Got locked out again on Wednesday. I’ve spent less time in my flat than I would’ve liked over the last month, mainly through being locked out, late nights drinking and trying to move stuff around. Absolutely shattered all the time – just want to lie down in the sun and have the grass grow over me.
In other news, I went and did karaoke last night and kinda enjoyed it. It’s the mutual back-slapping adulation I think rather than the singing itself, which I’m sure I’m awful at (though was mildly enjoyable). I’ve got no stage presence whatsoever. (Eugh. I just shut my eyes and the inside of my eyelids are like kaleidoscopes, all shifting tessellating patterns moving in time, with zooming rough rings of light. Makes me feel quite queasy, but absolutely hypnotic.) I sang The Penis Song
The place was weird though; an unsigned basement with a bar and a maze-like series of closed chambers, waited on by black-clad girls. The rooms themselves are intimate and small; there were twelve of us in one of the larger rooms, and we were squeezed into the padded seats. Terrifying to see Will Porter doing a version of Linkin Park’s big sweary song and was surprised to hear Ben Talbot singing with a fine voice (but then he comes from Wales, that land of close harmony singing and Tom Jones).
Also, chiarina knitted me a bunny! When I get my review PC back into the office, I’ll put some pictures up here. Meanwhile I’ll have to revert to the classic Cheston.