Thursday, January 22, 2004
Stepping Out Of The Bubble
Tomorrow (which may well be today) I shall play football with the modern languages staff. Having run to catch the train tonight, and having played football against *gasp* strangers last night, I am exhausted. Even though I probably ran less than I usually do (which is not a great deal of running in the first place, it must be said – it worked for Cantona, it can work for me) the physical exertion was greater. Not sure why. I had a ‘mare in front of goal; set up four or five with some sweet passing, delicate through-balls, but couldn’t hit the target myself for toffee, despite nearly taking the keeper’s head off at one point when the traction engine that is my right foot actually fired properly.
It heartens me to see Olly and James both posting to their blogs (look left and down people, see the links), reassures me that they’re both alive. I’m so bad at keeping in touch. But anyone who knows me knows that. Guys, when you’re finished doing what you’re doing, come and live in Exeter. We’ll get a house, we’ll have jobs, we’ll talk shit and watch tiny Asian kids throw fireworks at strange gypsy men (maybe not), it’ll be just like old times. Maybe not. But come and visit / live. Definitely.
Cozen – I am not that vast.
Sam says his blog gets 700 hits a day; I wonder how many I’m getting. If you read, just pop me an email to say ‘hi’ – auspiciousfish@yahoo.co.uk - there needn’t be any other words. It must be six months since I last asked. The chap at the Moleskinerie said he was in awe of my audience, that Auspicious Fish was lighting up his blog (which is, I say again, great), and it occurred to me that I have no idea how many hits I get here. I know how many Stylus gets (lots more than it used to, lots and lots more…) but… who the fuck wants to read this? Eh?
I’m glad I never did drink coffee. The smell did nought for me, and the two times I tried it the taste was just eurgh. But then again I never smoked, never touched pills or powders, haven’t touched weed since five months after the turn of the millennium and probably never will again, Class C or not. And I know I have a reputation for being a soak (Dom Passantino starting an MSN conversation just now = “Are you sober? Can I ask you a question?” – hit me up on MSN via nick@beatbay.co.uk, or AIM [strictly out of work hours] at NickJSouthall, or via SLSK and the name of this blog [no spaces]) but I haven’t had a drink since a lone pint of Guinness on Saturday night, and this is not just down to having bought a widescreen TV and an iPod this month on my credit card and feeling stupid about it (incidentally, my credit limit across the two cards I have is now standing at more than a couple of grand, Olly – they love it if you use it lots and then pay it off in BIG CHUNKS so don’t ever ever ever ever fucking do that [that being USE THEM]; road to ruin, obviously). But yeah, coffee aside, the world isn’t a bad place, and I’m not sure it ever really was, not here, not for me. And I may have just applied for a job in London, but if I go there then here will be there and me will still be me.
Talking to John Sealey and Bridget yesterday about the imminent arrival of the iPod, and John elicited panic in himself lest his PC should ever totally crash, lest the music ever all be wiped out (he’s a DJ so obviously vinyl is his preferred medium, but he’s a fan of digital too). It’d be all too easy to lose your PC’s hard disk, to drop your iPod and see it disintegrate on frozen ground. But it would be near-as-damnit as easy to have your record collection nicked or burnt to cinders or soaked in vagrant’s piss or scratched to shit by spurned lovers or lost in transit (Lost In Translation being a film I very much enjoyed on Monday night) when moving or whatever. I like to think that were any of these things to befall me I’d say “fuck it” and take up fishing, buy 12 CDs a year, start writing about trout coursing instead, and be done with the whole kit and kaboodle and nonsense of this music fan lark. It’s just what I do now, it’s not me. You couldn’t replace them all; and if you could, what would be the point? Why go back? Why not use it as an excuse to do summat else? Says the man who has a database of his record collection… Just in case. I’d need to get money for bait and tackle from somewhere.
But yeah, no more coffee. Good man. It’s nice to be awake.
NJS
1/22/2004 12:02:00 am
|
|
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home