Saturday, 28 March 2009

Saturday 28 March 2009

Dream: I find myself at some kind of music function representing Gringo Records. This means unfortunately I have to communicate with Matt (my Don Revie). There is an Asian (Middle East) girl there that I really fancy and I have to pretend that I am still active and currently involved in the label. Amusement at my expense ensues. The girl has a boyfriend and is almost ten years younger than me so why am I bothering? Possibly it is because everyone else fancies her too but I feel I can get somewhere with her, which would really get up their backs (being money and all). Elsewhere in the dream I read a piece of writing which completely rips off my style. This is the work of the egoist guitar player that imitates everybody.

When I wake up it is 7.35 but I fear it is later. Last night I did nothing and achieved nothing which only serves to make me feel bad on this morn.

I check my phone to discover a text from Nina last night at 23.41 with the message “hey.” Must have been a dull one.

With boring regularity I do the Asda run even annoying myself in the predictable manner with which my life is now running. As my belly rumbles another time however, the promise of a building full of food tickles its fancy.

Inside Asda for the Nth week running I see the goalkeeper from one of the teams we used to play on Wednesdays when I worked at Butt Road. His nickname was “The Crab” for the way he would move across his goal when guarding. My nickname was “The Cat” given to me by an ex-Ipswich Town youth player (reject) for the way I would stick my hands/arms out when protecting my goal. That guy was a legend (although Bobby Robson didn’t think so apparently).

Today I am blighted with a headache that prevents me from being productive and really angers me. This is probably God punishing me for my opinions of yesterday.

As a result of my migraine very little occurs today. I manage to scrape some writing at various intervals but each time I only end up coming away from it with my head pounding. In a particularly successful bout/period however I write some really great stuff about the last works Christmas party I attended (for Gestures). The memories of that night flow back and are fantastic.

When the post arrives it contains the new(ish) live Butthole Surfers CD from the Forum gig last year. There is no tracklist on this? What gives? Also unfortunately with the post comes another reminder from my accountancy professional body chasing me up on evidence for my CPD (continued professional development). I fucking knew this would arrive today.

I spend a lot of the day with my eyes glued to BBC24 looking for news on the protest march occurring in London today. The predicted 40,000 people turn into an estimated 15,000 people. I wonder if the boss’s son is there. I remember when he attended a 100,000 Stop The War march a couple of years ago and ended up boasting how a quarter of a million people had actually been there. It was probably a good thing when they arrested him.

This afternoon Millwall play at Crewe. During the week Crewe did Millwall a great favour by taking points off MK Dons holding them to a 2-2 draw. As a number of results go Millwall’s way today as many top of the table clashes occur, Crewe hold Millwall 0-0. As the results begin to flood in Millwall’s is lagging behind the rest of the division due to some apparent late kick off. Against the grain this season Millwall have been scoring last minute/injury time goals and today I acknowledge this mere minutes before Jason Price pops up and scores on his debut. As the score comes in I literally scream in my flat potentially causing embarrassment with my neighbours. This is the kind of fortune you get in a promotion season.

Being an international weekend all eyes are really on England. Ironically all eyes are not on Setanta, the shitty fucking channel that has half stolen England’s games now. To make things doubly worse they have also stolen the Scotland v Holland fixture this evening also. When will this channel die? As a result of this I find myself listening to the commentary on Radio 5. It has been literally years since I have done this and just as the England game kicks of Alan Green lets off some pure venom about the new England kit, the etiquette between national anthems and television holding up the kick off. After enduring so many months of the fake smiles of Sky’s football coverage the bile is genuinely/truly refreshing.

Back to Sky and Sky Sports News I catch an interview with Kevin Moran ahead of the Republic Of Ireland’s match with Bulgaria and suddenly I notice his distinct resemblance to the old promoter in Colchester that we at Gringo Records used to have trouble with occasionally. Moving on he now does one of the biggest new festivals while all involved at our end still languish – go figure.

My day/night ends with retreat home and an inability to accomplish anything else today. Instead I settle down to watch Brokeback Mountain on Channel Four. I have never seen this movie but I get the impression that it rips off Vito’s story from The Sopranos with less tragedy and tragic results. It is an arse achingly slow film that reminds me of an even more comatose version of Old Joy. I have to say when they first bum it comes out of the blue to me; I really did not see it/that coming. Admission has to be made that I do titter and beyond the scene I don’t last much longer before falling asleep out of boredom and disgust towards the peeping eyes and attitude of Randy Quaid playing a character far removed from the lovable Cousin Eddie.

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