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bliumchikEep, that makes three, count'em THREEEEE consecutive nights of rock'n'roll. You know that wesbite, "fuck my life"? I want one called <3 my life omg. Oh hey, I ask and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snarkaddict provides!
Talkbox were awesome. I didn't have to navigate public transport, either - Alex B. lives literally forty metres away from my bus stop, so as I was crossing the road I saw her and Sam the bassist sitting on her car waiting for the rest of the band to rock up, and promptly scored a ride to the venue. But, first, performing impromptu roadie assistant duties in aid of transferring massive amplifiers from the tiny car to the garage for preliminary soundcheck and back to a different car with more room. Alex's parents sort of collect beaten up cars of various descriptions, I've lost track of which ones they have at the moment, but this one was a dark red stationwagon with a boot door that required the combined efforts of all three of us to get open. Sam pushed down on the handle, I held the key turned and Alex jiggled it from inside the car. It was hilarious.
Shortly Bel and Don arrived and I sat around on the lawn playing with a tambourine while they adjusted amps in the garage, and then finally we headed off. We picked up Sharanya by UNSW, which meant I ended up in the middle seat and nearly got brained at a roundabout by a shifting guitar, which I wisely chose to hold onto for the rest of the trip. Alex pulled a technically slightly illegal U-turn and cackled madly because Don was following her and is normally a more sedate driver. Then we pulled into the parking lot of something called Deno's Diner, which was straight out of the seventies. Sharanya wandered around taking photos of it while Alex ascertained the location of the Harp's actual parking space, and then we relocated and I carried more guitars. I felt very cool. But also very hungry, and shortly fucked off to find the bistro, which had ten dollars steak sandwich and chips meals! nom nom nom.
Gathy and Sasha showed up just as Talkbox were finally getting on stage (Val came in halfway through, griping about traffic). We all sat down right up front, which I thought was possibly unwise given our proximity to the speakers, but turned out okay. The band was pretty awesome, much more together than last year and with only a few technical difficulties. Once again I really wish they had recordings or at least lyrics up somewhere, because I keep getting loops of a few lines where I can remember the words clearly stuck in my head.
Last night was Diana's "surprise" birthday party (let's just say Yifan was much easier to get the drop on). I got her a DVD - She's The Man, a Twelfth Night modernisation (has crossdressing, is obviously relevant to her interests :P). Other presents were similarly Diana-specific, including a hilarious if slightly WRONNNG teddy bear pen holder (guess where the pen went. No, just... guess) and a little book full of cyanide and happiness-like cartoons. Also, sake!
After an enjoyable Japanese dinner (immediately preceded by a half-hour-long argument over the menu, which was resolved by Min's eidetic memory and organisational skillz) we proceeded to Norita's, where we ordered ice cream and played Jenga. It was supposed to be a shot of sake for whoever made it fall down, but the sake was actually really tasty and there were multiple engineers at the table and falling blocks were endangering the ice cream, so we ended up drinking whatever we wanted and constructing elaborate towers, walls and catapults out of the wooden blocks.
Around half past eight I got out my make-up and started preparing my zombie drag. I did the creepy veins covered by green eyeshadow again, but this time added some purple eyeshadow and blue lipgloss for highlights, and did big red rings around my eyes. I couldn't be bothered dragging bloodstained clothing all the way through Diana's party so I just wore my big jacket and proclaimed myself a zombie hobo. CHAAANGE.
I took the bus down to Central and wandered around for a bit trying to find the place. At one point I saw a couple of guys sitting around next to a door through which I could hear music and went up to them, but it turned out to be an unrelated gig. Finally I saw some people in ghoul outfits staring uncertainly at a door which, upon closer examination, had a little sign with a frankenstein monster and a dracula on it. Hurray!
The whole building gave the appearance of being some sort of warehouse converted into galleries/studios in the seventies and then abandoned to misc buyers. White walls, wooden floor, sparsely furnished and full of strange angles. (On googling, seems I was pretty close!) The lift was wide, clanky and extremely white, with philosophical ballpoint graffiti. On the way in I bought a zine and a badge picturing George Bush vampire-biting the Statue of Liberty, and then ducked into the surprisingly spacious bathroom, where I noticed a plastic square of facepaint on the sink, presumably for public use, and touched up some bloodstains around my mouth.
The interior was dark but not too smoky. On the big projector screen was something I was assured was entitled Frankenhooker, while two small ancient televisions showed completely different black and white horror movies. None of these had the sound on, as the DJ was playing background music at a decent volume. At first I sort of wandered around awkwardly, trying to figure out who had invited me to this on facebook and whether they were present. I chatted with the ghouls for a bit and watched as the guy in the lab coat was massaged by seven hookers in a strangely non-erotic fashion - he kept his lab coat on, and they looked sort of like they were giving him CPR.
Then I ran into a blonde girl who recognised me from what turned out to be our ONE previous meeting at the WriteSoc stall on O Day - impressive memory skills given I had gained scary eyeliner veins and patches of eyeshadow mold since then. She turned out to be a drummer and we agreed to jam sometime as the hookers onscreen shuddered and exploded one by one. She was also a big fan of Ghoul, whose lead singer Ivan, she explained, was performing tonight. Ghoul were, she enthused, sort of like a combination of Jeff Buckley and Radiohead, both of whom she was obsessed with, so she was naturally a massive fan.
Shortly they paused the movie while Ivan went onstage, alone with an electric guitar. His voice was truly fantastic but not quite my style of music - and obviously the Jeff Buckley comparison did nothing much for me. I thought at the time that it would make pretty great background music, and listening to it now on Myspace I was totally right. Anyway, then the movie was turned back on and there was a break which I used to grab a beer (primarily because they were free) and write suggestions on the Zombie Contingency Plan list on the wall, where I was joined by a guy I thought had dressed up as a werewolf but turned out to be a Zombie Kitten, in reference to an apocryphal tale of a scientist who reanimated a dead cat with electricity. He had eyeliner whiskers and paper ears attached to a set of leia-headphones. He drew a fat Italian zombie with manboobs. Onscreen, the scientist frantically sorted through hooker appendages in his lab.
I went to the bathroom again to refill my waterbottle (because beer and sake did not feel like a mix conducive to pain-free mornings without some extreme hydration) and paused, caught by the view from the long window, wide window. Central Station was perfectly framed by the city skyline - long bright parallel strips of platform in the darkness, trains undulating through the night, and geometric patterns in the high-rise windows. It was beautiful. Then I went back outside, where the scientist was now running away from his reanimated Frankenhooker and the Zombie Vs. Vampire Debate was being announced. We heard from a guy with a skull-smile of teeth painted on his face and a closet Twilight fan, and also a surprise glam-werewolf speaking up for the underdog.
"Vampires penetrate!" somebody shouted to my right.
"Zombies decapitate!" I yelled back.
"Penetration!"
"Decapitation!"
And the crowd loled. A woman with a big camera took a photo of me. The debate was delcared for the zombies, and Sherlock's Daughter began to play. They were totally awesome! And they had a xylophone! Towards the end of their set I got a text from Alex T. of the Writer's Society, who had shown up late. When the band was done I went and found him and dragged him into the brightly lit corridor to lend him my make-up - what of it was suitable for a vampire, given his black trenchcoat was not particularly suited to zombiehood. He spent some time meticulously applying it as I rolled my eyes and mumbled "Design students! Pah!" and tried to finish my shitty beer. Then I got the red eye pencil and gave him some fang marks.
We went back in to see the costume competition and the next band, who were a little disappointed at being unable to enter said competition due to conflict of interest, as they were decompawesomely made up and they matched, to boot! The winner was a Corpse Bride, who got some books for her trouble - she did look pretty damn brilliant, although I thought they should have paired her with the most awesome of the male zombies, a guy with a massive bloodstained bandage round his head and a bloodstained t-shirt - they could have been the Zombie Prom King & Queen!
The scientist had switched to trying to track the Frankenhooker down. He went up to an old guy with a big frazzled beard who was standing in the street with an End Is Nigh Billboard. The scientist may have asked for directions or something, the old guy responded by reading out loud from some sort of notebook in doom-ridden tones, and then pointing to the strip club across the road. That's where they stopped it for Tennis, who rocked out in awesome zombified fashion. Halfway through the set I was siezed with a sudden intense skin-hunger and got a little depressed that my girlfriend was in Woop Woop memorising Japanese vocabulary. (Or, well, asleep by that point, lol.) The cure turned out to be the Zombie Dance Competition which followed, in that by the end of Thriller I was too tired to be sad. Also sore in the neck - zombie headbanging is not exactly chiropractically sound.
I never found out what happened to the scientist and the frankenhooker. I washed the worst of the "blood" off my mouth and me and Alex walked back up to Oxford street, where he lives and my late-night buses run. I was very lucky to be five minutes to the right side of the right bus, which comes ONCE AN HOUR at that time. I reread some Tom Disch stories on my way home, wandered through my neighborhood singing songs to take advantage of the awesome night-time acoustics, scrubbed vigorously at my face with a lemon scented wipe thing and collapsed into bed, where I stayed until midday. I fucking <3 my life right now.
Finally, go here and fight my weird sprite thing. They're adorable! STAB STAB STAB.
And an RTMI video fromdrjon:
snarkaddict provides!Talkbox were awesome. I didn't have to navigate public transport, either - Alex B. lives literally forty metres away from my bus stop, so as I was crossing the road I saw her and Sam the bassist sitting on her car waiting for the rest of the band to rock up, and promptly scored a ride to the venue. But, first, performing impromptu roadie assistant duties in aid of transferring massive amplifiers from the tiny car to the garage for preliminary soundcheck and back to a different car with more room. Alex's parents sort of collect beaten up cars of various descriptions, I've lost track of which ones they have at the moment, but this one was a dark red stationwagon with a boot door that required the combined efforts of all three of us to get open. Sam pushed down on the handle, I held the key turned and Alex jiggled it from inside the car. It was hilarious.
Shortly Bel and Don arrived and I sat around on the lawn playing with a tambourine while they adjusted amps in the garage, and then finally we headed off. We picked up Sharanya by UNSW, which meant I ended up in the middle seat and nearly got brained at a roundabout by a shifting guitar, which I wisely chose to hold onto for the rest of the trip. Alex pulled a technically slightly illegal U-turn and cackled madly because Don was following her and is normally a more sedate driver. Then we pulled into the parking lot of something called Deno's Diner, which was straight out of the seventies. Sharanya wandered around taking photos of it while Alex ascertained the location of the Harp's actual parking space, and then we relocated and I carried more guitars. I felt very cool. But also very hungry, and shortly fucked off to find the bistro, which had ten dollars steak sandwich and chips meals! nom nom nom.
Gathy and Sasha showed up just as Talkbox were finally getting on stage (Val came in halfway through, griping about traffic). We all sat down right up front, which I thought was possibly unwise given our proximity to the speakers, but turned out okay. The band was pretty awesome, much more together than last year and with only a few technical difficulties. Once again I really wish they had recordings or at least lyrics up somewhere, because I keep getting loops of a few lines where I can remember the words clearly stuck in my head.
Last night was Diana's "surprise" birthday party (let's just say Yifan was much easier to get the drop on). I got her a DVD - She's The Man, a Twelfth Night modernisation (has crossdressing, is obviously relevant to her interests :P). Other presents were similarly Diana-specific, including a hilarious if slightly WRONNNG teddy bear pen holder (guess where the pen went. No, just... guess) and a little book full of cyanide and happiness-like cartoons. Also, sake!
After an enjoyable Japanese dinner (immediately preceded by a half-hour-long argument over the menu, which was resolved by Min's eidetic memory and organisational skillz) we proceeded to Norita's, where we ordered ice cream and played Jenga. It was supposed to be a shot of sake for whoever made it fall down, but the sake was actually really tasty and there were multiple engineers at the table and falling blocks were endangering the ice cream, so we ended up drinking whatever we wanted and constructing elaborate towers, walls and catapults out of the wooden blocks.
Around half past eight I got out my make-up and started preparing my zombie drag. I did the creepy veins covered by green eyeshadow again, but this time added some purple eyeshadow and blue lipgloss for highlights, and did big red rings around my eyes. I couldn't be bothered dragging bloodstained clothing all the way through Diana's party so I just wore my big jacket and proclaimed myself a zombie hobo. CHAAANGE.
I took the bus down to Central and wandered around for a bit trying to find the place. At one point I saw a couple of guys sitting around next to a door through which I could hear music and went up to them, but it turned out to be an unrelated gig. Finally I saw some people in ghoul outfits staring uncertainly at a door which, upon closer examination, had a little sign with a frankenstein monster and a dracula on it. Hurray!
The whole building gave the appearance of being some sort of warehouse converted into galleries/studios in the seventies and then abandoned to misc buyers. White walls, wooden floor, sparsely furnished and full of strange angles. (On googling, seems I was pretty close!) The lift was wide, clanky and extremely white, with philosophical ballpoint graffiti. On the way in I bought a zine and a badge picturing George Bush vampire-biting the Statue of Liberty, and then ducked into the surprisingly spacious bathroom, where I noticed a plastic square of facepaint on the sink, presumably for public use, and touched up some bloodstains around my mouth.
The interior was dark but not too smoky. On the big projector screen was something I was assured was entitled Frankenhooker, while two small ancient televisions showed completely different black and white horror movies. None of these had the sound on, as the DJ was playing background music at a decent volume. At first I sort of wandered around awkwardly, trying to figure out who had invited me to this on facebook and whether they were present. I chatted with the ghouls for a bit and watched as the guy in the lab coat was massaged by seven hookers in a strangely non-erotic fashion - he kept his lab coat on, and they looked sort of like they were giving him CPR.
Then I ran into a blonde girl who recognised me from what turned out to be our ONE previous meeting at the WriteSoc stall on O Day - impressive memory skills given I had gained scary eyeliner veins and patches of eyeshadow mold since then. She turned out to be a drummer and we agreed to jam sometime as the hookers onscreen shuddered and exploded one by one. She was also a big fan of Ghoul, whose lead singer Ivan, she explained, was performing tonight. Ghoul were, she enthused, sort of like a combination of Jeff Buckley and Radiohead, both of whom she was obsessed with, so she was naturally a massive fan.
Shortly they paused the movie while Ivan went onstage, alone with an electric guitar. His voice was truly fantastic but not quite my style of music - and obviously the Jeff Buckley comparison did nothing much for me. I thought at the time that it would make pretty great background music, and listening to it now on Myspace I was totally right. Anyway, then the movie was turned back on and there was a break which I used to grab a beer (primarily because they were free) and write suggestions on the Zombie Contingency Plan list on the wall, where I was joined by a guy I thought had dressed up as a werewolf but turned out to be a Zombie Kitten, in reference to an apocryphal tale of a scientist who reanimated a dead cat with electricity. He had eyeliner whiskers and paper ears attached to a set of leia-headphones. He drew a fat Italian zombie with manboobs. Onscreen, the scientist frantically sorted through hooker appendages in his lab.
I went to the bathroom again to refill my waterbottle (because beer and sake did not feel like a mix conducive to pain-free mornings without some extreme hydration) and paused, caught by the view from the long window, wide window. Central Station was perfectly framed by the city skyline - long bright parallel strips of platform in the darkness, trains undulating through the night, and geometric patterns in the high-rise windows. It was beautiful. Then I went back outside, where the scientist was now running away from his reanimated Frankenhooker and the Zombie Vs. Vampire Debate was being announced. We heard from a guy with a skull-smile of teeth painted on his face and a closet Twilight fan, and also a surprise glam-werewolf speaking up for the underdog.
"Vampires penetrate!" somebody shouted to my right.
"Zombies decapitate!" I yelled back.
"Penetration!"
"Decapitation!"
And the crowd loled. A woman with a big camera took a photo of me. The debate was delcared for the zombies, and Sherlock's Daughter began to play. They were totally awesome! And they had a xylophone! Towards the end of their set I got a text from Alex T. of the Writer's Society, who had shown up late. When the band was done I went and found him and dragged him into the brightly lit corridor to lend him my make-up - what of it was suitable for a vampire, given his black trenchcoat was not particularly suited to zombiehood. He spent some time meticulously applying it as I rolled my eyes and mumbled "Design students! Pah!" and tried to finish my shitty beer. Then I got the red eye pencil and gave him some fang marks.
We went back in to see the costume competition and the next band, who were a little disappointed at being unable to enter said competition due to conflict of interest, as they were decompawesomely made up and they matched, to boot! The winner was a Corpse Bride, who got some books for her trouble - she did look pretty damn brilliant, although I thought they should have paired her with the most awesome of the male zombies, a guy with a massive bloodstained bandage round his head and a bloodstained t-shirt - they could have been the Zombie Prom King & Queen!
The scientist had switched to trying to track the Frankenhooker down. He went up to an old guy with a big frazzled beard who was standing in the street with an End Is Nigh Billboard. The scientist may have asked for directions or something, the old guy responded by reading out loud from some sort of notebook in doom-ridden tones, and then pointing to the strip club across the road. That's where they stopped it for Tennis, who rocked out in awesome zombified fashion. Halfway through the set I was siezed with a sudden intense skin-hunger and got a little depressed that my girlfriend was in Woop Woop memorising Japanese vocabulary. (Or, well, asleep by that point, lol.) The cure turned out to be the Zombie Dance Competition which followed, in that by the end of Thriller I was too tired to be sad. Also sore in the neck - zombie headbanging is not exactly chiropractically sound.
I never found out what happened to the scientist and the frankenhooker. I washed the worst of the "blood" off my mouth and me and Alex walked back up to Oxford street, where he lives and my late-night buses run. I was very lucky to be five minutes to the right side of the right bus, which comes ONCE AN HOUR at that time. I reread some Tom Disch stories on my way home, wandered through my neighborhood singing songs to take advantage of the awesome night-time acoustics, scrubbed vigorously at my face with a lemon scented wipe thing and collapsed into bed, where I stayed until midday. I fucking <3 my life right now.
Finally, go here and fight my weird sprite thing. They're adorable! STAB STAB STAB.
And an RTMI video from
drjon:
no subject
Unfortunately, I'm waiting for TweetDeck to load up, and it monopolizes IE's subsystems while it does that, so I can't play it in IE, and it's unsafe for me to play videos when I'm over 400 tabs (as I am at present) because it can crash FireFox. So I can't play the thing and know for sure for a bit.
But I don't think I posted that one.
can has subject
Date: 2009-04-21 10:05 pm (UTC)Gorgeous, though. Thanks for sharing!
Re: can has subject
Date: 2009-04-22 03:29 am (UTC)Re: can has subject
Date: 2009-04-22 03:36 am (UTC)Re: can has subject
Date: 2009-04-22 03:45 am (UTC)