ALABAMA 3 NOW TOURING THE STATES

FINALLY! ENDLICH! after nigh on eight years, Alabama 3 (or A3, Stateside), the band who do 'Woke Up This Morning' – the themesong for The Sopranos, the most popular TV programme in history – are back touring the States, hoorah! next pic with big thanks to Mikey (click to totally engorge).



since 07,00 this morning, the one and only Rock Freebase has been txtng me but very unfortunately (for him) i was out on the balcony with Hunter and Special Guest Star Visitor, ecstatically (literally) watching the sunrise for the three hours previously (thanks to Haydn Williams for above Freebase photo).


gorgeous, huh? yeah we thought so too. anyway, i missed Mark's, err, Rock's first txt before they split... pity, that. but since they landed, i've been receiving little updates and requests for helpful hints and my heavy-duty NYC street cred is soaring way beyond beyond, like.


whoa, dudes... y'all are SO gonna owe me before your asses hit British soil again. *snigger* as well, i've been directing them to my fave places to eat, buy clothing and hang out and chill and warning them with things like 'don't you fuckin' dare go further East than Avenue A, especially not in that cowboy get-up...' *snigger* thanks again, Mikey, for next photo as well.



i just got off the phone with Rock, soz, off phone with Mark... he told me that Zoe, rather Devlin Love was laughing her ass off in the hotelroom, listening to us hassling long distance. here's Rock and Devlin (well, her back showing a teenytiny peek at her way cool spinal tat) onstage last Autumn during MOR Tour 1. helpful hint: TTLY click on this for detailistic engorgement.


i thought i could hear a bit of giggling behind him but wasn't sure until he said and that just made me stray even further off-topic, to his rising annoyance. hey Zoe... *kiss* gawd! that voice! i'd kill for that voice. well, maybe maim...


i mean, she's heard us on the phone before but not long distance and not when i permit my ADD to lead me, getting ditzier by the second, busting his chops (on purpose of course) just to get him all riled and stuff cause he's so cute when he's angry. here he is, right before he almost bit my head off (figuratively) over at Chris's a few months back.


BTW, the refusal to meet my gaze is always the first sign i'm pushing it a bit too much as far as Hisself is concerned, and whoa, do i use that to my advantage when dissing time comes round (then again with him and me, it's ALWAYS dissing time). *snigger* it was about half a minute after above phone pic, that he actually blew his stack. i forget why, exactly, but i do remember Chris' shoulders shaking in silent hilarity (his back was toward us cause he was at his desk as we sat, arguing, behind him). Mark totally missed that and i certainly wasn't going to point it out but it was funny (maybe you hadda be there, but take my word for it).

whoa, i'm waaaay off-topic, supposed to be talking American dates but later for that, back to the phonecall (the first of many tonight), this occurred after he totally missed my textual directions to my and Techie-boy's fave place to nom down on the Lower East Side, (Rock) 'Around The Clock'. they're off to dinner now, deciding to cab it over instead of walking the 20 minutes from their hotel, the lightweights. i laughed when he told me some shit about how hot it was (it was only like 23C – about 76F) *snigger*. and i got huge Schadenfreude when i told him how wonderfully cool it was here (10C – 50F). BTW, Mark chose the tuna steak at Around The Clock if anyone's interested.

back to when they were leaving the hotel, i told him to tell the others to try to use those wack 'American' accents to their advantage cause if they have the misfortune of getting the wrong cab drivers, they should 'dig yer heels in, cos it's gonna be a bumpy ride...fellahs'.


OK, the dates, but first a caveat: if y'all are politically aware, have a high tolerance for George Carlin's 7 forbidden words (and more), understand, subscribe to and/or tolerate the concept of recreational drugs as givens within one's life and are there to choose or not, are totally against multi-nationals – think 'Socialism! Straight to the mainline!' – and are gifted with a strong sense of irony, i'd advise youse all to break your asses to catch this band cause who the hell wants to wait another seven-plus years? then again, if you're stupid but love to dance till 'You ain't never goin' home', this is your chance to see 'the Music Industry's Best Kept Secret' – the Alabama 3. OK now, dates, cities and venues:

1. july, NYC – The Fillmore At Irving Plaza, 17 Irving Place, NY New York (book tickets: ticketmaster).

2. july, Cleveland – Cleveland House Of Blues, 308 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland Ohio 44114 (book tickets: ticketmaster).

3. july, Milwaukee – Summerfest, 200 North Harbor Drive, Milwaukee Wisconsin 53202 (book tickets: Summer Fest).

4. july, Chicago – Benefit for the Chicago National Autism Association at the Cubby Bear at Wrigleyville, 1059 West Addison Street, Chicago, Illinois 60613 (1.773.327.1662) (book tickets: ticketmaster).

5. july, 1st Rothbury Festival (Michigan) – 'Let's Save The World: Rothbury is dedicated to throwing a huge party with a purpose. This July 4th weekend, Rothbury emerges as a new American celebration where music and cause join together to stir ideas, to awaken possibilities, and to empower through knowledge. And yeah, to have the time of our lives. Our theme is Finding Energy Independence...' (buy tickets from the venue).

it's a 3-day festie and the line-up is absolutely amazing. apart from the Alabama 3 and amongst many others, there're Dave Matthews, Primus, Snoop Dogg (watch out, Snoop – Larry's gonna be totally spoingy that you're there), some blasts from the hippie dippy past: Mickey Hart and Phil Lesh each have their own bands (me: big whoop, LOL); but another past blast is Taj Majal, whoa, i used to love that cat. as well, there's Crystal Method, hoorah! and The Wailers and Dylan's son, Jakob *yawn* and a veritable tonne of others.

moving on to things of a more personal nature, this next from the Department of White Powder Airlines and other such stuff of an errant nature, so 'This is your captain speaking...' *in a D Wayne voice*


up until yesterday, i was all pleased to be on Klan (the band's most excellent Gil Scott-Heron cover) and as such, listed as a Baggage Handler on M.O.R's liner notes. wait... LMAO at 'pleased'. i'm fucking ECSTATIC and milking it – what Andy Warhol called my '15 minutes' – for all it's worth, as much as i can, whenever i can and in all truth, i prolly will till the day i fuckin' die. anyway, back to baggage handlers, i shouldn't really be too fussed; i mean, so's Samantha listed again as well as her and Larry's beautiful liddle daughter Nansi, Zoe, Be and Errol, Nick Reynolds, D Wayne's wife, Sister Francesca Love, 'The Weeping Women of the Web' (that's us!) 'and all A3 soldiers everywhere'.

but they're not me with my ultra-cynical sensibility, my way too touchy sensitivity, my NYC-ness, my social anxiety, my LSE, my ADD, my Tourette's, my Asperger's, my wellworn liver, my fucked childhood, my baaaad attitude and my big fuckin' mouth. so last night, i'm watching Scarface and like 16 minutes in, Al Pacino as Tony Montana, not pleased with the paltry price he's offered for whacking some Cuban Communist pol, goes:

'Who do y'think we are, baggage handlers?'

hmmpf... Larry, dude, i'm SO gonna Have Words With You next time i see you, dude. *glare* i mean, i can imagine him, all feeling good and all, in his own speshull Larry-ness sitting at home with Samantha last Winter, both of them all sparkley and excited about the upcoming release of the new album and discussing the Travel aspect of the concept and stuff.

here's a tiny picture of the two of them i took at some party new year's '07. we were so fucked up, it was incredible. shortly afterwards, Chris, Mark and i cabbed it back to Chris' to stay up the rest of the night, doing more. but i digress...

BTW if you're not familiar with the Alabama 3 and their officially released albums (UK Amazon, US Amazon), there's an entirely other layer of meaning to the concept of Travel when it comes to the band: M.O.R's like an outer rings of Saturn kinda departure from prior albums, though each was a pretty much 180 degree genre-busting turnaround from the last, beginning with the wake-up shot that was 'Exile On Coldharbour Lane', the splendidly grim, stunningly dreary, dark and at times, staring into the abyss-type edginess of 'La Peste', the political and literally strobe-lit dancing your ass off on 'Power in the Blood' and the perfectly Americana country & westernessity (if you're into that sorta thing) merging with the outright tribute to American heroes like Johnny Cash on 'Outlaw'. and then there were the Mashvilles, kinda like tributaries emerging from the river of Outlaw but each with the band's unique twist (my fave's Mashville 1).

whoa... where the hell is this train going? LOL, i'm sooo off the track now. this fuckin' post is a trainwreck. wait! i choo-choo chooose yo- FUCK! grrrrrrr...


iz sound of teh Tourette's as well and big soz to n00bz, rather, non-Alabama 3 fans: no biggie if y'don't get above LOL Cat which i turned into something mocking myself *cough* (i'm actually addressing new Twitter people who've written). OK, moving right along, now we have M.O.R and the literal and virtually metaphorical travel theme, reflected in the CD cover above and liner-notes inside where we find cute little titles to differentiate the people who had anything to do with the making of the album.

so we find the bandmembers' names listed under 'In-Flight Entertainment' – oooh i totally forgot it lists Segs as 'Frank Zappatista' *beaming* cause he was still playing bass for a track or two. then there's 'Customs' – Jonathan and Ian their manager and agent, respectively; 'Navigation' – like the grown-up table with the heavies like Derek, president of the label, Larry's wife Samantha (whom i'm proud to call my friend), their ex-manager (about whom i've said more than enough over at FreeA3 but no more), the totally drop-dead gorgeous Monique who's as kind and friendly as if she were an ugly nobody (friend and manager of JAMM), Dan Barber (friend and Web architect of The Official Site), a couple fellahs whose names just crack me up for the being there (nah, i ain't telling) and Irvine Welsh (!) and other VIPs. and then we come to 'Baggage Handlers'.


and i can see Larry and Samantha sitting at home watching Scarface and laughing their asses off and getting all shouty like, 'That's it! We'll lump 'em all in as baggage handlers! Yes, even Zoe and Fran and Be, Errol and Nick! They'll never know what a dis it really is...!'


as i said above, we are SO gonna have words, Larry. *evil* i want Samantha and Boudicca to be there as well. right, while i'm on the topic of 'Revenge!' *in a K-K-K- Ken voice* hang on... i don't even remember how i got th- oh right, Scarface and the baggage handlers thing. right, revenge: yeah, Mark, i still owe you for Slumbelina. but it can wait... dish best served cold and alla that (even though i'm just dying to collect on the debt incurred by the damage done).


'Slumbelina Author Rock Freebase and Baggage Handler Disser / self-identified Fascist Fuckwit Larry Love onstage...' and who're now prolly stumbling in from whatever dive they ended up in, on the Lower East Side last night, beat, burnt, broke and everything but busted. and heaven help Larry if he went out in that shirt. *smirk* i warned Mark to tell him that, actually... i mean, wear it ANYwhere, in ANY Stateside city but NOT IN NY. Punkt, Ende.

what's blasting: 'This is your Captain speaking...' (D Wayne's 'Check In', the intro on M.O.R... turn up the bass and feel the heavy vibrations coming up through the soles of your feet cause that's how it feels at the beginning of each of their shows.

what's blasting as well: 'Sweet Joy' (top tune in the player), the tune ending M.O.R, i double, no i triple dare you to walk away before listening to this straight through (and believe me, people, there's no such thing as dead air on an A3 tune – keep it in mind).

DON'T MISS ALABAMA 3 TOURING AMERICA NOW (dates above or here). :-)

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Jan Enkelmann does Larry and DW

early last month whilst in Brixton, i got so messed up (in a good way) that by the time mah brain was functoning again, Stevie and i'd missed the opening of Jan Enkelmann's Photographic Exhibition of the Alabama 3 at the Ritzy Picturehouse on Brixton Oval, off Coldharbour Lane, in our mad dash to make it to the opening of Nick Reynolds' 402 Show where we got to see the Acoustic flavor of the band do their thang.

and that's where i briefly got to confer with Nick about him doing my death mask. well, not 'death mask' as such but death bits (those on my bod which haven't changed thanks to old age) as i don't wanna damn death mask, i just want my best bits done for perpetuity (tummy, butt, shoulders, like that). naturally, it'll all be labelled and captioned 'pushing 60? EAT MY DUST!' *snigger*

anyway, the show ended 31. may but big thanks to Marey Mac cause she sent me some of that which Stevie and i'd missed. in the artist's own words:

'...They are black-and-white digital archival inkjet prints (format 30 x 40cm). The prints are limited editions of five and are for sale at £60 unframed / £120 framed each...'

because this site is open for spam-bots to trawl and then spam people to death, either mail me for Enkelmann's addy or check his site for contact info. BTW, the poster for the show's only 5 quid.


OK, without further ado, here're the photos and THANKS AGAIN, MAREY MAC. *love*







and lastly but certainly not leastly, the promo photo for Enkelmann's exhibition, sans wordsyness.


hmmpf... if one didn't know any better, one would think the Alabama 3 were really two dudes but hey, i know better, as we all do and thank fuck for that. as for me, i'm totally gonna order the promo poster. too bad there're none of Freebase cause i would've ordered him as well (yes, for the price listed above). then again, i wish there were photos of the ENTIRE band, all nine including Zoe. hmmpf hmmpf and more hmmpf, LOL.

BIG THANKS TO MAREY MAC & JAN ENKELMANN. :-)

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why bother? (take 2)

the above puts all my tats to shame (and everyone else i know who have em)... in fact, i think i shall begin saving my money for rubyred lasers to scrape my skin clean – painful though it'll be – of that which i already've gotten.

more body art that makes me wanna scream out of jealousy, envy and all those other horrid negative feelings. i do hope i don't ever run into any of these people cause if i don't have a long-sleeved frockcoat or something to cover my own tats up, i'll just die of shame and all. here's another example of that which i'm tawkin' about... LOL, CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?


*snigger* sure y'all can. cuz i'm always all shouty and i do it real good. my fave shouty bits happen whenever i see the Alabama 3 live. although i should be used to it now, i'm all pleased when i get to scream my ass off at gigs, mostly cause those around me... well, it kinda gives them tacit permission to go wild and scream their fuckin' heads off as well. *preens*

in other news, i WUTM, rather, i woke up about midnight, after crashing at about 07,00 saturday morning so that's like 17 hours of fabaroo uninterrupted sleep. i love it and i'm not even done with the 'Net yet. stay tuned cause Marey Mac was nice enough to gimme some of the Alabama 3 photos that were on exhibit in Brixton recently. unfortunately, there are none of Freebase. i can only attribute this to the fact he doesn't call London 'home'.

but y'all know me, i shall be mailing the photographer ASAP to find out, exactly why Freebase wasn't included. stay tunity tuned... this might take awhile since i must wipe up the drooly bits, those languishing on my desk that viewing the photos caused. :-)

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woke up this morning

WUTM and got mahself a... ummm, what in hell did i get myself? i'll prolly remember before i'm done writing but for now, allow me to elucidate. i didn't exactly wake up this AM; i 'came to' is more like it, actually. anyway, i came to this morning and hadda rewind Sylvia cause i like, phased out (euphemism for 'passed out') right before she committed suicide and it's like an unwritten rool that i must pay strict attention to all those kinda details whenever a film shows anything of that nature. think of it as taking mental notes (LOL, emphasis on 'mental'). it's the total truth; ask anyone who knows me – whenever there's a decent bit of self-destruction detailed in any footage, if i miss even a second of it, especially if someone sitting with me has the gall to open his big fat mouth and tawk through a movie – well, in all truth, it's usually me talking, going 'watch, watch what s/he's gonna do now...'

right, way above is one of the many photos of this totally beautiful prism Pam gave me as part of her Christmas present last december but i'll get back to that a little bit later. hang on... i forg- OK, back to the film, as i fast-backwarded i caught a glimpse of pinkish orange streaking through a bit of the vertical blinds behind the TV, so i hit 'pause' and found this going on outside in the skies this AM (if you R-click and pretend you're gonna Save As, you'll see the time next pic was taken: at 04,43 this morning, the time i'm usually writing writty stuff, not tawdry pink site stuff.


as y'all can see, i was tired and my hands were shakey, thus blurry photo. it's unfortunate the colors don't shine through as they did when i Came To This Morning cause the streaky skies were nothing short of magnificent and Pam's prism was like blasting pure colors all over the kitchen, driving Hunter mad with delight (one of the few times he pretends to dig me so i can stand there, like an idiot, with an open book in my left hand – one of the many i'm attempting to read – whilst my right hand's spinning the prism.


two things: a), that scrolly curly thingy at left is one of the wrought iron supports that hold up the tin roof of the balcony. speaking of which, i love it when it rains straight down and the sound of the drops hitting the tin is just so... so, like Olde English to me. right, and the second thingy: b), when i get a bit too engrossed in my book and fail to spin the prism on cue, he reminds me by playfully biting the shit outta my leg.

i'm still not about to write about yesterday in London cause i was telling someone the same old story... now who the hell was it? i remember we were in the back garden of the Albert and for a few moments here and there i actually felt attractive again (just like the old days – amazing!) cause i caught these cute dudes smiling at me. the first time this happened i looked behind me cause this is such an infrequent occurrence that when it happens i can hardly believe guys are smiling at me. wait... eidetic memory, where arrrrre youuuuu? OK, i was standing up, Pam was seated to my left and Fran (not Mrs D Wayne) was at my right with Pixie right next to her. Chris was by my side. shit, only like a fraction of an eidetic memory thing which i'll chalk up to Needs Sleep Badly.

anyway, the same old story has something to do with – right, we were all talking about Being Happy and Being Anhedonic (well, i didn't use that word but that's what i was thinking). i was going on about how it took me so long to finally figure out i was better off never being happy cause i couldn't handle it when it was over. and it always ends. *to self* and this has what exactly to do with anything here, again? i think i might be sleep-typing actually; i'll know later on when i reread this. if i remember to reread it. anyway. happy, sappy, crappy... WTF? i had a point somewhere. RIGHT! holy shit, i actually remembered something in a fairly reasonable amount of time. and i'm actually happy cause i remembered (this'll only be a second of happy but i'm so desperate i take any 'happy' i can grab onto).

although i sent out a shitload of txts to meet people before i found out that most would be or were already at Glastonbury, i wanna thank the next buncha people who actually got back to me with their negatives (which, for once i don't take personally so AFAIC, that means i'm doing better, right? RIGHT? never mind). anyway, thank you: Stevie (Tourette and/or LOL: the Librarian of Love), Sarah J, Sarah (Mrs and Mrs Ifor The Engine), Sean D (sean with the liddle 's' on FreeA3), Topchick (the 3rd Sarah – it's wild, really, cause whenever i'm to txt or ring one of the Sarahs i know, i have to tippytype down a line of seven or eight different Sarahs in my cellphone and believe me, it gets confusing). and penultimately, i guess, rather grudgingly, i wanna thank Mikey (Dragnim), whom after five years, can't seem to get the liddle details straight to the point at which i'm gonna throttle him for trying to – um, rather, for making me feel like a moron, from which he always deflects by putting phoney liddle kisses (like this: x) after all his txts and mails now, prolly thinking he can buy me off cheap. *whispers* he's actually correct; i can be bought off cheaply, prolly cause i am. cheap, that is. *proudtard* ;-)

further, big thanks to Jane (Euripidean) for totally cracking me up and embarrassing me in front of a huge crowd of American tourists at Victoria Station. these were people who'd just asked to take my photo; as the one who came up to me said (paraphrasing) 'We want proof that there are older punk-rockers in England to show the people back home...'

LOL, they almost dropped dead when i went (in my bestest Tony Soprano NJ and/or Lawng Eyeland and/or Brooklyn accent 'but i'm an American too, dudes'. *snigger* LMAO! the looks on their faces!

anyway, back to Jane, a bit of her first txt read 'Morning, Rimone – how did the tattooing go? Congrats on getting them for free whilst being on the dole (!). Hah!...' this absolutely killed me to the point at which i thought i'd bust a gut, laughing my ass off, which's when the tourists came up to me. as well, i wanna thank Nomad who joined up at Twitter and almost destroyed me LOLing yesterday when he directed the aforelinked twit to me. this again was right in front of yet another group of tourists (Asian) but when they saw me laughing at my phone, i think it maybe scared them away (or at least, for whatever reason, they didn't ask me to pose for any goddamned photos).

Twitter's really great, both for attention whores and all other kindsa people and i truly wish everyone would join cause it's so much fun and y'all can do it via your machine or any of the many liddle apps they've built for it – i dig using Twitterrific.


but since my memory's crap, i usually forget and use the Web. and you can twit (i refuse to call them 'tweets') via your chat client and/or IM or via txts from your cellphone (apart from the fact that it's based in the States, there's a UK number so there aren't any expensive foreign txt charges whenever you twit from meatspace).

anyway, thank you, Nomad. and don't forget to tell that hell-bound toerag to fuck off with her New Age-y Lush – 'That's girls' stuff!' – pursuits *puke* and remind her (every chance you get) that I TOLD HER SO. FIVE YEARS AGO, even. *proud and preening* heh. O HAI, Alma! *beaming*

moving right along, and having totally nothing to do with anything above, i imagine at this very moment, Mark's mingling with the crowd at Glastonbury and i'm still totally pleased to say i'm happy for him, mostly cause i STILL don't feel the usual envy that i'm not there and that gnawing feeling of aggravation that i'm missing out on something. but i'm mentioning Mark as a half-assed reason to kinda lead in to a reason for posting a cool photo of Larry, after a coupla LOL Cats especially dedicated to him.



*singing* 'Hello (hellohellohellohello), I'm Larry Love (Larry Love, Larry Love, Larry Love)...'


*sigh* that VOICE! and i'll quit whilst i'm a head and whilst Samantha still likes me (not that ANYone could compete with her; in all actuallity, i think they're perfect together. *memory lane time* i remember one night at the Albert when i climbed up on a barstool to yell at Rob, all about Sam. first he went something like 'What the hell do you think you're doing, Rimone?' and i went (paraphrasing) 'i want YOU to know how it feels when someone miles taller than you talks down to me...' but i lied; i didn't talk – i was all shouty at him. LOL, i guess you hadda be there. *snigger*

and on that note i shall leave y'all. i'll be back after i do my required (now) two thousand words of real writty. right, almost forgot. suck it up, Lazybones and teh other Kitteh haters. Dragnim, i'm tawkin' to you, hillbilly boy. ;-)


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Drunken Luncheon

i took a quickie trip to London today and met the remains of the Brixton Posse in the garden out back of The Albert. this was after i txtd like 20, 30 people, all sending the same damn thing, asking them to meet me when i was done taking care o' biz at the Embassy. but stoopit me totally forgot Glastonbury's this weekend and more than half of my friends have been there since yesterday, all camping out and stuff, breathlessly awaiting the Alabama 3. the best bit about that last is for once, i don't feel any yearning to be there at all, neither envy nor jealousy and i'm totally telling the truth. um, i can haz maturity? *snigger* nah... i don't THINK so – mostly cuz i don't wannit. but as usual, i digress.

that is, i totally forgot about Glasto until Mark txtd back, saying the band were rehearsing all day at the studios at London Bridge and then they were off to the festie. since both Chris and i are taking a hiatus from any festies and Alabama 3 onstage in any way, shape or form for awhile, Mark's txt brought above LOL Doggeh to mind. Chris made it last year and i've posted it so many times, it's pathetic, but i can never get too much of anything i love so there it is, up above my head once again, and this time it's directed straightly at us.

moving right along, last wednesday as well as this past wednesday – after each of our tats sessions were finished at Holey Skin – Kate and i went off to the Hatchet to have Drunken Luncheon. just like Sunday Noms, i'm hoping our weekly DLs become a constant of our thang. anyway, apart from the pub being so damn old, it's stuff like this on the walls that charm the crap outta me (and make me go 'OH!' and then certain people actually have the nerve to shush me, but not Katie). anyway, dig:



whilst we were waiting for our fudz to be served, i was walking all over the place taking photos, just like a tourist (but i totally didn't care). and like most ancient buildings here, there's neither rhyme nor reason for the cul-de-sac type hallways and each storey in the Hatchet has shitloads of nooks and crannies and rooms in the wildest places – well, 'wild' to an American like me.

anyway, back to Katie, this was her tat after the first outlining last wednesday, as i posted it here.


but look at it NOW, after yesterday's session, and she's still not done.


BTW, i've been busting her balls cause she still doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up – kinda like meh but with a hugeass difference. *snigger* wait... that's really not funny. but i've found it better to mock myself than cry over things like wasting my life cause i actually don't think it's such a waste, mainly cause i'm a truly clever kinda kitteh and after a bit of deliberation when a child, i figured 'fuck it; i just wanna learn stuff' (but that's an entirely different story for yet another time). and once again, i veer dangerously off-topic and muchly so. anyway, i've encouraged her to get her tattoo artist licence since IMO she's got a shitload of talent; she drew and designed all of her tats, including Dolly (somewhere in some post below) as well as the anchor we both have on us, indelibly now and for-EVar. :-)

anyway, here's Kate at lunch yesterday right before our steaks were served.



the really funny thing about our friendship or whatever it is (unholy union whereas i haven't even begun on her yet? oops, said the quiet bit out loud again), whereas in past, i'd have fucking killed ANYone who made a comment referring to my friends and me and our obvious age difs; with Katie, whenever we're served anywhere or when assholes say shit under their breaths as they pass us on the street – mainly nasty comments having to do with me being her mother or whatever – i gleefully turn round and say something to the effect of 'no, stupid, i'm not her mom, i'm her grandmother. asshole'. :-) um... i can haz mellowing with age, mebbe? *all shouty* NO! NO! a thousand times no! errr, rather: 'nah, dint think so' (she said in a mature fashion). *snigger*

BTW, i'll get to my liddle trip to London sometime later tomorrow, after i've watched 'Sylvia' again (about Sylvia Plath, the American poet who committed suicide). there's a lot of her life and her personal POV to which i totally relate and always have, since i was a liddle grrl and first discovered Plath in the library and began writing poetry, but that's yet another story for yet another time, when i'm not feeling so fragile, like i am tonight. as i tell my friends in mailz, 'don't let my online tone fool you – there's a hugeass dif between SG and rimone' (though given a cursory glance and/or listen, one wouldn't know it).

right, before i forget, many thanks again to Christine for turning me on to this film, yet another depicting one of my fave areas of interest: beautiful self-destructive morbidity reflected in any medium in the arts, be it films, paintings, graphics et al. wait, here's an ADD alert and once more cause i love it since it occurred to me whilst writing the other night:


'WOOP! WOOP! that's teh sound of ADD!' – and then before i crash – it's like my daily exercise on the days i do actually force myself to sleep – i run like fuck up to the top of Bellevue as quickly as i can, to drop the rental DVD in the Royal Mail box so it gets back to Amazon, rather LoveFilm rentals in time for the next flick on my list of the month to arrive. long story and not worth the time to tell it.

getting back to the subject of being in London today (YAY!), i wanna thank Pam, Linda, Hannah, Bree-in (not sure how to spell his name but he's the dude who wrote most of U Don't Danse 2 Tekno, lo these many years ago, after Larry asked him to help him out), Glenn, Godwyn, Jason, Dave (not Traitor-boy, i mean, not Techie-D – i'm meaning Brixton Posse Dave, Freebase's ex-guitar tech)... mmmm, he's niiiiice. *mulls* ooops! soz for that lit-tle lapse. what was i on about again? right thanking people. & extra special big thanks to Chris and Mr Pixie whose presence in the Garden of Albert and later on, whose txts cheered me up muchly on the coach going home.

yo, Pix! i'm gonna ring you within the next few days so we can continue our thang on the phone cause i forgot to give you something last night (duh! i mean, rilly). right, almost forgot: this next is a public service announcement: Kate's on holiday in a coupla weeks so, keep yer trousers on and be on yer best behavior, boys, cause i'm bringing her to Brixton (not tawkin' to Chris, Pix or any of the dudes mentioned above).

OK, back to the flick but before i go, next kittehs're recreating a scene that went down in the Albert last Winter; it's what i actually told Larry Love and he actually listened to me, a totally amazing event. *preens* my satisfaction was way more than guaranteed. uh... i can haz big nerve? AFAIC, it's typical NYC behavior but over here, it's like wild; they've never seen or heard anything like the shit that spews outta my mouth (and i've got the rewards to prove it). so thank you, Larry, for everything.


and after that came outta mai wordhole he cracked up laughing, fumbled in his shirt pocket and i went flying into the loo, y'know... just to see. about ten minutes later after my eyes were back, refocussed halfway normally again, he made some crack about me falling in but by that time i was preening my ass off cause i'm about the only one in Brixton who can't wear that badge – 'Larry Love Owes Me Money' – cause in all troof he doesn't. whoa, hey, Samantha! *kiss* *waves* :-)

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Glastonbury: festies in general

yup, iz Summer again :-( and along with Summer comes all those fabaroo festivals for which thousands, if not millions of people wait impatiently all year round. and if i wuz different normal sorta kitteh, i guess i'd be like counting the days to... oh say, Glastonbury to see Alabama 3 live tomorrow! as well as MOJO, both at Left Field. as well, the Acoustics are playing saturday on the Avalon Stage or whatever. and i can imagine y'all are being all shouty with your pent-up SPOING and i'ze happy for youse and i wish i could be all spoingy and shouty too – mostly cause i'ze reely good at spoingy shouty stuff, but for a myriad of reasons i'm not.

anyway, i wanna say the biggest THANK YOU to everyone who asked me to go with them, like TY for the invites and stuff. i rilly rilly ap- appreeshee – i'ze troolee pleezd and bigly surprised to be asked and i treashures, no – i'ze amayzd ur all tryne to maek me not sad kitteh. 2 B purrfecklee honest, it getz me all tearzy, akshually, to tink PPL would go outta thair wayz 2 obli- 2 volunteer to come & getz me & stuff. *sniffle* & i don't even know some of youse, at least not in meatspace. and that's what touches me the most, touches teh deepiest deadest depths of my cold cold heart.

it's very clear that the bonding factor is the band, that people have gone beyond beyond to kinda like entice me to come with them, something that continually surprises me whenever i receive an anonymous gift in the post or whenever anyone sends me bootlegs or, in some cases, actual real live CDs of the professional sort. BTW, those which i already have are passed on to the less unfortunate Bammie fan.

what was i on about again? right, thanking people, some of whom are friends for ages in TRW and some of whom i haven't even met yet who've offered me anything from rides to room in their vans, to whatever to get me out of my reclusivity, i think they think it'll cheer me up. anyway, those whom i've already met in any way that has ANYthing to do with the Alabama 3 are the most generous, loving, non-judgmental and accepting people EVar and i truly love y'all, for permitting me to act like a moron and even egging me on for MOR..

BUT – as we all know and that which i've never made seekrit or any effort to hide, something's very very wrong within, always was and always will be. *lightbulb on* ooh, y'never know: this'll prolly go on until, i imagine, medical research perfects some kind of lobotomy type op that's totally 100% guaranteed to remove ONLY the sad and maybe a huge bit of the thinking-too-much stuff and which'll leave me with all the rest intact. as is. i'm already a drooling idiot and i won't take any chances to be even more droolly. *to self* can you imagine?

Some Friend: 'Look, SG! D Wayne's onstage! and he's going 'What's the rumpus?' and looking straight at you like on the MOR Tours and Larry's NOT doing the Forrest Gump!'

me: wha? glurghghghhllll droooolllll......... mah haid hurtz.

LOL, i can haz trepanation PLZ? nah, only playing with youse – a hole in my head is the last thing i need. anyway, back on Planet Earth – wait, 'This is a security announcement' so please bear with me: 'woop! woop! it's the sound of ADD!'

soz, i just couldn't help it. anyway, for a heart-warming (whilst stomach-churning) view of Desperation Personified which leads to trepanation and its aftereffects, go see Pi. but don't take my word for it; ask Mark cause he dug it as well. a lot. i preened whilst he said cause I turned him on to it). *still preening, actually* :-)

i had a point somewhere, lost in the wilderness. right, THANK YOU, EVERYBODY but i'm sorry, i just can't. :-(



soz for my tone but please keep in mind all the invites make me cry (in an 'I AM NOT WORTHY!' kinda way) and i refuse to display 'teary' in public so it emerges as nasty anger at least and at best, snark. anyway, have a great time, everyone. i know y'all will. :-|

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I STOLED & i'm Labelled for Life

now that i have your attention – well, in all actually, he's always got my drooling attention, which, thank fuckity fuck, he can't see or hear over the phone but y'all should see my wristrests and desk, all of which i must sponge off the droolly dribbled lines or drool drops at least twice a day, more even when he deigns to speak on phone with me. *proudtard*

um... now where was i? right, first off i STOLED. actually stole above photos from Freebase from the images he uploaded on his member. ooopsy, whoa – soz, i mean rather i stoled above pics from his member area. nah, no good. 'member profile' that's what i mean (i think, not sure at the mo'). *ripped, totally ripped*

anyway, please allow me to direct you to the newest link i added to my collection of Reservoir Dogs at lower R: thanks to Delta Slide Dude, on tuesday i joined Ultimate Guitar. WHY? c'mon! y'all know me already and y'all already know why: to STALK him, of course. here's his profile page, to which my Reservoir Dog link leads directly to the man hisself. whoa, rather, it leads to his profile. sorry sorry sorry, Mark *whispers* not really. :-)

as i already toldja dude, i'm only playing with you and you should know me and my M.O. by now – constantly in *play* mode. y'know, like a puppy or a kitten (as one Brixton chick snidely informed me a few months back). but in all truth, she was right. yes, like a liddle puppydog or a kitty, always wanting to play (kinda like Homer who never gets sick of playing 'peek-a-boo'). *rolls eyes slideways*

in all truth, i actually joined up cause i'm sick and tired of whining and crying about my goddamned depressing problems to Freebase and figured i just might learn something over there, something with which else to focus on when talking to him. though, apart from raving like a lunatic on (and singing at the end of) Klan and singing lead (and playing bass for The Hardeners years ago), musically inclined i ain't, but hey. i'm always into learning stuff but haven't yet had the time to explore Ultimate Guitar. shit, i can't even shrink my profile pic or my preferred avatar down small enough so it fits but that's another story (one i spent hours on last night before i gave up in frustration).

moving right along, if i were an ordering-around – 'Snap to it!' – kinda kitteh, i'd order youse all to join up there as well. but since i'm not, i won't. friendly warning: this is all i have regarding Freebase so, byeee, y'all. oh, apart from his new music about which i can't really say. *sigh* his new music. yes.

moving right along to my fave topic, one i know and love best of all (hint: teenytiny word: starts with 'm' and ends with 'e'), wednesday was truly fabaroo beginning the night before, when Katie appeared like a pale ghostly phantom out of nowhere, standing by her lonesome in the typical English mists outside on Bellevue. i ran down to let her in, not wanting her to brave it alone on the dangerous steps and all. *snigger* she brought her new Mac laptop and i had a ball with it, that is, when she permitted me to touch it. *scowley* yup, she's addicted already. *smiley*

wednesday was also good cause Royal Mail delivered the most recent books i ordered (one's 'Brit-Think, Ameri-Think, A TransAtlantic Survival Guide') and my new pair of Chuck Taylors. since i'm too lazy to reach over for my phone, this pic, taken almost four years back'll have to do.


anyway, after watching I Spit On Your Grave last night, we stayed in horror mode and i hipped her to one of my all-time faves: Carnival of Souls, a film my friends and i used to watch whilst tripping our brains out as little kids and the film which turned on same friends and me to dressing like the dead at protest demos against the War in 'Nam. long story, no time now. whoa, i actually suppressed a longass ADD tangent! *proud*

i ended up only getting about two hours' sleep yesterday AM (no problem since i still hate to go to bed) and we had coffee and tea and toast about 09,30, then at noon took off for the body art studio and once again, i'm like thrilled to pieces. OK, is stawree in pikchurs cause i cannae rede gud (i blame my new mixture of teh drugs, akshually). apart from the captions which belie my prior words. i can not noes wot i'm on? whoa, i meant, 'on about'? anyway, here's Eve who does me.


she and her over 60 yrs-plus friend were on their ways to Bon Jovi in Bristol tonight. when Katie and i were walking down the road after getting needled and inked, i actually found this municipal sign on Park Street, on our way to the Hatchet much later on, just made for the occasion.


LOL, when i sent above pic to Techie-boy and told him Eve and friend were off to see Bon Jovi, he shot back a mail that read 'Ugh. Shoot me now — why not put up a sign for the Monkees while they're at it?'

*snigger* but i just realised how badly i messed up – since i met her last week, i've been telling Chris how cool Eve is and now i know he'll totally hold this Bon Jovi stuff against her as well as doubt my sanity. as per usual, i should've kept my big fuckin' mouth shut. *sigh* anyway, whilst she was doing me, she made the mistake of wondering aloud why Alabama 3 weren't gonna be at Bulldog Bash this Summer. i like gave her a look (not one of my nasty ones, one of my regular 'intrigued or whatever' ones) and then began babbling.

in essence, i told her she made the mistake of wondering to the wrong person cause her words began a halfwitted, non-stop hour or so of wittering on my part, all about one of my three main obsessions. welp, now she knows (to STFU about Macs and the band). then when perusing her designs on the studio's site today (after giving up in frustration trying to do it here at home all last weekend), she learnt a lit-tle too much about my fervor for Usability as i moaned about Flash and the usual reason most artists and such put their work on sites done in Flash (so nobody can R-click and Save images) so now we've got three taboo subjects which shall never be mentioned again *snigger* (well, until the next time).

funny thing: she was inking me and the lack of sleep must've hit cause the next thing i heard was her announcement that i was asleep like a baby and snoring like a drunk whilst she was needling me. this is unheard of cause they say it's painful. dunno whether to be proudtardy or hide my obvious and unbeknownst to me masochism? decisions, decisions... i can haz Guiness Book of Wurld Rekkuds as only grrl to nap through a tat session? i totally don't wanna think about the implications. i mean, isn't Pain supposed to be, like one of the human body's warning signals or something?

bloody hell, the birdies are singing and sun's coming up already and i'm off to the American Embassy again later on for forgotten extra passport pages and i still haven't slept. but first things first. errr, yes, i already know i have priorities problems – LOL, why do you ask? anyway, here's my left shoulder now. *proud*


it's still not finished yet and neither is my right shoulder, making me Labelled for Life. *proud* as well as *proudtarded*


Eve's gonna change the font or typeface, adding fancy shit to it next wednesday. i so love them 'out', yet another dream come true cause as i've ri-moaned so many times before, i love my tats but also hated that i had to strip down in order for them to be visible (thank you NOT, NYC Board of Education, you closed-minded fuckwits). at one point, towards the end of the sleeve i hope to get, i shall have my fave – 'The Perverse Must Persevere' – somewhere indelibly on me forEVar, but haven't yet decided exactly where to have it done.

plus i got two new T-shirts today and for Brit prices, they were a tota£ bargain: 100% cotton and fit perfectly (both baby sizes) and they were only 5 quid all together.



and i got some more way cool art books at the 2nd hand shop, two of which are a biggie on Oscar Wilde and a smaller one on Frida Kahlo. then Katie and i had a long drunken lunch at the Hatchet yet again.


onto other things, i posted my skulls cig case last week and toldja why i goddit in the first place: '...i really can't stand cigarette cases ... but i heard a fucked rumor over the weekend: ... just like they're doing in Canada, all cigarette packets will trash the warnings they have on them now, to print their labels with photos of blackened lungs and such ... there's no way in hell i'm gonna go round with pictures of that shit on my butts, so it's the usual story: that cigarette case... it called to me; like it had my name written on it...'


but the reason i've repeated myself is cause i wanna show you Katie's, she who turned me onto the shop in which i found mine.


thank you time: thanks to Kate and my freelancing, i now have a semblance of a real life. this is a novel thing and i'm actually enjoying every second of it. um... well, the bits with Kate and the inherent spoing. and about the proofreading and editing, shit, in all honesty, i enjoy using the Asperger's to my advantage and actually getting paid to do so cause as they say, a good proofreader is never done and i'm a total perfectionist when it comes to that shit.

as well, thank you, Chris for sending me the Snow Leopard (can't Save and post my faves cause they're all done in Flash). thanks to Christine, Xamichee, Burrell, J Pirou, Boudicca, Bournski, Marianne, Chris M and Logical John for all their patience and the waiting this new chapter of my life has forced me to take out on y'all. but no worries dudes, you'll all soon see how i'll fuck it up but good as i usually do. and big thanks to Nomad and he knows why. :-)

almost forgot: right, thanks 'Dragnim – 'Friend-O' – for that mail the other day; i still haven't been cos there's been no time but if you're bullshitting me, there's gonna be BIG trouble. and another thankyou to Abeizer for the quite amusing and in my vivid imagination, very interesting txts. i can haz moar plz?

whoa, almost forgot: Irvine Welsh, total proponent of the Alabama 3 is signing his new book at the Borders on Queens Road, like 7 minutes away from here on the evening of 7. july and you can betcha ass i'll be there with the proverbial bells on (even though i avoid chain stores like Borders as much as i can). when i saw the sign i flew inside to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me and nope, they weren't. I CAN'T WAIT TO MEET HIM.

one of the things i intend to talk about is in the States how the dummies, the theatre owners had 'Trainspotting' dubbed over in American cause they were afraid the Scottish accents would confuzzle stoopit amerikans and turn off any audience. i still find this hilarious in an 'oh god, are we stupid as shit, or what?' kinda way. *snigger* and a self-satisfied remembrance of how i needed no such translation or anything else when i rented the film here. *smirkey snarky sneer to all Stateside dummies*

wait...i just remembered. Alabama 3 are set to tour the States in a few weeks. i foresee much gnashing of teeth and shaking my liddle fist at the skies in frustration but i totally won't think on that now. and to end on a cheery note... well, not cheery as such but what would any post of mine be without a LOL Cat?


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