Saturday, 11 January 2014

I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight


Yes, Comrades

Update: Have heard Superstition three times on the radio since writing that yesterday. Also, if anyone, via song or otherwise, tells me to 'play that funky music' again, murder will be done in that room.

So we ended up at the Miracle Mile with X in tow. We were originally supposed to go to Carrow's but for reasons I didn't quite get told to me because they're awful, we didn't. A corned beef and salami sandwich though, need I repeat it?

I'd like to say this also. I have given a name to my pain and it's called static electricity. Every step I take, every move I make, every bond I break, every smile I fake, things are shocking me. As pathetic as it sounds, when it's happening to you about twenty times a day, you really want to kick a kitten. Hard. Until it's bleeding. From its eyes. Over and over. It's gotten to the stage where I'm walking around coated in foam, just in case.

We made a stop at the guitar tree after this. It's a guitar shop with guitars hanging from a tree. Smart. We made another stop at the Library of Phoenix. I'm talking huge now, you could almost fit all of the women Jack Nicholson has fucked in there. Almost.

Nancy and I flew solo to Revolver Records. They've got bands named after body parts you haven't been touched in, and likely wouldn't want to. Why do that though? I'll revisit this subject tomorrow. I left with pretty much the best magazine going, Uncut. Sounds like I missed a good few stellar albums last year. I also missed the news: new Elbow album this April. It isn't all dark in Dread world after all.

Zoo lights was on at the Phoenix zoo, so myself, the Nancester, Shebazoid and Tree (not the most versatile name innit) went. Giant neon trees, a real zebra, a camel to ride, slides, an endangered species carousel, a very observant falcon and a lot of rainbow animals were just some of the jollies available to us here. Oh, and a zip line that wouldn't cover the middle section of Scunthorpe was there too. It's a shit joke, I'm tired, fuck you.

Ace Ventura was on at #3, which even the most depressed individual must enjoy, even a bit. I enjoyed it less than before though, because now I know who Sean Young is, and she wasn't in my favourite role of hers. She calls Jim Carrey a pet dick and all I can think is "Holy fuck Rachel, I'll make you dream of electric sheep. Get over here and I'll be your naughty spacehopper".


A plush toy of the famously soft and cuddly scorpion

"A couple of drunken nights rolling on the floor is just the kind of mess I'm looking for"

In a bit.

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