given that i havent posted anything for ages, here i am shootin you two, thats right, TWO in one day!
i have so much to tell you...
as beth orton, the "come down queen", once said: "where do i start? where do i begin?"
incidentley*, i met her on crown street back in 99. she was record hunting with the chemical brothers. i got their autographs, the dorks, but i terrified poor old beth. shes sensitive. she must be. shes perpetually coming down. shes the comedown queen. you dont get a royal title like that with out some serious coming down. she actually went temporarily blind, for about a year, from taking too many Es. that would have to be the ultimate comedown, a whole year, imagine: waking up one morning after a heavy night clubbing, and being so off your chops you actually, literally, cant see.
oh well.
i have unlimited access to a computor at the moment so im making the most of it.
i have a confession to make. i am actually feeling a tad guilty. its about me gadge, see. or more specifically the whole gadge/ house fiasco.
*unscheduled coffee break*
the garage thing ended badly. perhaps i shoulda been more discreet. perhaps i never shoulda told nobody, see? perhaps i never shoulda exited me gadge out them big ol barn doors, ie, the front, and kept it secret squirrel out the back. i had my bed set up in there, with a mosquito net to keep away the bugs but more importantly the bits of concrete and flakes of paint that would fall from the ceiling and the walls. it was more psychological protection, really, because as we all know eventually those fine particles are going to enter your lungs and then your blood stream and get up to all manner of mischeif in there but the net helped me sleep at night.
anyway, sure the bed was obviously a bed (procured from the street) and there were definetly my clothes all over the place and a guitar and a bass and acoupla of couches and rugs on the floor and another blanket hanging form the celing to catch other lead based paint bits and some photos of me in japan , and me and me mum on the wall, but was it that obvious that someone was living in there?
the answer is, of course, of course.
the landlord came over to do some once in a decade maintenance and went in there to get some gyprock and got sus.
i was blaze, i admit it. i made no effort to hide the fact that some one was living in an uninhabitable space when, in hindsight, i should' ve.
what transpired at the end of the day is that we get a letter from the council saying that they have reason to believe that we are harbouring backpackers and
that they will come over to inspect and make sure that no one is, or has ever lived in that garage. we dont know who told the council. it may have been a neighbour, or the landlord, or some disgruntled punter who took exception to the jelly wrestling extravaganza of the last party.
For christs sake, a french man lived in that garage for eighteen months and nobody cared! How times have changed.
so i had to move out
i spent a whole weekend making that space my own. i painted the walls, the floor, cleaned her out, sanded her back. for the first time in my life i felt practical, inventive, physical and charismatic. like some one from a lifestyle program.
it was my space.
i created my own space.
*check speliing
