Someone's Been Fucking With The Apparatus

Aye apologies for the rather desperate and getafuyabassa-esque tone to yesterday afternoon's post. Felt discombobulated and tired and 'blown in on something I don't understand'. I sometimes feel that way when I'm in the weege (after consideration I've decided to drop the 'd' in the spelling. The d adds a certain cheuch tuff vibe that I like but it maybe reduces the phrase in authenticity somewhat. You ken how much I like to keep things real and all! I've also decided that whenever the Moggers are mentioned. I shall use 'scourge' instead of 'scurge'. It just has more oomph. I've deliberately not talked re these bastards yet. It's asking too much of your time! I can go on for days about them. There might come a time when I shall!)- My mind can't get away from all that West End bohemia that you read about. I'm alternately drawn to it and apalled by it. It appears to set a design for life that I of course can't live up to and that ends up spooking me. I always get physically lost in the weege too and it gets on my wick. I'm starting to feel more than just a bit powerless now. No matter how often I use maps or how many times I've been to the place I'm trying to find, I still get lost!!! It seems to happen without fail. It wears me out. Shit that's a Thom E Yorke line isn't it??!! Aargh... undermined by a lack of 'breadth of awareness' once more. If only quoting Clap Your Hands Say Indie came more readily to mind, I'd be loved and lauded...and have big hair of course. I don't know if you ken this but in a parallel universe I run a funky indie club called 'Lush Life', I am 23 yrs old, I live in Byres Road, I know all the members of The 1990's, I'm shagging someone called Jacinta who works for an ethical clothes firm as well as working on an ad hoc basis in Brel (natch), I work for Creeping Bent records and I also manage an up and coming act of 'skinny indie boys' called Loopy Lucifer. In short, in this life I can BELIEVE THE HYPE and not give two fucks. Bittersweet vibes man bittersweet...anyway, shaking off the filth and the SCOOM I get over it...hung around in the weege forever yesterday. Ended up in the now reinvigorated 'Sleazy's'. This is a rather nice pub in Sauchiehall Street which attracts some hipsters but not TOO many. CH and myself had a lovely 'hello Cleveland' moment with all 3 members of Karate there once! Lovely memories indeed...ahhh...anyway, it's been 'done up' recently. It used to be nice n' dingy (!) and I liked that. It's gone a wee bit shinier post the refit but isn't too affected/effected. It's got a vaguely similar vibe and also 'the best juke box in Glasgow' (thanks CJ!...answers on a postcard!) remains in place. Rather fabulously, 'Held' by Smog was playing as I walked in...oh you shouldn't have...Propped up the bar for an hour or so. Gorgeous Monica Queen-esque lass behind the bar etc etc! I used to hate the thought of sitting 'at the bar'- it just seemed too keen and I felt in awbody's road. Funnilly enough since my grog consumption has went through the roof I have identified it simply as the place that is closest to the supplies of beer on the premises so therefore it isn't really the worst place to sit after all!...ah alcohol schtick, isn't it grand?..the days of me wearing 'Guiness-Pure Genius' T's aren't far off. In my new role as a barfly I enjoyed the pose and the feel of having yer elbows on the bar! It seemed as if I was caught up in a bosom of beer and vibes. It felt welcoming, safe, desperate, tragic, despairing all at the same time. I loved it! I now intend to drink myself to death!..without the acquisition of 'tarts with a heart' and without impersonating Jimmy Stewart tho'. To add to the genuine experience a fellow 'sad man' sat next to me and started talking about personal tragedy! Fucking priceless. You heard it first dear readers...I have it mapped out...liver failure by 2008....the use of the phrase 'he's been drinking heavily for some time' to appear ad nauseam before long etc etc etc...moving on...ended up at the metal fest I referred to yesterday. First up was some rubbish called Zico Chain. All I can say is that a few years back they would all have had poodles and would have adopted monikers such as Desi Rexxx, Rexxy Roxx etc etc. They might well have come from Swansea too. Anyway, next up were Pelican, very much one of KB's fave bands. We saw them before Xmas and they were pretty good, I suppose. They play a brand of lopey epic oceanic riffage a bit like a looser and less metally Isis. They have a good line in big guitar workouts but sadly they also have one of the worst drummers I've ever seen. To say this guy holds them back is to understate more than just a tad. This guy has no sense of timing or feel or any power/finesse/ imagination at all. Everything is limp/insipid and totally plodding. It's unusual to see such a good/successful band wi' such a crap drummer. Maybe they're his band? Not sure how else he's survived. If he could play in the octopus style which suits the music then I think this band could really be something. As it is, because of the lack of any underpinning and nuance from behind you notice that they kinda go on and on and on and you just end up thinking that they could do with broadening their pallette somewhat. If you like Pelican please email them and tell them to fire their neebor!! I might just do it one of these days! Next up were faves of the moment Cave In. I would love to think they're named after 'the' song but they probably aren't. They all seem to have beards and these odd 'Herr Flick' sculpted fringes so that it feels as if you're watching a stage full of Dennis Wilson's as dressed by Nicky Clark. I only lasted one song I'm afraid so I can't judge the music. I heard a few songs a while ago which were quite truculent. This song wasn't! The main Beach Boy had a very reedy voice which drove me to the exit. It was good to see KB. We spoke for a while and he seemed happier than the other day. This also made me feel somewhat brighter. That situ was helped by the presence of SM too. He is one of the nicest of folk. He also has a language all of his own! He is Kirkcaldy though and through and talks in T-Hall-ese (Templehall is a rough ass area of Fife where we both stayed for some time) complete with some fantastic phraseology which I will avail you of at some point! His pal Shaun came along too. He is a likeable and completely unreconstructed Fifer who sings in an extremely amusing local act. He again converses in a language all his own. This seems to use variations of the word 'paste' to describe most things! I loved that. Quote...'Aye Pelican were pretty pasty'/ 'nae vocals...just paste'. Give the guy a knighthood. There has never been a better description of any band never mind Pelican. So I was mega tired and I limped to the station to beat a hasty retreat on a train full of the aforementioned 'they all look forward to their Saturdays'/ 'They shall never take our FREEDOM' types fresh frae 'Hampden in the shite' or whatever it's poetically kent as. I'll give you a glib and boomy one...I refuse to identify national boundaries and ideas of nationhood! Quite simply they are divisive and lazy and silly and I cannae be geered going on..anyway..the sight of 200 wee shites wrapped in Saltires didn't cheer me up put it that way. One interesting wee thing was the fact that close up the football 'geezers' looked primarily to be of the same stock as the rugger buggers I saw up close last weekend! A few schemies but a few Farquahars as well...strange...I also swear that Peter York was sitting in front of me on the train back! I'm sure he'd just been to the national stadium and enjoyed a pie and a pint with his peers etc etc..superb...came hame and had a wee and kinda terse (at first) chat with A-W, the lass from the interweb I mentioned the other day. I'd missed her message on the MSN. Got the feeling she wasn't overjoyed! We still finalised plans for our date next week tho'! Good lord...I don't know what to expect at all!..neither does she!!...fuck...crashed oot and did not appreciate having to get up at 7.30 for another day at the coal face. Eventually hauled myself out of bed at 8.30 into what appeared to be a glacier which had formed inside the shithole. It was SO cold...this fucking place has NO central heating! Headed intae work after some procrastination. Acht it was the usual shecht...heaviosity, thoughts of DT, thoughts of TLK (she's been very cool and lovely recently. We had a guid chat today even if she appeared a little terse at times. Just knackered I think. I'm finding that the idea of 'switching off' my feelings about her is proving more than a tad fanciful!) and a general coal face malaise. Came here to the land of the Interweb. Mood went up again when I saw the lovely Sevigny-esque French lass who works here (jeez! There seems to be a lot of hetero scum stuff happening at the moment. I shall try to work on that). This was balanced by the funky sounds on display. I hate the funk. I've never had it! Only nubiles have it and I ain't one of them...aye I have to go as Finlay Quaye (sic?) has just come on...