Friday 15 January 2010
Dream: I am in the
food court of an airport lounge. As I
walk through the busy area I spot the four guys I originally did Gringo Records with back in the
day. They are huddled together around a
table where they talking between themselves.
Happily I sit down with them but to some extent I feel frozen out. In comparison I appear to be something of
differently developed person to those guys, happier and dare I suggest more
adult and professional.
When I awaken outside
the snow has all but gone now. It is
however still chilled with it but in theory it should be easier to drive now.
In the end my daily
commute turns out to be a lacklustre journey devoid of anything interesting to
note. I think with these mornings being
so dark I just try to keep my head down and snag some sleep.
Once I get to Liverpool
Street as I board my tube across town again I spot the Bellalike. Her expression makes her look like a mute
person.
Today I get into work
bamboozled. Off the back of yesterday I
no longer really know what I am supposed to be working on at this time. Are the November accounts for the new
company now been put to bed? Can I get
started on the December ones before it gets too far into the month?
As I step into the
office the angry boss and the posh boss are in the middle of what seems to be a
very heated discussion. It is
uncomfortable and unnerving; with this even I begin to question the future of
the company again.
In the end I find
myself once more scrapping around and changing the management packs, dotting Is
and crossing Ts doing a thorough review of the accounts and controls, being
afforded the time to do so in a bigger degree than usual.
I had originally
expected to arrive into work to an email from the consultant but surprisingly
(and thankfully) it isn’t to be. Now I
am feeling suspicious and paranoid as to why he has not got in touch. Does to this now mean he is about to make
another surprise appearance?
Elsewhere when the
dust settles my boss begins badgering me for VAT figures but I can only produce
these I can roll November and begin work on December, something I suspect the
consultant is not keen to do as supposedly he is sending some journal
adjustments over to me.
Soon it is lunchtime
and with it I go for burger and chips in cavalier fashion.
In the afternoon Mark
gets in touch for the first time this year asking if I am going to see HENRY ROLLINS tonight. As ever with him it appears that he has
stepped into a spare ticket and some pseudo date with a lady. He doesn’t sound very grateful for the
opportunity. I respond in the
affirmative though and we hatch vague arrangements to meet up at the Southbank allow the meeting time
of 7PM still leaves me with two hours to kill beforehand.
At 3PM the boss comes
in to review the VAT with me. In scary
fashion he proceeds to make some startling and terrifying adjustments in order
to paint a prettier picture. This is
the game is what is known as “window dressing.” Still he is happy and you know a happy boss makes for a happy job
(generally).
Thankfully 5PM soon
comes around. As I leave the building
the IT Guy grabs me in the hope that I’ll be able to help him with company
accounts next week. We have a problem
in so far that the dubious adjustments that I suggested last year as a gesture to paper
up the cracks were not reversed in this period so now the issues (and
shortfall) have doubled up. I don’t
know what to suggest to this guy.
Tonight I head
straight for Oxford Street
with view to getting Justin a
birthday present or two. As I exit Bond Street
tube station I pass Danny
Baker walking in the opposite direction obviously on his way home. I always come close to bursting whenever I
see my heroes. This is a good omen for
tonight and indeed the weekend ahead.
I hit Oxford Street
with determination. I have decided to
get Justin Entourage season 1 on DVD,
which subsequently is shockingly out of stock in the Bond Street HMV. Undaunted however I plod on to the big HMV
on Oxford Street where I find it.
Additionally I also buy him the Danny
Baker football DVD which feels a mere snip at £6, especially considering
that I paid £14 for it just before Christmas.
My streak of success
continues as I manage to change dates for my Brian Gittins ticket at the Soho Theatre next month. This means now I will be able to see Billy Childish at the ICA.
Invariably I wind up
in Fopp where
bargains now feel light on the ground as it begins to resemble an HMV sale more
than ever.
Eventually I get to Waterloo and
onto the Southbank. As ever there is a real buzz attached to
proceedings and surroundings and these days this is my favourite place to be in
London. If I could spend every Friday night doing
something here I would not be unhappy.
While waiting in the
foyer of the Royal
Festival Hall a crowd gathers while a band plays in the centre of it. I don’t recognise the band and to be honest
I don’t necessarily want to. As I hang
around I notice the Australian dancer manager at one of our site, recognising
him from the bowling
night when he was trying to hit on The Girl. I’m not quite sure who ignores who on this night, perhaps it was
mutual. Personally I found the guy to
be a slime though while he probably found me to be an immature prick.
When Mark finally
turns up it is almost stage time. We
grab a quick drink before he begins to start stressing over the fact that his
“date” (or rather pseudo-date) has not turned up and she has the tickets. He seems horribly blasé about it all,
dismissive from the start. I can’t help
but find this all disheartening. Bloody
hell, just what I would do in order to meet a lady that invited me to see HENRY ROLLINS. Some people have it too easy.
My friend is still
waiting as I head off into the Royal Festival Hall to take my seat. As I sit down next to me is an awkward
looking lad and while he doesn’t look like me he definitely reminds me of
myself when I was his age and I came up to London on my own for the first time
to check HENRY ROLLINS out back on 5
January 1996. I cannot believe that is
14 years ago now.
Tonight HENRY ROLLINS still cuts
the mustard to the Nth degree. His
performance literally howls with enthusiasm and positivity as his stories take
the shape of some kind of indie rock travelogue, almost like a punk Bill Bryson. Within his messages comes one of the few
liberal voices that isn’t cheesy, that has some kind of vitality behind it and
serves to inspire and push a person forward.
There are no complaints, just more illumination as it all serves to be
life affirming stuff.
As ever he is gracious
in his delivery, thankful for an audience so open to his delivery and
respectful of his words. This feels
like routine now as ROLLINS states how excited he has been about doing this
date and how there is such prestige attached to this show. Tomorrow night he will be in Manchester
like me (“which is a tough town”) but tonight he is playing the centre of the
universe.
With the ball rolling
he enters into a story how he was invited to do a college graduation speech,
doing so in his trademark ferocious manner.
As a person that has been quite vehement in his criticism of college
students in the past it sounds as if he delivered it in strident force,
delicately picking away at what the might become and trying to steer them into
what they should become, trying to mould the youth (the future) in his own way. Basically in another words he shouted at
them with eloquence. Suitably impressed
by the whirlwind he talks of how the scholars suddenly change their opinion of
him, zero in with a sense of appreciation previously missing. Here, much as with life, it would seem is a
person raging with passion being used and directed in a positive manner.
It suddenly seems that
we are catching/viewing ROLLINS in a good place at this time. His stories scream of more positivity than
ever as his adventure rages, taking in more parts of the globe than ever
before.
He also unsurprisingly
is pretty proud as punch that Obama is now steering the good ship America. Originally coming from Washington DC this
helps him launch into a story of spending the historical night in his hometown
with Ian Mackaye and
family, indulging in the monumental celebration that came with. This then in turn develops into an anecdote
of he and Mackaye then going down to the legendary 9.30
Club to check out Bad Brains where
it would seem H.R. is now
batshit crazy. As ever thankfully his
punk/music roots are not far from his stories.
From here his
travelogue takes him all over Asia including the site of the Bhopal disaster where
he offers up some kind of mission impossible adventure of him climbing over
walls, diving past armed guards just to get a view of a covered up disaster
scene.
Towards the end
ROLLINS reveals that he now has a girlfriend.
It feels like a bombshell. For
years this guy has been everyone’s single friend, a beacon of not needing a
significant other and now with this announcement it feels as if he has sold us
out (of course hasn’t). With this you
now fear the angriest old man is about to mellow.
He sounds optimistic
for the future now in way that would not have been/thought conceivable when I
first saw him 14 years ago. Quite frankly
it terrifies me these days to think that I am now older than he was when he did
his infamous Reading 92 set.
The night ends in
striding and positive fashion which garners standing ovations from many
sections as our fiery pep talk for the evening comes to a close and we now have
new commands to take with us out onto the streets. In ROLLINS we have a lefty hero with thrust in a way that is not
cheesy. A rare feat. Personally I come away feeling invigorated
from genuinely life affirming material.
As I leave I catch up
with my friend and meet his lady friend who appears to be really cool and very
pretty. She heads off to the toilet as
we discuss plans from here onwards. During
our brief chat my friend just will not say that he enjoyed the show it seems. For me this cheapens the evening, quickly
brings me down from what was such an enthusiastic climax. I can’t help but resent my friend for such
negativity, like Black Flag
rise above and not sink to the level of others.
Swiftly, with the girl
still with her knickers around her ankles, I head back to Waterloo and over to
Liverpool Street via London Bridge
and Moorgate. Somehow I manage to hop aboard a train not
full of rowdy pissheads. Such things
are always a bonus on a Friday night.
Eventually I get back
to my flat still feeling slightly
down, other people ruin everything.
On TV tonight
there is a choice of three movies of which I fall asleep into Judge Dredd. Ordinarily this would be gross misconduct
but tonight I spot the Ian Dury
cameo and I find myself drawn in.
Topical.
With an early start
threatened for tomorrow I get to sleep ASAP.
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