Sunday, 30 March 2008

The forgotten trek

Last night was not a succesful Saturday eve. After downing half a bottle of sweet sweet rosé we cabbed it to East London and arrived at 12:30. To our dismay but certainly not suprise, Cafe 1001 was guest list only, so we continued on, as the skys opened and pissed all over us, to Gramma Phone. Tonight it was 10 pounds or no entry. Considering my shoes were overflowing pools of dirty dirty London water he could have took pity.. BUT NO.

So we retraced our steps and 40 mins later we were passengers on an over-crowded bus. The bus driver was an obnoxious twat who thought he was the devine bus god who therefore had the right to refuse to 'just do his job and drive the bus' (as a highly irritated girl strongly suggested). 10 minutes later he did.

Maybe if we'd taken video footage I could have proved to myself that, despite the torrential rain and continuous knock-backs, we actually did have a good time. Highly unlikely.

This is one we prepared earlier...

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I am more than prone to monologues; however, this is solely due to the manner in which they compliment a witty anecdote and their ability to resemble concrete evidence when it is so obviously lacking. I often wish I could emulate that aloof character who coolly stands in the corner smiling mysteriously as if she has a secret. However, I fear resisting the temptation to involve myself in other people’s conflicts and responding through body language rather than verbose banter may come across as contrived and arrogant. And, I am not willing to take that chance.

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