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Odds and ends.
Oct. 16th, 2006 12:01 amThe IMF say that flat taxes haven't worked, according to The Absurder. No surprises there, then.
Wednesday night was the pub. The Hoose, in fact, again, where there was Addlestone's and odd conversation. Thursday afternoon was spent loitering in the Malt Shovel with Donnla, which was very fine. It's been too long. The evening I spent Chez Saunderses, but not pub afterwards as I didn't really know where people were going.
Friday evening was in the Monkey for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
funkyplaid's departure, with Lara, Seth, Sandy, Martin, BlAlex, Marianne, RLex and two or three others. The place was full of teenage fops, one of whon stood on my hair, but it was still a fine evening. Yesterday I missed the book launch and had a quiet night in, again due to not having a clue where people had decided to go. I think I will just kick off queries about this week . . . OK, that's done. Of course, if I'd been organised about the book launch I'd have found out where they'd be.
Today I had tea and biscuits with my folks and then chucked some crap from the garden before Mark and Lauren came round, and there were silly discussions about names of clubs (Tormenting Boris raised a few cheap laughs), a touch of Patti Smith, and then it was Saunderses again. While bundling up cuttings I had a chat with my neighbour Gordon about how long a summer it had been, and how it shouldn't be necessary to be cutting stuff back in October. It's been the longest and warmest British summer on record, apparently, and that means since sixteensomething. There was this article in the paper today, claiming that an economic report will conclude that the damage from global warming is well worth making the effort to prevent, even partially. This made me wonder what happened to Bjørn Lomborg. I haven't heard much about him for a while - or, indeed, much about or from anyone on that side of (what for want of a better word I'll call) the debate.
Today's contribution to the regular "Goths-in-the-Guardian" feature concerns their actual music coverage, for a change - the monthly music supplement has Bauhaus (with Pete apparently dangling from the ceiling) heading their top ten horror acts, with the Cramps and Alien Sex Field also featuring highly. Meanwhile, guest editor Jarvis talks to six friends, including, intriguingly, M2OH as well as Sir Nicholas of Caveshire - . . . to be appropriated by the advertising industry . . . I think that's fucked. I wouldn't allow my music to be used that way. There's a song called Red Right Hand, and a sanitary napkin company back in New Zealand wanted to use it, which was tempting . . . but that was the closest I've ever come.
Slightly later - Nick Cave [quietly, to Beth Orton] - Who are "Busted?"
There's also a small piece about Depeche mode's fandom behind the erstwhile Iron Curtain, an interview with Lee Hazlewood, and Bill Drummond on why he won't - and why we shouldn't - listen to music on the 21st of November.
Wednesday night was the pub. The Hoose, in fact, again, where there was Addlestone's and odd conversation. Thursday afternoon was spent loitering in the Malt Shovel with Donnla, which was very fine. It's been too long. The evening I spent Chez Saunderses, but not pub afterwards as I didn't really know where people were going.
Friday evening was in the Monkey for
funkyplaid's departure, with Lara, Seth, Sandy, Martin, BlAlex, Marianne, RLex and two or three others. The place was full of teenage fops, one of whon stood on my hair, but it was still a fine evening. Yesterday I missed the book launch and had a quiet night in, again due to not having a clue where people had decided to go. I think I will just kick off queries about this week . . . OK, that's done. Of course, if I'd been organised about the book launch I'd have found out where they'd be.Today I had tea and biscuits with my folks and then chucked some crap from the garden before Mark and Lauren came round, and there were silly discussions about names of clubs (Tormenting Boris raised a few cheap laughs), a touch of Patti Smith, and then it was Saunderses again. While bundling up cuttings I had a chat with my neighbour Gordon about how long a summer it had been, and how it shouldn't be necessary to be cutting stuff back in October. It's been the longest and warmest British summer on record, apparently, and that means since sixteensomething. There was this article in the paper today, claiming that an economic report will conclude that the damage from global warming is well worth making the effort to prevent, even partially. This made me wonder what happened to Bjørn Lomborg. I haven't heard much about him for a while - or, indeed, much about or from anyone on that side of (what for want of a better word I'll call) the debate.
Today's contribution to the regular "Goths-in-the-Guardian" feature concerns their actual music coverage, for a change - the monthly music supplement has Bauhaus (with Pete apparently dangling from the ceiling) heading their top ten horror acts, with the Cramps and Alien Sex Field also featuring highly. Meanwhile, guest editor Jarvis talks to six friends, including, intriguingly, M2OH as well as Sir Nicholas of Caveshire - . . . to be appropriated by the advertising industry . . . I think that's fucked. I wouldn't allow my music to be used that way. There's a song called Red Right Hand, and a sanitary napkin company back in New Zealand wanted to use it, which was tempting . . . but that was the closest I've ever come.
Slightly later - Nick Cave [quietly, to Beth Orton] - Who are "Busted?"
There's also a small piece about Depeche mode's fandom behind the erstwhile Iron Curtain, an interview with Lee Hazlewood, and Bill Drummond on why he won't - and why we shouldn't - listen to music on the 21st of November.
