blood runs through our veins...that's where our similarity ends

The March Violets.

Totally surreal.

Conflicting emotions.

You're stood there listening to a band that you're bang into, who broke up before you got into them. I was beaming like a broken fangirl, but something just felt too wrong/too retro. I felt like I was gonna break open a rift in the space-time continuum just being party to it. Is anything possible? Don't get me wrong I enjoyed/loved the gig. I just felt out of time. And out of place. It was a bit like sex with an ex, there's still something intangible drawing you there, it's just not quite right anymore. Do you know what I mean? They did the whole back catalogue, sounded exactly how they sound on record, and did 4(?) new songs. I was 3 rows from the front and the mosh pit wasn't too violent, until the last 3 songs(I moved!). I really don't get why boys at gigs have to be such total knobs sometimes, violence at gigs ain't big and it ain't clever. The Riot grrrl ethos faded fast from the gig-going consciousness m'afraid.It was a meak gig for the moshing really, I just don't know why some folk quite literally haven to throw their weight around? This really isn't a gripe with The Violets gig, just a general ongoing, gig-going gripe.Maybe I'm just getting old, lol!


Most notably I re-met 'big gay Michael', my dear old friend, who I lost touch with apx 8yrs ago due to me not being able to understand him. He'd not changed his first language it was just the drugs took over (him lol) and we couldn't get to a meaningful sentence between us. We lost touch accidently. We were a bit crap to be honest. Anyway, I saw him and burst into tears of joy and now we're back in touch, simple. If I'm honest though between his expressions of pure genius and/or wrongness I've still no idea what's going on, but that doesn't seem so important anymore ;).We've had some amazingly hilarious journies and I'd trust that man with my life. I'm off to see his mum and dad, and meet his boyfriend over Xmas.He's in love. We talked of the fragility of that state. It's good to see him happy and loved. I was so ardent in my exasperated attempts to ensure that we wouldn't lose touch again I even gave him my mums telephone number, lol masochist? Maybe.My mum taught him flower arranging. Oh Christ, his grandma, what a woman, we reminisced about her drunkenly crashing his party and making everyone Harvey Wallbangers. Also finding the pavlova me and Mike had hidden in the washing machine so we could selfishly indulge when everyone else had left, only gran had already put her smalls in there LOL(we really hadn't noticed)! Her sprightly statement of "There's a pavlova in mi gusset" will haunt me till my dying day! (delivered in the finest Liverpudlian accent).

Why did I eat toilet paper?

There's an endless checklist of people I met/chatted with and I'm just journalling this for my benefit of my dire memory: Sir Ann(who kindly showed me lots of pictures of pervs from Club Lash and Pete Wiley from The Mighty Wah), Chad and Angela-the lovecats, the ever wonderful Mark and Kerry, Linzi, my delightful Gilly, Ian,Chris Tofu, Jason C, Little Steve, Vicky, Fraggle, Glenny, Ian Sturmed(who's a really nice ((single)) bloke, AND he remembered me FAVOURABLY despite me drunkenly pinching his ass at Whitby and possibly the only person I may have offended in the whole evening LOL! Top marks H), Tricia, Tom, John dj, Claire, Clare, Phono Clare, Sarah-peddle or pebble?, Dawn, Jeane, other Kerry, Pete, Mike the vegan, Big Daz, Martin Laaaarner, Madrid Marco, and the old Batfish Boys road crew from Bedford, (Georgie, Richard, Danny, Benoit-from Salvation), the dj from Club Lash who's kilt I looked up-I apologised retrospectively for this and forseeably, just in case I do it again ;). Oddly Mick Brown from The Mission's wife was selling TMV t-shirts. Michael tried to give her his page of poetry...LOLOL! Oh and I made Tom Ashton from The Violets feel my vibrating arm. I have no idea why? My, how that arm gets around. Oh, and Simon D spoke to me(small 'oooh'!), nothing too involved or heavy, well just 'big t-shirts for fat people', this seems to be a recurring theme in our communication.

Mikey/Nikitta quite frankly looked bored shitless at (many)junctures during the evening(and his 5" heels were killing him), this's what happens when an old goth meets lots of other old goths I guess - for around 3 hours I just shuffled between smoking area and loo and back, with about 50 million chat stops. Perfect! Not so perfect was some of these people may not have seen me since I was 19, drunk and high and I'm kinda wondering what's changed. Hmm.

I'm a bit numb. It's also 8.22 am and I've not slept yet. Despite my chest infection and temperature I did well(I will suffer dearly now though). Also (I do hope somewhat successfully, but it is the taking part that counts) I managed to carry off PVC, leather, cat ears, a hairpiece, sequins, black and silver false eyelashes and pearls. I just love wearing a pearl necklace.

Give me one good reason, give me my s....


Coming down, I need a bath, blah blah blah, wash the sin away, relax.