When In Roam: July 2006

captain canada aka whiteboy returns

this update is brought to you courtesy of Lost. i pay for internet hours down the street with pirated copies of the unparalleled series (dont let me start)..

ive succumbed to the black crack addiction, yes buying vinyl again (how essential of a purchase, as yet to be determined) - which leads me to my point,
these south africans at work (only pretty boys needs apply.. let me take you to a gay bar!), ive found, only eat when they work. as in, we get a meal every day, and you get half off another meal. so they dont spend money on food, cooking etc. if hermann doesn't work, he doesn't eat. when i asked what that was all aboat, i was thrown a concept that isn't uncommon, except for in practice:

~take only what you need~

we all have the urge to ingest things 3x (6x to speed up your metabolism?) a day, but aside from all that health literature junk, do we really need to? i asked if that was a common practice among south africans (not really) but then when was the last time you saw an obese afrikaan?

our (north) american culture preaches consumerism to the nth degree, reflected perfectly in the idiotic extravagance of south kensington/knightsbridge (where 3 ferraris parked in one block doesn't raise an eyebrow). im not sure where im going with this - don't expect me to give away all my earthly posessions, its just food for thought. dont get bloated now¬

asdfhnfg

if only we had video of corfu town. in any case..
one handed riding is difficult

fleeting...like a Dandillion in the Wind

Last night in the middle of typical Hoxton madness, I found myself in a street intersection alone. I was mistaken though, suddenly appearing in front of me was my high school best friend, the first girl I ever fell in love with (aside from Kelly Kapowski) and now globally famous underground grunge rock star. I said her name once, with a question mark, since this mistaken identity crap happens all the time to me - no response. So I looked, looked again, nudged her in the side, then she turned to face me and I looked directly into 1998.

I only recall one other encounter in my life, in which that moment consumed yet epitomized every fibre of my existing self.

Having not been in contact the last five years, and with me being relatively blottoed, and with the awkwardly grotesque (think Jack Skellington of Nightmare Before Christmas) but musically successful boyfriend lurking in the background, I delicately (like a sledgehammer) excused myself from her invitation to join them.

Then I saw Luke Vibert DJ, met a bunch of girls and a jacked brotha who wants to party when he gets back from Moscow, did a free rail off my guitar, phoned my partially deaf grandfather, and lost my house key.

pics http://s65.photobucket.com/albums/h232/pizzat2003/LondonNew/

Goran at the Canadian dive (Covent Garden..thought I lost it, but followed my nose)

Elena, Mike and ? at Fire (Vauxhall)

Mother Bar on Old Street (Hoxton)

The Victoria & Albert Museum (South Kensington)

(I can't look at this picture without thinking of Chappelle's "Pepe le Pew" bit)

The Natural History Museum (South Kensington)

Lost... and Found

Guess what I found in my jeans pocket, from Corfu, so its gone through the wash several times but miraculously still works. I'm moving into one of the smaller rooms in the flat today to save some cash, celebrated the transaction with the roomies over 3+ bottles of wine and promptly phoned 87 people back home. Other than that Goran's here on Saturday for a cuppa joe, and I'm killing the local run (brothas watch too much AND1, got no J, no D). Might do the museums today, its raining for once.. Anyone else catch the Deutschland-Italia classic last night?

That bridge in Athens I was talking about