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Tuesday 7 January 2003
This is my sixth and final term of having lectures at UKC. In the previous five terms:
This term, not only am I suffering from a leg injury (where it came from I don't know, but it makes going upstairs really painful), but it has snowed so heavily that Bryn couldn't get a train back to Sittingbourne this morning, so he went back to mine, where he'd stayed the night before. This was nice; what is not so nice that all the frozen slush is impossible to walk on without slipping, which is causing my sore leg extreme agony! The worst of it is, yesterday, Ibid, who is visiting for a week before returning to Finland, gave me two wonderful hats. I am not a hat person, for the sole reason that no hats ever suit me. But both of these do! One was a Russian military hat (actually from Russia - if only a tourist edition) covered in Communist badges. So I wore it to the Beercart Arms last night. The other was a beret, which I am wearing today, and so I needed to dress to complete the arty!Zed look. Black blouse, black skirt that comes to just below the knees, and red and black narrow striped tights. Unfortunately, tempted though I was, there was no way on earth I could wear New Rock boots if I valued my life, for they have no sideways grip whatsoever. So instead I had to wear my olde blue trainers. Apart from lacking the height I like so much, they very much spoil the effect. Mimph! (And, because I am used to wearing shoes of at least twelve inches high, and splashing happily through puddles, I forgot that trainers lack this property, and got snow in them.) And, of course, I have a lecture in Darwin Tower Room, which, as you can probably guess from the name, is up more flights of stairs than anywhere else in the university. Thursday 9 January 2003 Last night I dragged Ibid down to the the Beercart Arms. (Actually, to say she dragged me would be closer to the truth, because owwww, leeeeg! Every day, when I wake up in the morning, it feels fine, but as soon as I go out in the cold, it begins to grow worse and worse, to a point where I can barely get into bed at end of the day. So, naturally, I wanted to get a taxi, but we were with Klair, Charlie and Bethany, and there were no taxis big enough for the five of us, so to conserve funds, we had to walk.) The reason? Six Stage Suicide were playing and I reviewed there demo CD for the radio station about a year ago and it was mint! Also, Zak had told me of the violent insanity of their live performances. Even travelling at 0.2 inches per hour, we arrived about an hour too early. Luckily, in this time, we were granted some entertainment in the form of The Worst Songs Ever played over the sound system (Macarena! Eek!), everything from "Back For Good" to "Do the shake 'n' vac" played on the guitar, and one of the Scary Old Blokes Who Are Always There singing. Also, we had lots of fun with the band's gaffa tape. We ran to the bogs when "Hit Me Baby One More Time" came on, but luckily after that they actually started. I wasn't that impressed, apart from by their high speed cover version of "Killin' In The Name Of". They sounded like and evoked the reaction only of the typical unsigned metal band, although I bought their EP since it was only £1.50, and two badges, since they were only 25p each and badges rule. However, Ibid loved them. She bought their live CD half way through the performance, and declared that she would rush out and buy the album the instant it was released. The bands in Finland must be desperately bad . . . By the end, my leg was crippling me, but we got a taxi home, and despite the driver taking us a totally stupid way, it was cheaper than usual.
Sunday 12 January 2003 BLAAAAAARG!!!!! Fright Night @ The Beercart Arms is not happening tomorrow. Woe! My week shall just not be the same without it! Apparently there's a 60s, 70s and 80s night happening in Rutherford Bar, but Rutherford Bar isn't the most wondrous of locations for such an event, so I fear it will be pants. Sighzeeb. However! Four Hours Of Power, the rock society's first ever classic rock night, was, after a fashion, wondrous! Not very many people came, so if the foolfaced security guards had turned up, we'd have made a loss (it costs us £105 to hire two), but those who did come appeared to enyoj themselves, for the final hour, at any rate. I was initially v. stressed about it. The rest of the committee pointed out that they were seriously lacking in classic rock, but I said, "Fear not, for my CD collection is full of it." Then I examined said CD collection, and found that perhaps I didn't have so much after all. I could just about stretch it to cover four hours, and a few people offered to DJ, but it was still a bit worrying, since my collection was on the cheesy side, I couldn't afford to buy any more CDs, and I couldn't download any more music off th'Internet, as I don't have an Internet connection at my house. But on the actual day of the event, when Bryn asked, "Are you stressed?" I answered, honestly, that I wasn't. For it was too late to do any more hunting through the free CDs I got with Classic Rock magazine for gems; Socodi Music were supplying the PA and they'd never let us down before; and although Dale was supposed to collect half of it, and he seems to be spiritually in the middle of the Atlantic ocean (i.e. running an hour and a half behind than the rest of the country), he'd never failed to get it before. So I put on my costume. Everyone was supposed to go as their favourite classic rock star (only Anna The Goth and Sarah The Vice Goth actually did), but on account of my leg pains, I couldn't go into town to hunt for garb to turn me into anyone properly. Instead, I wore the beret, my red-and-black-stripy tights-top, my red PVC basque thang, my black PVC mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, suspenders, spiky jewellery, and, for the first time in days, the newish New Rock boots. The outfit: a kinky version of Minnie The Minx. Otherwise known as Minnie The Kinks. And The Kinks are a classic rock band. Ha! Although Dale only reached Socodi Music at 5.30 (when it closes), luckily Sleeve and Lex had thought to make two trips there and acquire the entire PA. Then Lex took me home so I could get the lighting and smoke machine and CDs and stoof. When I got back, however, had anyone thought to start setting up the PA? Nooooo. I told them to get on with it, while I started putting up the decorations and such (since I'm a technofool). Then someone mentioned to me that the 4-gang-power-supply I'd brought wasn't long enough, so I got Dale to take me home so I could get my longer one. When I got back, people reported that we had no phono-to-phono leads, so we couldn't connect the CD players to the mixer. But had anyone attempted to find different ones? Nooooo. So I dragged Sleeve off to the Stupid Union to see if we could borrow theirs. Unfortunately, their PA was in use, so there was only one lead there - we needed two. Luckily, Adrian then suggested that his housemate might have one. His housemate did indeed have one, so off Adrian and Dale went to get it. But, by the time they got back, it was 7.30, and we were meant to have done a soundcheck, taught people how to DJ, done a fifteen minute goth set and a fifteen minute grunge set by then. So Anna played some olde goth stuff, I played some olde random stuff, and Iain played some olde grunge. Then Mak, who knew how to DJ, played some olde Metallica and Megadeth and the like, and people started dancing. Then I had fifteen minutes before the punk set was due to begin, in which I played "Inside" by Stiltskin (much appreciated), "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi (Iain covered his ears in terror, but others were grateful), "Action" by Def Leppard (not so well-liked) and "Can I Play With Madness" by Iron Maiden (ditto). Then there was to be a half-hour long classic punk set. Unfortunately, no out-and-out punks had turned up, and no one had, as I'd been hoping, provided me with any 80s American punk (for I have zero - on CD anyway). So it was a bit poo. Then Stef did a glam rock set, which also went down a bit poo-ly. Then Mak did some requests, and then it was up to me to do a final hour and a quarter of goodness, incorporating requests as best possible. Bearing in mind that I'd never DJed after 8.30 before (i.e. after I was meant to play well-liked stuff), I have a nasty habit of trying to open the wrong CD drawer, and I was running out of music, this was slightly nerve-wracking. But luckily, Bryn (finally) turned up and did the fading (which I'm useless at), and the crowd loved it! "Sledgehammer", "Aces High", "Head Like A Hole", "Tonight I'm Going To Rock You Tonight" and "Walk This Way" went down a treat and I finished the night thus:
Smoke On The Water - Deep Purple
I was very torn about how to end it. "Poison" was due to finish at 11.30, which is when we had to stop, but since 1) there were no security guards and 2) Fright Night often ends on that note, "God Gave Rock And Roll To You" had to be played as well. But should I:
1) do the cheesy ending and play the entire song?
In the end, I got the best deal: I was really enyojing "God Gave Rock And Roll", so I went for option 1. But afterwards, people begged for an encore, so I got to play "Smells Like Teen Spirit" too! I was kind of annoyed, because I got asked for "London's Calling" (several times - playing "Should I Stay Or Should I Go?" didn't help at all), Sheep On Drugs, Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson, all of which I own, but none of which I'd brought with me. But someone donated a Clash album, and the other three bands are only classic in the eyes of Ignorant Youth, so oh well, whatever, nevermind. Tiggs attempted to steal my Iron Maiden poster, but luckily I persuaded her to give it back, so all was good . . . . . . except now people are saying, "When's the next one?" and heech! There isn't a next one! As it is, we're doing 50% more events this term than ever attempted before, and the other five will be two Pits, two live music nights, and an Indie-pendence. Meep! On Saturday, Bryn and I went into town and bought each other belated Christmas presents. (A Warhammer model for him; a Warhammer model and "A Series Of Unfortunate Events #7" for me - I got more, because I have no full-time job, and he'll get to read "Unfortunate Events" too.) He went to buy a mixer from Socodi (since he wants to start running metal nights himself), while leaving me in Waterstones (so as not to die of bored). Funchiely enough, although I found four very very tempting books, I managed to not purchase any. We then spent the rest of the day catching up with sleep and watching "Buffy". Tuesday 14 January 2002 Yesteray started in a very productive manner. Although, after waking up, it took me ages to get out of bed, the trouble normally incurred by such a practice was cancelled out by the fact that I must have woken up Really Early. I then proceeded to make myself a funchie Ministry t-shirt, by gaffa-taping around the sleeves and neck of a plain black t-shirt, and forming the word MiNiSTRY on the front with gaffa tape. Then I made some notes for one of my modules, and spent the next three hours doing dissertation stoof. Incredible! Then I went to give the Four Hours Of Power money to the cash office, returned a book to the library, supervised first years, and had a lecture. Admittedly, after that, I went on the computer to check my friends page and misc (the very boring UKC newsgroup, but people who read it often ask about live music and rock society events, so I try and help them out) and e-mail Bryn, and while on the computer completely failed to contact any of the bands I was meant to be contacting . . . but after about an hour, I started to do some more dissertation! Since I believed this was a physical impossibility on a computer connected to the Internet, I was very shocked, but of course very pleased. The productiveness took a turn for the worse after that, though. The rock society meeting was very poorly attended (only four out of eleven people there at the outset, and two others drifted in later) and we spent most of it discussing means of getting the bathroom when sharing a house with three girls, and what to do if you find a mule in your shower. And these conversations were totally unrelated: between them, everyone said yea to getting a bubble machine, nay to selling tickets in our precious free time, yea to Sleeve distributing John's posters and fliers, yea to attempting to play music between bands, and boo to the student societies geen, security guards and Socodi Music. Then I had half an hour to kill before the retro thing in Rutherford Bar, so I destroyed it by going back on the Internet and again completely failing to contact any bands. And then the thing in Rutherford Bar proceeded to be thoroughly pants! It was supposed to be fancy dress, but since I'd had enough problems putting together a costume on Friday, I decided I'd just go as I was, as I were, as you want me to be, as a friend, as a trend, as a goth biker chick. (Though can you ride, ride, on a motorbiiiike! while wearing a knee length skirt? You can't do anything else in one.) But the only person who turned up in fancy dress was a bloke in a top hat, who promptly left. Need to rewrite "Anarchy In The UK" as "Apathy At UKC". The music was mainly disco bumph and it grew more obscure as the night went on - the only thing I recognised in the last hour was a speeded up version of "Le Freak", the normal version of which had been played early. Nobody danced, and me and Klair individually asked the DJ to play "Blue Monday". He said to me, "Yeah, later". He said to Klaire, "Yeah, if I can find it." And he proceeded not to play it . . . but of course we had to wait until the end to see if he did or not. Glory be to the Beercart! The UKC sweet machines are also sweet! About this time last year, I was buying a packet of Fruit Pastilles from the one in the Physics department, when it gave me two! Alas, for one of them fell out of my pocket in a lecture theatre, never to be seen again. And yesterday, I gave Sleeve 50p so he could buy me a 35p Mars Bar from a Rutherford machine. (Making use of your lackeys = all part of being president.) But he reported it hadn't given any change. Today, however, I put 50p into an Eliot machine to buy a 35p Mars Bar, only to receive 30p change! The receptionists in the medical centre are, however, purely evil. Last Tuesday, I made an appointment to have my leg looked at, and as usual, I forgot which doctor it was with. But at the reception, rather than waiting for them to say, "Which doctor is it with?" and have to meekly admit, "I can't remember!" I instead cheerfully declared my blissful ignorance: "I've got an appointment at 4.30, but I can't remember which doctor it's with!" "There's only one in today," the receptionist said, as if I should have known that. "Well, it I guess it's with him - or her - then," I replied. "I guess it with him or her then," she mocked. This week, since the drugs didn't work, I made another appointment. This time, they didn't tell me what doctor it was with, so I assumed there must only be one in. But when I got there, I was asked, "Which doctor is it with?" "I wasn't told," I replied, but I bet they didn't believe me! Anyway. Am to make an appointment with the physiotherapist. Yay! I've wanted to have physiotherapy ever since I started playing "Premier Manager" when I was fourteen and my players kept getting injured. Also, fortunately, the physiotherapist doesn't live too far from me, so the getting to her house / office / surgery / whatever won't injure my leg any more so. In other happier news, I finally 1) didn't have any shopping to carry and 2) remembered to collect my various packages from Eliot College reception. (On account of my never being at home and my fear that there is an escaped convict living in my shed - there was one living in my Iain's shed last year - I have all my packages delivered to Eliot College.) There were three of them: various Christmas presents I couldn't carry back to Canterbury, various Christmas presents that hadn't arrived when I left (some Long-Unspellable-Russian-Surname books), and the Huge Necessary Operations Research Textbook O Duuuuuume (it's large, hardbacked and about 1500 pages long) I'd ordered from Amazon. I told the receptionist that I wouldn't be able to carry them all at once, but he laughed at me, picked them all up at once, and decided I could manage. Since I live about ten minutes away from Eliot College, my arms may now require physiotherapy as well. Why did it escape my attention, when I added it to my Amazon wishlist, that "November 1916" it is nine hundred pages long, and therefore, as well as being Scary Great Literature, is longer than anything I've read before? (Despite my exam results indicating ridiculous intelligence, I am incapable of reading anything other than fluff. I attempted to read "Tess Of The D'Urbevilles" five times, but never got beyond page fifty, frustrated by my pocket dictionary not containing half the words. And I still haven't got beyond chapter ten of "The Hobbit", ten years after starting it.) I'm not ever going to be able to pick it up again, much less read the entire thing this lifetime! I started reading "A Day In The Life Of Ivan Long-Unspellable-Russian-Surname" instead, in the hope that I'll get used to Long-Unspellable-Russian-Surname's style, only to realise they're translated by different people. D'oh! Wednesday 15 January 2003 Lecturer: *pulls up overhead projector screen to reveal half a blackboard* This bit of board has never been written on. *scribbles gleefully on virgin board. Attempts to rub it off with hand (oo-er)* And it doesn't rub off either! *wipes board with cloth, leaving pale-but-large chalky patch* Oh, I shall look forward to writing on that later! Friday 17 January 2003 Bryn thought he was going to lose his job today. He's only got a temporary contract, which is due to end soon, and the plan of the re-arranged office didn't have a desk for him. And all his usually friendly co-workers went out for lunch yesterday without him. So I was all worried! "After six months of automatically sending messages to his work e-mail address, how will I stop?" I wondered. "Now some evil administrator will receive all my messages about uniform kinks and whether Muggle parents would consider Hogwarts more dangerous than Muggle schools and discover that I still haven't seen the entirety of the Holy Trilogy!" But guess what? He didn't lose his job! How dare he? All that worry for nothing! Sunday 19 January 2003 Yesterday was not very productive. The previous night, I fell asleep with the light on, and "Angus, Thongs And Full-Frontal Snogging" in my hand. So, when I woke in the morning, what easier way to start the day than to read some more? It should be pointed out that I felt a deep sense of revulsion when I saw this book for the first time. However, Meaghan bought it, and when I expressed my curiosity over its nature - for it didn't seem like her preferred type of book either - she said I could have it, and the sequel. And though it was funny, it was as shallow as I'd predicted. Unfortunately, it was very addictive, so I finished it, then read the sequel. Sleeve came round just before I finished it, to steal my drawing pins. Unfortunately for him, my winter pyjamas consist of a UKC hoodie and sports trousers - i.e. if he didn't know me better, I'd look dressed. Then I went into town. My main need was food, so I could have just gone to Sainsbury's, which is closer and doesn't involve going through the dreaded park and town centre. Unfortunately, since my superglue has gone astray and Bryn is quite desperate to glue some Warhammer models together (he is a strange, sad boy) I thought I'd go into the town centre to get some more. And have a look for some plain black t-shirts and black leggings while I was at it. I didn't find any leggings, which was ok, because it isn't the 80s anymore, so I didn't expect to. What drove me mad was the complete lack of plain black t-shirts! There were black tank tops, but they won't do at all, for my figure is wrong. On account of goth being trendy at the end of last year, there were loads of cruddy black tops with lace and netting bits on the sleeves at discount prices, which may have been tempting under other circumstances, on account of said discount prices, but all I wanted were plain black t-shirts! And after trying all the Boring Shops - without success: I found plain red t-shirts and plain navy blue shirts, but they wouldn't do - I finally had a look in Top Shop, where I acquired a plain black t-shirt a couple of years ago. I noticed a whole rack of black t-shirts, and for a moment, I thought my prayers had been answered. But upon closer examination, they all said, "TOP SHOP" on the front of them in large letters. Why, oh why, would anyone want to look like a Top Shop employee? I get the feeling the shops can see me coming in, in my trenchcoat and Nirvana shirt and satin skirt and fishnet tights and pink and purple striped legwarmers and New Rock boots and think, "Eek! An impostor! Quick, deck the racks in baby blue and pastel pink so she'll leave post-haste!" Which is highly suckin, because shops of alternativity, which are more welcoming of my potential custom, do not sell plain black t-shirts either. To make the day worse, when I got to Safeway's, I discovered they were selling orange squash in four litre bottles for the price of three litre ones. This was a joyous occasion - except for the discovery, after the purchase of two of them, that there was no way I'd be able to carry them home. Not with My Leg As It Is. So I had to get a costly bus of dume! Fortunately, though costly, it was the least dumeful bus I have ever taken!
1. When I reached the bus station, it was there and raring to go.
W00t! After that, I did a smidgen of work (but no dissertation), went on the computer and finally got round to e-mailing all the bands (as opposed to doing the dissertation) and then went to see "28 Days Later" (which was meant to be a nice break in the middle of doing my dissertation, but oh well), which I enyojed it very much. Unfortunately, it was to have unpleasant after-effects. I went home and had a long and partially angstful conversation avec La Gitte Du Soppiment (although my primary contribution to the angstiness was "Why aren't there any black t-shirts? ANGST!"), then I read a bit of "The Gulag Archipelago" by Solzhenitsyn (I finished "One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich" - the short book - so have moved onto the one that's only 512 pages long) and tried to go to sleep. Only for me to hallucinate that the 28 Days were happening while I was trying to put on the live music events, and only two of the nine bands evaded zombification. The rest of my sleep was troubled, and then my alarm woke me at eight, because I'd said I'd go and chat online to Ibid, who currently resides two hours in the future, at nine. Feeling tired (but not sleepy) and without anything in the day to look forward to, I finally got out of bed at nine, and made it to campus by ten. Since then, though, the day has been none too shabby, except for a phonecall from Chris. The best bit was Bryn's brother, who goes to univesity some hundred miles away, sending me the following message, concerning a university friend of his. (Dyslexia runs in the family.) "Do you remember meeting a young guy with long blond hair and a beard in a black leather coat in the bear cart arms at the end of the christmas hollidays? ok joke over. his name is Andrew i could not beleve it when he said that he ended up talking to an unusual girl who was so unusual she introduced herself as Z." I remembered the guy, but was left wondering: what was so unusual about me? Being called Zed isn't that strange. Then I remembered what I was wearing that night. A purple fake leather jacket, a bright pink top, the satin skirt, neon yellow and black stripy tights, big New Rocks, and the crazy Russian military hat. People who know me wouldn't be too bothered by this height of my insanity - but yes, strangers could be excused for being a little bewildered. Sunday 26 January 2003 Although it doesn't feel like it, I am definitely spending too much time with Bryn. He's currently obsessed with PA systems, and as I result *I've* started hallucinating about speakers! (Speakers with chains round them, to be precise. How gothic!) I spent the entirety of Friday morning tearing my hair out. For The Pit was to take place that evening, and John, He Who Usually DJs For 3 And A Half Hours, was not going to be there. Iain, Mak and Mark were willing to DJ for bits of the evening, and Bryn agreed to do the fading side of things for the remainder of the time - but who had to actually decide on and provide the music for this bit (including the final three quarters of an hour)? Moi. And I'd just realised, for all the classic rock I don't have, there is ten times as much nu metal I lack. And so I spent the entire morning, frantically burning my Deftones and Limp Bizkit MP3s (shh) to CD - thank Mykos for my CD burner randomly deciding to start working again - and listening to the free compilation CDs I'd got with Kerrang, Metal Hammer and Terroriser in the last year. But all their contents were, to my ears, complete poo! After a while, I just wanted a track that sounded familiar, that I'd heard at The Pit or The Beercart before, but there was none to be had, not even on the "Best Of 2002" album. I'd suspected it before, but this confirmed that there's been very little in the way of good nu metal in the last twelve months. But things got better. Even without John, who usually sets up the sound system, Bryn The Audiophile and Ramsay, who saved the day last time, Sleeve and Anna managed to set up the PA in record time (it was ready by 5.40!) - and it all worked! The goth set was as undanced-to as ever (i.e. Sarah - if that - since Anna and myself DJ), but a large number of people turned up for the industrial set, and thanks to a couple Anna met at the recent Icon O Coil / Assemblage 23 / Swarf gig (who wish to start their own goth night in Canterbury) coming along, there were even five people dancing! Then Dale wanted to play a bit of industrial, including the Ultraviolence cover of "Paranoid", which went down wonderfully. Then Mark did the black/death/dume bit and Iain did the grunge - stoner - thrash bit (thankfully, as I have very little of any of those genres) - don't know how that went, cos I was outside, trying to figure out how to move a v. heavy stage from one side of campus to t'other without a van for the live music event, and listening to plans to crossbreed a rabbit, a rat and a mouse into a super-rodent. I can't remember exactly what I played in my first set, but these were included:
Sum 41 - Fat Lip
But all of a sudden, the set was over - we hadn't played half of what we had available for that set - and Mak was on. Again, I'm not totally sure how good his set was, because I was outside, panicking with Bryn over the final set. We had only forty five minutes, and 27 bands we simply *had* to play. My fears of not having enough music had been very much in vain. Eventually, we narrowed it down as follows:
The Theme Tune From Buffy (as requested regularly for several months by Sleeve - it may have never been played in a club before, but it went down *very* well!)
Although we'd gone overtime already, no one had complained (for the fourth time, no fleeping security had turned up), so we decided to play "Just" by Radiohead, whether we were asked for an encore or not. (We were.) Then, since I'd run off to talk to people, evil Bryn put "No Good (Start The Dance)" by The Prodigy on, without my permission. He protested it was to clear the dancefloor, but it was having the opposite effect on the goths, so I put "Uncle F***a" from the South Park Movie on instead. Everyone went insane, but was happy to leave afterwards. Our bits probably had a bit too much of an industrial-metal bias for everyone's liking, but I haven't had any E-Mails O Complaint, as I usually do, which can't be such a bad thing. That night, I didn't get much sleep, and hallucinated I had to do another set, with only three CDs at my disposal. Eventually, I decided I didn't care if everyone hated me and gave up. The rest of the weekend was fairly standard of those when Bryn visits - went into Canterbury to do various chores, watched Buffy and slept. And now, I must do some work. Tuesday 28 January 2003: Ode To An Orange Sock
Argh, I am so freaked out!
It grew attached to a white one first
It maybe thought it helpful
But I've had that sock for ages
I could, of course, retrieve it
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