retro_geek: (Flapper legs)
Customer 1: Do you have to pay to get in tonight?
Door girl: Yes. That'll be four pounds please.
Customer 2: Wait- babe, are we sure we want to go here? It sounds like punk.
C1: Hmm. Do you want to go somewhere else?
C2: It sounds like punk.
C1: Hey, excuse me, what kind of night is it tonight?
DG: It's a Britpop night. 90s music. Pulp, Suede, Blur, that kind of thing.
C2: Not punk?
DG: If they do play any punk, then they're going majorly off-remit! But no, this is definitely a 90s britpop night. I think the DJs are generally happy to take reasonable requests, too.
C1: Ok, we'll stay here. Here's 4 pounds.
DG: Thanks. Have fun guys!

(45 minutes later)
C1: Hey, can collect our coats?
DG: Oh, leaving so soon?
C2: It wasn't what we were expecting.
DG: What were you expecting?
C2:Northern soul. Don't you guys usually have a northern soul night here on Fridays?
retro_geek: (Default)
[Poll #1804319
I've always been very self-conscious of my rather mahoosive overbite (and the occaisional speech impediments it brings with it), and I'm seriously thinking about my options to get rid of it. But, I dunno, what if I don't look like me without it? What if having straighter gnashers doesn't actuaklly make me any happier? I think it probably would though. Oh, just answer my poll thing, please (and comment too, if you like).
retro_geek: (Default)
Finally finished watching Bellevous Rendez Vous last night, which some helpful soul has uploaded on to youtube in 5 minute segments. There seems to have been a lot of critisism floating around that it was too thin on plot to be genuinely satisfying. While the plot is rather sparse, I got so swept up in the artwork and music and general wonky charm of it all, that I hadn;t really noticed, and when I did notice, I didn't really care. If anything, it was an advantage in the sense that it allowed the entire thing to unfold with next-to-no dialogue, which I found quite impressive. And I thoroughly enjoyed the ludicrous car-chase at the end. Highly reccomeneded.

One of the highlights of last week was taking [ profile] augstone to Hamleys toyshop, with the intention of buying a gift for his new-born niece. Hamleys is one of those shops that often doesn't feel much like a shop at all; more like some massive childrens'  birthday party, held in a circus, set up by over-idugent parents for whom money is no object, that has swiftly spiraled beyond control in a whirling dervish of facepaint and e-numbers, (like the first day of the sales in the Oxford Street branch of Topshop, but even more noisy and about 4 times as colourful). Indeed, before we had arrived, I was worried it wouldn't be the sensory overload I had recalled, and that I had talked it up too much and that Aug would be unimpressed. I needen't have feared; if anything it was even more of a hullabaloo. I generally don't like it when shops try to make themselves into an "experience", but I've always found the magicians, bubble machines, drummers, face painters, etc etc etc quite charming. I think Aug did too, and he seemed rather charmed by both the adorable cuddly elephant we found for the niece, and the large floor keyboard thing (where, endearingly, he proceeded to play his own hits), but I think he lost interest when I got distracted by the FurReal cats...

Despite my determined attempts otherwise, it has not failed to escape my notice that I am due to turn 23 at the start of next month. Which I know isn't that old in the grand scheme of things, but it is still the oldest I'll ever been, and thus slightly alarming. Anyone who isn't camping at Offset festival is welcome to come celebrate with me at GlamRacket at the lexington on Saturday the 4th (where I will also be doing a dj set- expcet lots of Ricki Wilde). And if any of you generous people want to help soften the blow of aging, my Amazon wishlist can be found here: . It essentially boils down to two main componants: cds of gay disco, and books about jazz-age prostitutes...
retro_geek: (Default)
When strangers approach you in public- specifically, when you are a female travelling by herself and the stranger in question is a man a lot bigger than you are- how polite do you feel compelled to be, and how long before you can reasonably tell them to bog off? Travelling to a friend's gig the other night, I boarded the tube at Totteridge&Whetstone, as did a guy, probably in his mid-to-late 30's, rather broad and hefty looking. There was no one else in the carridge apart from us, so I thought it a bit odd when out of all the availible seats, he chose the one opposite me, but I just assumed that he had a sheep mentality (I had chosen my set and sat down first), and busied myself with plugging in my ipod headphones and staring out the window. After a couple of minutes of staring at me, he asked me if I was listning to 'fm radio'. English clearly wasn't his first language, and he spoke with such a thick accent that I had to lean a bit closer and ask him to repeat himself before I understood. I was a bit surprised, but answered that, no, I was listnening to music on my ipod instead. I wasn't in the mood to chat, so I took out my phone and started texting someone, mainly to add to my "please do not disturb-am busy" vibe, since the headphones alone clearly weren't doing a good enough job. He then asks me what my hobbies were. I'm even more surprised- but, not wanting to offend him (I'm English- God forbid anyone should see me as impolite)- I say something vague about likeing live music and going to gigs. Am on my way to one right now, as it happens- I'll be going with my boyfreind (NB: Yes, I know Aug and I are not a couple. But this guy didn't have to know that). I added the boyfriend bit on the end rather pointedly, so as to make clear, again without causing offence- that I'm not on the market for anyone potentially chatting me up. He asks me if my boyfriend and I are "engaged, or just friends". At this point I give up on my phone and ipod and politely put them away, and reply that we're just dating at the moment. He goes on to tell me, in his culture, arranged marriages are common, especially when the girl is 15 or 16. Again, I make a vague, non-committal, hopefully inoffensive remark about, y'know, horses for courses, if it works for them, that's swell, but it's not for me, etc. He asks me what area I'm from, tells me he's from Ilford. I ask him what it's like. he says very multicultural. Oh, that;s good, I say. He asks if he can sit next to me. I politley ask him not to. He politely accepts my refusal. He tells me my hair looks nice. I say thank you. All this time, I'm trying to work out if he's hitting on me, or just making a very clumsy attempt at making friends, or even just killing time before he reaches his stop. He doesn't seem overly lechy, and I tried to make it as clear as I could that I'm already spoken for, but I can't help but distrust strange men who talk to me when I'm alone. On the other hand, if his intentions are completely innocent, and I brush him off, what if that knocks his confidence? What if he feels unnesacarily bad? I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Also, whenever I find myself talking to a stranger who is obviously from a different country, I often develop this very odd compulsion to be on my best behaviour, to be extra polite and helpful (though I try to be that to most strangers anyway), to give them a nice impression of British people. When the tube reaches East Finchley, some more people get on, and he stops trying to make conversation. I finally get to listen to my ipod again, though I notice he carries on staring at me. And staring. And staring, for the remainder 20 minutes of the journey. When I finally alight at Old Street, I panic for a moment that he may get off and follow me, but he doesn't. I breathe a sigh of relief, and wonder if I was being needlessly, unfairly paranoid all along. That I am too distrustful- that he may have been completely innocent all along, and he may be used to something else, and unnacustomed to our frosty British ways. Irritating (surely it's accepted fact that people listening with headphones and playing on mobile phones do not want to be disturbed?), but otherwise innocuous. Then I recall the 'Schrodinger's rapist', and wonder if I am totally within my rights to feel afraid, and maybe even tell him (politely) to bog off and leave me alone.

So, what do we think? Was he coming on to me? Should I have told him to stop talking to me? How polite does one have to be to a stranger?
retro_geek: (Default)
Am filling out a survey about different brands of bottled water (specifically; evian, Highland Spring, Volvic, and Buxton). I have just been asked which one I think is the most "avant garde".

Um, what?
retro_geek: (Killer Dyke)
Have downloaded the Mute Audio Documents compilations (mainly for 'Make Room' by Fad Gadget). As a result, have just heard 'Shout' by Depeche Mode for the first time. Why didn't anyone tell me before how good it was? Also, Silicon Teens. Very jolly. Expect to hear them at the next AFE.

Speaking of DJ-ing, the ever-fabulous Miss Paynter and I are at Super No Fiction tonight! In addition to us, there will be six (yes, SIX. That's 3 times as many as at a usual No Fict, folks) bands performing, and I suspect some of them will even be pretty good. Entry is 6 squid, or 5 with an NUS/flyer, doors are at 7.30, and it all winds down to a post-orgasmic disco halt at 1 am. Also, I appear to have some sort of yucky flu-y virus, so if you come along and kindly buy me a drink tonight, mine is a large Lemsip, please.
retro_geek: (Default)
Firstly, big thank you to all who have joined the No Fiction facebook group so far; we are VERY VERY nearly at the target now, so keep inviting friends, enemies, pets, etc: . Feel free to actually come to the club itself, too; it's pretty good, even when Alex and I aren't there.

Speaking of No Fiction, we're doing a special, extra-huge, extra-amazing SUPER NO FICTION event at Proud galleries very soon:!/event.php?eid=120876704589132&ref=ts . This is probably my (and Alex's) biggest dj gig to date, so it would mean a lot if you came along and had a boogie.

And THIS FRIDAY, there is the epic return of Are Friends Eclectic to the Cross Kings at Kings Cross:!/event.php?eid=111559548864442&ref=mf . Again, Alex and I (and various other friends of ours who are probably your friends too) will be spinning choonz. See you there.
retro_geek: (Flapper legs)
Today, with the aim of earning myself some Amazon vouchers, I filled out an incredibly long survey about gas and electricity companies. For one of the questions, they presented various names of said companies and asked if I had heard the brand mentioned positively a lot in blogs recently. Which made me wonder: do that many people really blog about energy companies? Surely it's a bit niche? If your blog is about eco-friendly matters and you want to reccomend a particularly green-sympathetic company, or if you have a bad experience with one of them and want to warn away your blog readers; these are the only examples I can think of. Is anyone here a reader of any blogs about energy companies? I'm genuinely curious.


How beautiful is this photo? . It is a lady named Loie Fuller, who apparently was a very popular dancer in the the late 19th century, and is famous for pioneering the use of coloured lighting in performance. In this picture she is performing her now oft-imitated Serpentine dance. It's a lovely piece, though to my uneducated eye, it doesn't  look very snake-like to me; the photo above looks more swan-like, with gracefully arcing wings. Or perhaps butterfly or moth, mid-flight. No?


Hot-pants update: Following my adventures with home-made tiny shorts a few weeks ago, I am now fixated with finding a high-waisted, nautical-ish pair, for when I am pretending to be a 1920's chorus girl. Ebay is surprisingly devoid of them, though the Miss Selfridge website has several variations on the theme, all for around £30. Now all I need to do is find some steady employment to fund this potential acquisition (as opposed to "working" for the flakiest free-lance market research company in London).
retro_geek: (Killer Dyke)
what makes a good song lyric?

(and how important to you are the lyrics compared to all the other parts of a song?)
retro_geek: (Naomi-Skins)
It started it, though.

Yesterday, it made me "like" (the new "being a fan of", in facebook land) O'neils pubs, without me realising. I have never looked at the O'neils fanpage on facebook, and my only connection to it seems to be that someone on friends list 'likes' it. Obviously, I don't want people thinking I actually like their pubs, so I un-liked it as soon as I realised and posted a disgruntled status update about it. Then, today, it was getting uppity about letting me ready my messages, so, at facebook's own suggestion, I took a  user-satisfaction survey about their error messages, and said I thought they were a bit rubbish. And now, in what I can only assume is bitter retaliation, facebook isn't letting me on to the site AT ALL! The bloody nerve!

So yeah; no one announce anything amazing on facebook or send me important messages on it until it grows up and apologises, please.
retro_geek: (flapper)
It's interesting how much of my social life has focused around the Archway/Finsbury park/Holloway area over recent years. First, it was Nic/Dom/Selina/Tom/Chloe/Guy/etc etc etc moving into Criterion Mews, a mere stone throw away form Archway. So we would all pile round to get drunk and get ready to go to Stay Beautiful and Rockabaret and Fori3gn (can I just say right now, how much I always HATED For3ign? Twattish, elitist, pretentious (and not in a good way), irritating, rubbish music...) and probably various other over-the-top club nights (what was that vaguely disco-ish one that Xavior ran in some digny basement room that we only went to once?). We were all young and romantic and idealistic and there were unspoken battles between alpha females and flowers and peacock feathers in every corner and it was all charming and glittery and endearingly ridiculous (though of course it didn't seem that way at the time). Then I started going out with David, who lives on the corner of Tollington way. I grew up a lot over the time we were together, though there was still a lot of drama. Again, it was a slightly ridiculous house- I would often stumble into the kitchen at bed time to get a glass of water, and find a bunch of 18 year olds, in impeccable 1960's vintage outfits, snorting 3 different kinds of drugs at once, and various older goths ambling in and out clutching bottles of Jack Daniels. I always wondered how Kitler, the prettiest grumpiest tabby I have ever met, put up with living in such a noisy environment, especially as she hated all humans (Richard excepted). I remember one night haveing the most epic kitchen party ever, being dragged to bed by David at around 8 am, with me protesting that I couldn't go to bed, as there were still songs left that I hadn't danced to that night/morning. I was very intoxicated at the time. And then his and mine relationship gradually fell disintegrated. And now, moving a bit further down on Holloway road, my current not-boyfriend is living.

I wonder why so many of the important people in my life have lived in this area? Is it something to do the rent rates? the local music scene? magnetic fields? And why do they keep moving a bit further down the hill, away from Archway station each time? Getting the 263 to the end of the route is like being thrown a live hand grenade of nostalgia. I wonder if I will end up living there myself? Probably not. Too many memories.

retro_geek: (Default)
Lovely sunny weather today, so ambled down to the Blue Cherry (local milkshake/smoothie emporium) with Emma to share a cooling drink. I happened to be wearing my Claude Cahun-inspired "I am in training. Don't kiss me" t-shirt, and the guy behind the counter (who was looking very sleep-deprived, poor dear. They're open till midnight 5 or 6 nights a week, and he seems to work by far the most hours there. And he doesn't even own the place.) charmingly asked if it was a play on "I'm working- don't pet me", which apparently some guide dogs have printed on their harnesses. I was a bit baffled, but amused none the less. Maybe I should tell people that this is what the t-shirt is referring to from now on, rather than it being a slightly pretentious reference to some gender-bending political 1920's lesbian artist.

We then trundled on to Chloe's house, where her and her charming new American friend Claire were making 6 (!) pizzas, all from scratch, to be eaten that evening. They were delicious (a choice of two sets of toppings were on offer- pesto with sundried tomato, and goats cheese and red onions), though I felt rather full by the end; like I had eaten so much of the stuff, it had filled all available room in my stomach upwards and was in danger of coming out of my eyeballs. Also, I learnt that apparently, in America,  you don't have to choose the major subject of your university course until you actually get there. I can see some potential major advantages to this, though how do they ensure there is enough places on popular courses to meet student demand? It's a very interesting idea, though.

Good quote in the Times today from an unspecified model: " I don't want to be attractive to men, I want to be attractive to gay fashion designers!"

Lastly; I know I'm a bit late with this, but have you lot seen the artwork for Kelis' new album? I don't really follow her music, but the cover is pretty wow-worthy: . There is something about it that reminds me of the promo posters for Fritz Lang's Metropolis, with the evil Robot Maria, which is obviously a Very Good Thing.
retro_geek: (Default)
I have been having some seriously loopy dreams recently. Last night, I was breaking in to police stations at midnight to put up posters advertising a surrealist play my friend was writing for the BBC (the friend in question also emerged to be 50 years older than I had previously thought them to be). A couple of nights before that, pigeons were committing suicide by flying into me at top speed, and then I had to kill the American president (which happened to be a woman) with a poison-tipped pogo stick. What ARE you trying to tell me, subconscious?

Counselling tomorrow. Am feeling increasingly disillusioned with the whole thing, even before the whole eating disorder clinic thing. I still very definately have angst, but am finding it more and more difficult to articulate it to my counsellor (and I never found it that easy in the first place, what with feelings often being remarkably abstract things). The sessions are increasingly filled with awkward silences. I don't feel quite ready to give them up all together, though I would like to gradually increase the length of time  between them. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to be an option. Ho hum.

So this entry doesn't end on a negative note, here is a link to a ridiculous dog. Special extra bonus points for the punning headline:
retro_geek: (Default)
For the first time in years (perhaps even the first time ever , as I can't remember the last time it happened), I have been turned away from a club for not having ID. I couldn't blag my way in. Not even the fact that my friend new the person running the club could get me in. I'm not sure whether I should feel pleased or not- I was looking at some photos from Friday's AFE and thinking how old I looked, so it is nice to know I could still potentially pass for a teenager. Maybe I should get myself down to the Skins auditions and pretend I'm still only actually 17, and not a ripe old 22.

Thankfully, I knew Alex Pop was on his way to the very same club that I had just been denied entry too, so I waylayed him into the nearest open pub, which happened to be a whetherspoons and got rather tipsy on vodka and coke. Classy; maybe I am still a teenager after all? Coming home drunk was quite enjoyable, considering. I always forget how being drunk is often actually rather fun, so when I do get have a few drunks, the result is often a pleasant surprise, like re-discovering an old pair of well-loved shoes at the bottom of your wardrobe, and dancing in them all over again.

I think I still am slightly tipsy, Huzzah!

I preparation for tonight's festivities, I cut up a pair of old black jeans into hotpants, teamed with a ripped t-shirt, sequinned capelet and curled hair (Kitkat cabaret girl meet 77 punk was my intended look). I have never worn proper hotpants before (or any kind of shorts for several years), so this was all very exciting, though I was slightly nervous that I would feel somewhat exposed (the days of clubbing in those butterfly-shaped nipple pasties are far behind me now, I fear). I needn't have worried, though; I soon got used to it, and it was even rather fun. Cold, but fun. I can see shorts may become a bit of an obsession; I quite fancy a pair of little blue sailor-themed ones next. And maybe a matching sailor hat too, for when I am pretending to be Kylie Minogue in 'Loveboat' mode.
retro_geek: (Default)
Things that have happened lately:

1. Growing eyebrows back. While a bit patchy, they now most definitely there.
2. Started going out again. 2 or 3 nights in a row, too! I may as well enjoy the remainder of my fleeting youth.
3. Appear to be getting involved with a boy. Well, I think the term 'man' might be more accurate. But nothing is official, we're still 'just good friends', I don't really know how I'm feeling, it could all yet amount to nothing, let's not get ahead of ourselves, move along now, nothing to see here, etc.
4.Facebook has just told me I probably have aspergers. Obviously I am v. cynical of how much a facebook application can accurately tell you, but the idea has often floated around the back of my head during my more socially awkward moments. Hmm.

I hope to expand on these points more in a longer entry tomorrow. I've realised my memory is so bad, that if it wasn't for lj, facebook, etc, I would never be able to remember anything, good or bad, so I am trying to keep this here thing updated at least semi-regularly. My life is probably alright really, I just think I'm angsty because i can rarely recall any of the fun bits. Oh dear.
retro_geek: (licky kitty)
Am currently downloading obscure late 70's space disco in preparation for tonight (I'm djing here, folks, do come!!/event.php?eid=104771919554183&ref=ts ). Gosh, is there anything more exciting than discovering (or DISCOvering, ha) amazing forgotten music for the first time, and knowing you are going to be able to share it with others and hopefully they will like it too? Well, yes, but it's definitely up there. Not even the fact I currently have a killer headache is dampening my joy all that much!
retro_geek: (Default)
Parents are supposed to be coming back from their holiday today. It's now 7.49 pm, and there is as yet no sign of them. Dear God, I hope they're alright.

EDIT! Panic over, they're waiting for a train at the airport. Phew.
retro_geek: (dino)
Have just got off the phone from a nice chat with [ profile] augstone , who is apparently suffering from a two day hangover and is considering running breifly away from London to see Suede on Wednesday (jammy sod). In contrast, when he originanally rang me earlier, I was in the bath listening to a play about 'misery lit' on Radio 4. When did all my friends become so much more rock and roll than I am? Someone bring me over a large bottle of absinthe, stat! Maybe I should make more of an effort to get back to get back into professional sadism. That was pretty rock and roll, wasn't it? Ho hum. Oh well, I'm sure I'll find myself suitibly inebriated again soon enough. In the mean time, that Radio 4 play was quite good. Not as good as the one they had the other week about the pet rabbit who could read and write, though.

New Goldfrapp album came out today. I have a sneaking feeling I'll be slightly disappointed by it, though I will get it anyway, because I love Alison, and it's nice to have the whole set of albums. Plus, even below par Goldfrapp is still pretty good. I am very baffled by the poor chart showing of the 'Rocket' single, though, as it is probably their most commercial single to date. According to , Radio 1 have only played the song once, which strikes me as very odd- surely it would slot into their playlist quite nicely? Does anyone have any theories as to why 'Rocket' is failing so miserably? And why Radio 1 aren't playing it?
retro_geek: (Default)
when silent screen vamp lady Pola Negri was signed to Paramount pictures in 1923, she was paid a weekly salary of $3000. When her public profile started to grow, this quickly rose to $10,000. A week. In 1923! That would be roughly worth $128,300 in today's cash. Good grief!

She was very pretty, though:

retro_geek: (Default)
I had a horrible dream last night, in which a boy whom I once cared very deeply about put all the messages I had ever sent to him up online for his friends to mock. When I woke up, I felt so distressed that I had to check my outbox to check I had never sent him anything that I would now regret. I haven't. But still.

Burn your love letters, darlings.

I wonder what Freud's interpretation of my dream would be?
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