newest older email

2001-10-25 - 4:26 p.m.

�Everybody's talking 'bout the stormy weather And what's a man do to but work out whether it's true? Looking for a man with a focus and a temper Who can open up a map and see between one and two Time to get it Before you let it Get to you

Ack.

To borrow a quote, my head feels like there�s a Frenchman living it.

Why do I feel, standing alone in a room where I don�t know anybody, the need to drink at speeds approaching those only known by, say, by military jet pilots? Ah! Here I am with no-one to talk to! Why don�t I start downing pints like a diabetic baboon, because that�s a sure way of looking suave and urbane and encouraging people to approach me! Four pints and 45 minutes later, and El Director grabs my elbow and tells me it�s time to �talk turkey�. This involves him yanking me round the room and propelling me towards groups of random strangers, with the words, and I tell no fib of a lie, �This is Pablo, the hottest new young writer in London.� I�m virtually spewing my Guinness over the assembled group, since only the �writer� and �London� bits are anywhere approaching believable. Then there�s an air of expectation as these poor misguided fools wait for me to hold forth with some amazing oratory full of insight and wit. Unfortunately, that 5% alcohol is earning its scout badges and clouding coherent thought of any kind, let alone any Wildean epithets and I manage, �Er, ouhrfwoafhahgs� before being whisked away for a repeat performance with the next gaggle of lucky punters.

�Now I come near you And it's not clear why you fade away Looking for a ride to your secret location Where the kids are setting up a free-speed nation�

More Guinness.

Buckets of red wine.

A gin and tonic at some point just for variety.

3am, chasing the conversation round the table, the last of the merlot dripping from our chins.

Um.

I have to get this checked out at some point today, but I think I�ve got a commission to adapt a novel for a play to be staged in February.

For no money, obviously, but, and I�ve said this before, dog my fucking cats.

�It better work out I hope it works out my way 'Cause it's getting kind of quiet in my city's head Takes a teen age riot to get me out of bed right now�

Today�s gen x slacker guitar gods

Back
hosted by DiaryLand.com