Sigourney Weaver (no thanks!) and Memory Loss

Yawn, what a bummer last night turned out to be.  Upon rolling in to the festival marquee, Wally (my usually spot-on barometer of the quality of the night) trotted over.

"You working tonight?  Mmmm its going to be so gorgeous tonight, there's such beautiful piano work..." he oohed, before skipping away.  I was sceptical.  Fair enough, it looked like an okay line up- Rainy Boy Sleep (A Derry act) and John Grant.  [I did notice that once again it was an American folk singer, complete with beard and booze problems. Spot a pattern?!]

In accordance to these booze problems, John Grant had requested that the bar shut before his act.  To me this smacked dually of-

1- If I'm not drinking, no one is!
2- Diva!!  The night before, the act had also given off that people went to the bar during her set.  COME ON GUYS, it's a festival.  That really bugged me.  You're on stage! How much more attention do you need?!

Rainy Boy Sleep though, absolutely lovely.  Many of the bar staff, with our somewhat obscured view (not especially, but that was their excuse) thought initially he was a girl.  Right enough, he looks like a young enough wee pup, and his voice is on the higher side of tenor.  Who cares though- it was absolutely lovely.  He did do the now somewhat hackneyed Foy Vance-esque record, repeat, layer trick.  I'm sure that has a proper name but I don't know it. 

Definitely one of my highlights.  Rainy Boy Sleep and The Chipolatas- (a juggling group who pretneded to be from Germany....yeah I know....)

John Grant though.  Seriously.  I posted up on my Facebook profile that he was playing and got a gushing response from one of my friends, whom I accredit with good taste!!

"Just been listening to the Queen Of Denmark album. The man is goddamn genius. His band the Czars were incredible too."

Ok. So the guy had a few shitty relationships, drank a lot and struggled coming out.  Yeah, I get it, that is generally pretty solid material to make an album.  Certainly, the lyrics were...truthful?  I just felt that....How can I put this.  Wally was right, the piano was lovely.  But the shitty keyboard space effects were not.  Personally speaking, I do like a degree of distance in lyrics.  I mean, obviously I like to be able to relate, but when something sounds like it was literally chucked down on the page and recorded without a second thought...yeah not for me.  An example? 

And I feel just like Sigourney Weaver
When she had to kill those aliens
And one guy tried to get them back to the earth
And she couldn't believe her ears

I feel just like Winona Ryder
In that movie about vampires
And she couldn't get that accent right
Neither could that other guy

Christ, what?!  I dunno.  Maybe its some people's cup of tea (no, obviously it is, massive crowd in last night) but certainly not mine.  I know the bar staff are meant to stay behind on the last night of the festival to bond/unofficially drink all the kegs dry but I couldn't be arsed sitting to 4am in a windy tent.  As I said in the previous post- WHO KNEW?!

The Rest of The Weekend!!

Hmm.  Friday night I was convinced out by B.  We went round to her apartment, ate Chinese food, played Bowie, danced like fiends and DRANK.  Wine and gin.  Upon entry to Gigantic (click for a more conscious version of events) in town, we drank vodka and rum.  The rest of the night...well it basically becomes bullet point.

• Saw Stu B for a second and was delighted. [Reality- I seemed to spend quite a long time with him and spent a good amount of time stroking his hair and encouraging others to do so]
• Saw Jonny the DJs shoes. [Reality- I spoke to him much more and also encouraged him to stroke Stu's hair and told him about when I tried to seduce Stu B with a dead pigeon]
• Saw my housemate. Danced. [Reality- According to Miss B, I was offerd any number of free drinks and had (her words) men swarming round.  I really really do not remember any of this.  Quietly proud that nothing will distract me from dancing!

That's it basically.  Woke up the next day with possibly King Hawk texting me- and I literally could hardly move my head to reply.  Oh crikey it was so bad.  I couldn't move until about 1pm, at which point I knew I had to mend my bike...yeah.  I bought a puncture repair kit from Poundworld (where "Two Tribes" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood came on and I nearly boked with the stress) and when I returned, and flipped my wee bike over....well, it wasn't happening.  I rang my friend in a close-to-tears state, who laughed and said he'd fix it for me and went back to bed.

Somehow at 9pm, B persuaded me to go out again.  She was on a hunt for her dream man, a doctor at her work.  We went to the Limelight of all place, sober.  Ahh Christ.  No way.  Left and went back to Lavery's.  Had a totally awesome night, of which I remember it all.  Oh, and B met her dream guy!! He was there!!  Brilliant.  I told you, I can solve all my friend's problems.... 



Weird Women and Mystery Boy

So last night at the festival, Camille O'Sullivan was playing.  Her entry in the programme, looked really interesting, and certainly seemed hotly anticipated.  The main organiser chap, Wally, had previously told me he was most looking forward to seeing this woman - due, in no small part I suspect, to her photo involving a lot of leg and fishnet stocking.  

When I arrived, I called Wally over to ask about his excitement levels.  He arched a cynical eyebrow and muttered, "Well, the picture is certainly an extremely flattering one..." I spluttered a laugh and told him he was being a bitch.  He laughed again and said he ought to be used to it by now, publicity shots showing people as gloriously attractive, and in no way relating to reality.  He also added "She did come in like a whirlwind though.  I imagine she'd be the perfect girl to be stuck in hotel room with with several bottles of champagne and a few grammes of coke..."  Now that's a recommendation!

The bar staff arrive quite close to the doors opening as, well, its a bar in a tent, so there isn't drastic levels of things to do.  I was very surprised to see Camille was still sound checking, indeed, she continued to do so with the audience already in the enclosure and standing right outside.  It was at this stage we all started to see what she was really like-  at best you could call her a perfectionist, at worst a demanding bitch.  She kept on at one of her band members to "play quieter" insisting it wasn't the volume that was making him loud, but how hard he was playing.  Now, I know there is a degree of truth to this, but Christ, the way she went on.  

Before the performance began, a skinny ginger guy with a badly knotted tie came up to me and nervously ordered a half Guinness.  He then proceeded to tell me how he was friends with Camille on Facebook and had arranged for her to do a special shout out of some kind so he could propose to his girlfriend.  He seemed really uneasy and when I enquired why, he said he wasn't sure that she would have got the message.  As I've previously mentioned, my ex has been doing the sound at this festival, so I told him if he wrote a note I could guarantee it got backstage.  He did so (at first twitching and asking me what to write, before embarking on writing a small novel) and I trotted forward.  My ex leapt into action (though frankly I felt he was and had been ignoring me) and assured me he'd sort it out.  Lo and behold, halfway through the set , Camille dedicated a song and a wee poem to the couple, who later emerged as an engaged item.  This would be heartbreakeningly sweet, had it not been for the skinny ginger guy coming back to the bar to bitch at me- "Christ me girl's got a bake on her tonight.  She's in foul form.  I've told her to buck up as I've got a surprise for her [way to go keeping that under wraps Casanova] but like Christ alive.  She's probably on her period or something.  Swear to God, if she says no, I'll come over here and get your number."

Not quite so romantic huh?

As for Camille's performance, I found it awkward and weird, and not in a good 'kooky' way.  She seemed to be entirely full of herself as far as I could tell, without the goods to back it up.  Not my thing at all- I could imagine she might be the kind of girl who'd turn up at a party and declare she was "the mad one".  Each to their own, but when I was offered the chance to go home early, I took it.  As did about 50-60% of the staff.

On my way home, I was cycling past an area where I knew a guy I'd been texting lived.  Having lived off toast and dilute orange juice for a million years, I decided to send him a text.  To explain this- for a month around Christmas time I featured on an advert (well, several) for a popular soap opera.  Also at this time, I got accidentally texted by a guy in the city, who as we texted, we found out we lived very close toe ach other.  I still have to admit, I find it suspect that of all the UK mobile numbers you could accidentally dial, to get one in the same postcode as you is unnerving.  That said, he seemed like a nice enough chap.  He had suggested meeting up several times but I was never keen for it, but last night I just decided to do it.  I cycled round, and yeah, I was a bit nervous, but he was utterly  sweet and really nice.  I can post that I did this on this blog because if I told anyone in real life I am sure they would string me up!  We chatted and I drank a few tins of cider before alunching into a really self indulgent tirade about Al Quaeda and the media's messed up view of it....yeah.  Pure sexy!

Festival Frolics and The Man of My Dreams!

Thank CHRIST.

Went to see The Family Jams with C two days ago, restored my dwindling obsession with beards... Little did I know this would bear much fruit only one day later...

                              
Last night at the festival I saw Josh T Pearson, and whilst his music was maybe a little too low key for my personal tastes (I overheard one punter describing him as "an earnest man with a beard"), I absolutely fell in love with him.  He came over to the bar before hand and winked as he asked "You guys all boozing while you're working? I know I would be...but then again, drinking brings me out in handcuffs...."  Then later he cracked a joke about not being offered a beer, and when we all jumped to serve him, he chuckled and said he didn't drink.  I asked him to shout out to the bar, which he did, numerous times, as well as making us tip jars.  When he came back over, he leaned in to ask my name...When I told him, my heart skipped a beat when he purred "Oh, like the animal?  Well thats just perfect for you..."  Jesus wept.  Easy girl!
I offered him a drink then and mentioned that I couldn't figure out if he liked drinking or didn't.  To this he grinned and said "Yeah, thats the problem, I like drinking too much."  To which, in my infinite sensitivity, spluttered "Oh right, so shit, you really are an alcoholic then?"   In my defense, I then tried to rescue this awful verbal faux-pas by giving him a look of knowing cheekiness, like saying shit like that was just the usual for me....(it is, but its not like I do it on purpose, you know?!)

 An absolute gem, and hairy as hell, hahaha.

Also playing were the Drive-By Truckers, who were really much more lively and I guess, well received.Thank God, I was given more shifts at work....That said, the ex who also works there is being a prize chump, and keeps sending me mega watt inappropriate photos.  I think he is finally pissed at me cause I told him in no uncertain terms (well, for the THOUSANDTH time) that he's being a shit to his girlfriend.  What is with that?  I know he has no intention on leaving her, just seems content to fuck around on her.  What a wanker.  Glad I got out of that one when I did!

Anyway.  Off I go to try and apply for lots of shit jobs.  Wish me luck!!