Thirty Thousand Streets

Thursday, September 04, 2008


Another day, another grimey buck tucked in the freelancer's pocket, in this modern day babylon. Still, not all bad. A project I worked on a few months back, which I thought had been quietly forgotten about, might actually seen the light of day, in a still recognisable form. Which is nice.

Someone stuck on my Arthur Russell CD today, which lasted about three tracks before someone said "this is wierd". Which it is, I suppose (that's why I like it).

Its kind of strange going back somewhere I work frequently, to discover lots of people have moved on, as has happened recently. Ade suggested it was a bit like Narnia, only of course, proceedings aren't being lorded over by an intelligent christ-like lion, so not all that like Narnia at all.

Went to see Will this evening in Shepherd's Bush, on the penultimate day of his working there. No tube, so got off at White CIty one stop up, and walked down past the BBC. I reminded me of one of the first nights out I had in London when I moved down almost four (fuckk...) years ago and I caught the 148 up for post work drinks, so this evening felt curiously epigrammatic somehow. Went for a pint and a chat, which was good. Will got half a pint of Tim Taylor, and it came in the rinkyest half pint tankard I've ever seen, which the people behind me at the bar were gasping at.

Caught the bus back, which took ages. Cooked fishcakes when I got in. Tired now. Listening to the Starship Sofa podcast, and observing that science fiction poetry is possibly the cheesiest thing ever. Almost Vogon-like in stature, in terms of badness, in fact.

Film tomorrow evening. Hoo-ha.

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