other grown adults and then "presenting to the group" about the reason your particular quartet or trio gave your caricature six eyes (it's because a "good employee should be looking at everything") or you put it on rollerskates  (they were actually supposed to be combat boots, but the guy in the sweatervest was as shitty at drawing as he was at being a human being), because I certainly had to have a very hot shower when I got home.

I had my fringe cut pretty short today, and a lesser woman might describe the overall vibe as "retarded", but whatever, I like it. Saw S.C.U.M play yesterday at the Off/Modern show and I'd really like to say that I didn't enjoy it, but you know what? I thought they had a certain Krautrock charm. I am a Barleyite cliche. Bite me. (I would definately let the singer of S.C.U.M bite me, FYI, although I just read in i-D that they are aged between 16 and 19, so if he's under eighteen then I am probably forced to retract that for legal reasons. God, I am disgusting. I hope his mum never googles his band.)

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