Moving to MySpace

Hiya,

Just to let you know that rather than maintain two blogs, I'm moving over MySpace from now on. You can get it at:

http://www.myspace.com/paulcardno

Cheers,


P.

Weekend plus..

fast times at dropout high lately... Yes, even a shockingly bad performance from The Ataris the other week hasn't put me off their recorded music..

Anyway, Friday, nice night out.. 3B's, very temporary journey to the After Dark then off home. Awful performance on virtual shuffleboard. Must practise more. This is not a euphemism.

Saturday, Phil Ecoute's stag do on a boat going up the Thames. Lovely way to spend an evening, very very very drunk, rotten but fun fromage club, then off to the Turtle for ten minutes of staggering around before deciding going home was the best option.

Sunday - Top Gear back on! Woo! The weekend finishes properly now! Worked on a new song that I'm liking - nice chorus. Must add superfluous guitar nonsense to obscure any sense of melody.

Monday - The Boss! Went to see Bruce Springsteen at the Hammersmith Apollo. Amazing performance of all his new album and some oldies. Very much like a hoedown / musical / music hall / panto / sixties diner / gospel mass / church service / peace rally / wedding / funeral. Just stunning, really. I wasn't sure what to expect, which maybe made it even better when it was spectacular. Up there with Bright Eyes w/ Rilo Kiley and the Flaming Lips as one of the best gigs I've ever been to.

Honestly.

Ordered to post..

Apparantly I'm not keeping this up to date enough at the minute. Oh well, quick review since the last post:

Moved into Reading into very nice flat, hence no more Molly Millar toilet updates. Might move onto Great Expectations toilet updates.
Bought stuff from Ikea.
Enjoying my sofa - bed is creaky.
Stumble to the After Dark is really easy!
Digital TV fucking sucks.
Hoppipola means splashing in puddles.
Got promoted.
Have new girlfriend.
Bought new amplifier (Fender deVille).
Joined new band (One Day To Live).

Gigs-wise:

25th March - Rebus @ The Rescue Rooms, Nottingham: Horrid hotel, decent gig, weird party with drugs I didn't take, hangover.
31st March - SixNationState Single Launch @ RISC Cafe: Free sambuca, me playing with Rebus briefly, piley ons, falling over drunk, great night.
5th April - Reading Fringe Launch Party w/ Mark Handley & SixNationState @ Plug 'n' Play: Nice stuff, great launch, good hat wearing, nice balloons.
8th April - Rebus & SixNationState @ Lennons, Southampton: Great venue, very hungover/drunk, I formed a band SNS get signed, brilliant night, blacked out in the car.
15th April - Rebus Single Launch @ Plug 'n' Play: Great gig, girlfriend getting, party party money for nothing, air guitar, Turtle, fell down
19th April - Rebus, My Luminaries, SixNationState, Heartwear Process, The Race @ The 3B's: Just astounding, covers, other covers, mystery guests, beer, one-in-one out, wonderful.
21st-23rd April - Rebus @ Leicester, Leeds, London: Beer, beer, beer, bus, beer, bus, beer, riot police, baileys from a shoe, crack, mosh, Gale
2nd May - The Ataris @ Luminaire, Kilburn: Rubbish.

Happy now?

Further Molly News..

In further interesting Molly Millars news, the cubicle with the writing mentioned below is now officially leaking piss everywhere. Nice work, landlord man.

Also, someone has added a witty reposte to the suggestion that the place was a shit hole, with a cunning "Fuck U!" scrawled on the wall. Good to know the management are taking time to response to criticism.

Local Boozers

I'm moving house next week and am moving out of the town I've lived in for the last 6 or 7 years, being Wokingham. I'm moving to Reading, as it's where I spend most of my going out time and it well handy for getting in and out of London. I'm going to save some money in less taxis and train fares, but basically it's just a good move.

But I'm going to miss something I never thought I'd miss. The Molly Millar. It's the giant "fun" pub next to me, that previously went under the legendary name of "Big Hand Mo's Good Time Emporium". People get sniffy about the Molly, saying it's full of chavs, it's violent, the staff are rude, the food is rubbish and so on. And you know what, that's pretty much an accurate picture I reckon. However, it doesn't change the fact that if you want a boozer you can go and watch the footie in, that's got a good atmosphere and a reasonable pint, you can't go wrong. I don't want to watch the footie in a wine bar - I want to watch it in a pub. And that's what the Molly Millar is - a good, old fashioned pub. People get drunk, they occasionally vomit, and sometimes, as the picture above nearly shows, the doors on the toilets fall off. So fucking what? It's fun, the barman always knows what you're drinking and what your team is, and that's good enough for me.

Oh, and in case it's not too legible - the writing above was on the wall above the toilet roll dispenser (which had fallen off) and says "Any chance of fixing the fucking doors? This place is a shit hole.".

Classic stuff.

James and Sunshine

I was out on Saturday night, and following a slow start due to struggling with a hangover, I got on it properly and ended up pretty shitfaced. Nice. When I woke up Sunday morning to go and watch the Newcastle-Liverpool match (I always knew Crouchey'd turn out alright in the end, the talentless lanky fuckwit) I walked out of the flat and someone nearby was playing music very loudly with their windows open. They were playing James' Greatest Hits, and I've got to say, it was just perfect. A lovely sunny day, heading to the pub, no hangover evident even with having been in the Purple Turtle until 4am and some great music playing. I walked down the road to the sounds of Say Something, and I felt a bit like an indie John Travolta at the start of Saturday Night Fever.

Then we won 3-1, the Guinness in the pub was spot on and I went home and played James' Greatest Hits.

In bed by ten after listening to Graham Coxon's Happiness In Magazines for most of the evening, and it was as good a Sunday as you could hope to have.

Great stuff.

Unhappy people...

Hmm.. Long time no post... Just had a busy weekend with a good night on Friday playing poker, seeing my parents on Saturday day, out Saturday night then a quiet day yesterday watching the footy..

But my first post is dedicated to a single individual. That person being the fat albino American who was on the 1920 train from Reading to Paddington on Friday evening. It's dedicated to him, as I feel that the life he has to lead must be pretty awful so he needs all the help he can get.

I hopped on the train at Reading to head over to Ealing to play poker at a friend's place, and took a seat in one of those 6 seater bits. I was having a pretty uneventful journey, listening to the Chris Moyles podcast and generally keeping myself to myself. Oh, other than my big Guinness St Patrick's day hat. Anyway, some time into the journey, we stop at Southall, and 3 people get on the train - 2 blokes and a girl. One of the guys is carrying a guitar case and the other a guitar. They sit down on the set of 6 seats with me and now and again the guy with the guitar strums it a little, hums along a bit.

After a couple of minutes, he kicks into a song and quite simply, it was amazing. His guitar playing was pretty basic, but perfectly suited, and his singing was just brilliant. It was a combination of poppy chords, with this incredibly Indian vocal line over the top of it. He played through this song, which I was listening to intently (while pretending to still be listening to my MP3 player) and the other guy accompanied him on percussion, with some handclaps and leading the rythmn by drumming gently on the train seats with his hands. And it was just superb.

Once they'd finished that song, the first guy handed the guitar to the other bloke, who started playing this incredibly Spanish-style guitar picking, but with an Indian flavour. It was stunning stuff. The girl and bloke 1 were having a chat, and it appears that bloke 1 was a DJ on a radio station and had maybe come up to pick up bloke 2, who was the artist that'd be appearing on his radio show that night.

It was one of those moments when I just felt so glad to be alive - some random people get on the train, play some incredibly music, and then I get off to go out for a nice night.

Except for one thing.

At the station after Southall, the fat American albino (remember him?) jumps up, grabs his bags and starts storming down the carriage, shouting at the top of his voice "IT'S NOT A FUCKING CABARET, OK!!!!" and goes to a different carriage.

I find it incredibly sad that this miserable, pathetic man can't take pleasure in a random event that ocurred, that must have enhanced his day in some manner. What a terrible shame that his life is so miserable he can't take joy in such an event.

Well, all I can really say is that I hope one day he opens his mind to new ideas, how great things can happen in uexpected circumstances and how they're the kind of things people should savour.

Oh, and I lost at poker. And missed the train home, but that was my own fault - I was buying a bottle of water from a vending machine and the train arrived and fucked off without me noticing. Arse.

Unfair hangover..

Two cans of Stella, four pints of Guiness and 3 snakebite and black. How exactly is it fair that I've felt like shit all day today. Maybe it's old age. This blows.

In other news, it's time to look for a new band. Yay!