30/9/2002
I'm getting real psyched up for DJ Shadow on October 19 at Brixton Academy. This year alone he's been in London a couple of times already (Product Placement, first leg of album tour) but I never managed to catch any of his shows. And considering that my time in London is running out ever so quickly, it's now or never. Can't afford to miss out on the upcoming KAWS exhibition too.

Stuff on heavy rotation these past few weeks include Peanut Butter Wolf's Jukebox 45s, Beck's Sea Change, Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the Pixies' Surfer Rosa, Modest Mouse's The Lonesome Crowded West, Interpol's Turn On The Bright Lights and Daedelus' Invention. It's weird, I used to hate indie rock but nowadays I find myself listening to a lot more band-oriented music than producer-oriented ones. I'm just tired of having to dig deep for good hip-hop/experimental/dance/soul music and I've only just realised how much good indie rock there is which has always been on the surface, stuff that I never paid attention to for years. So forgive me for being a late-blooming Smiths fan.

The latest issue of Giant Robot features an interesting article on the latest fashion hype in Japan (which is probably out of date by the time you read this) - the manpurse. That's right, from now on all us dudes have the right to carry purses and be proud of it. Telling someone that you left your mobile in your purse no longer conjures up images of you holding onto your purse handles with two fingers at waist level while sashaying down the street to the rhythm of your high heeled shoes clicking against the sidewalk. Behold the manpurse!

Not.

Look, guys don't need purses cos we have pockets to put things in. Then again, if it doesn't make your bum and thighs look smooth enough in that pair of tight jeans you have, well, manpurse it is then. I still feel that it's one thing to get in touch with your feminine side; it's another to sling it over one shoulder and clipping it under your arms.

I think the Japanese kids' obsession with everything cool and trendy is just going to implode in on itself one of these days. Perhaps there'll come a point when they start ditching everything even remotely fashionable and restrict their shopping to second-hand stores and car boot sales. Everyone will be rocking the hobo look and Oxfam will be the new Bathing Ape. But until then, all hail the manpurse.

Oh yeah, and sisters suck.

17/9/2002
I've just been taught a bitter lesson about shopping at second-hand music stores on Berwick Street. Trawled through the racks at Reckless and came upon the Leaf sampler CD for £7.99, which I thought was a pretty good bargain so I bought it - only to find the same CD going for £4.99 at HMV later on. Darn.

Life on Edgware Road is pretty okay, save for the intermittent yuppie squabbling/sweet talk/(insert goosebump-inducing couple activity here). I pretty much have the whole flat to myself for the most part of the day when everyone else is off at work. Ideal for parties, hanging out or indulging in pre-marital naughtiness. Sadly, none of those ever take place.

I'm still not completely used to the odd little luxuries that come with moving into a proper flat. You know, small things like being able to listen to my music however loud I want. Every place that I've lived in the UK until now has always had really thin walls so I've always had people asking me to turn my volume down to 'acceptable' levels. I'm not the type who loves blasting my stereo anyway but the last time I took my decibel levels for granted, I ended up in a situation which could've lead to a showdown between the Chinese take-away communities in London and Leicester. I kid you not. Well, it wasn't as major as it sounds, but it was close. Anyway, that's a whole other story.

Check this out, from October's Spin. It's from an interview with Jennifer Love Hewitt:

"First off, I think it's really fucked up that you're suing the remaining members of Nirvana."

"What?"

"Never mind."

6/9/2002
I have successfully reconditioned myself back to normal sleeping hours. I've been waking up on my own at about ten every morning since I moved into my new place. Which is a big improvement, considering that I used to get up in the afternoons or early evenings for the best part of the last six months. Blame it on the 24/7 cable connection that I had. So it was a good thing to get off the net after all.

The new flat's kinda nice actually. Just one bus ride from HMV and Berwick Street. Heh. But if I still had classes to go to, it'd be a bit of a hassle to get to college and back. I'd have to take a combination of buses and tubes and it'll take about an hour to get to Holloway Road. Which I'm doing now anyway cos it's the only place where I can get my daily dose of the internet for free. I'll probably be doing this for at least the next two weeks until I get a phone line installed in the new flat.

Had a chat with Maehul when I bumped into him outside of college yesterday. Basically all we talked about was looking for a job, and the more I talk to people about it, the more miserable I get at the near impossibility of getting anything at all. On one hand, you've got people like Maehul who're experiencing the same difficulties as I am. On the other, you have those acquaintances who're engineers, bankers, accountants, doctors and lawyers who have work permits for the next five bloody years. Both are just as depressing to hear about as the other. Even more depressing was hearing about how a friend of mine got offered her web content developing job while hanging out in a bar on her own. Darn.

Right, I'm off to discover the next Napster-like phenomenon. Behold! Vacuum your flat through the internet! Wash your clothes with your mobile phone! Do your banking through your kitchen sink! I'm getting on to something here ...

1/9/2002
"All set and ready to go"

In my 3 years in England I've lived in two student halls. And both times, things magically stop working when it was time for me to move out. On the last day before I left Coventry while I was packing to head home for summer, the ceiling light in my room went bust, in a fashion nothing short of spectacular. I remember turning the switch on and hearing this loud, crackling noise. I quickly took my hand off the switch and stepped back - this wasn't a simple blown light bulb. The crackling went on for a whole minute and there were actually sparks emanating from - not the switch - but from the surface of the wall below the switch. It was like a little science fair light show for a while and soon after there was a loud pop, and the lights went out. The strangest part were the sparks on the surface of the wall; bricks and mortar aren't supposed to be conductive now, are they? The electric current must have been really strong to be able to do that. Perhaps there was a community of tiny people behind the wall with their own power distribution grid or something.

Anyway, I managed to blow another light bulb in my room today. It was the spotlight above the basin in my room. However, the Oscar this year for Best Electrical Appliance in a Dramatic Role goes to my printer. I was rushing to print the last few pages of my report when it decided to commit suicide. The poor guy decided that it wasn't worth it anymore, so he swallowed ten sheets of paper all at once. The rollers that hold the paper down gave way and mechanical parts started to defy gravity. This one spring even managed to blow the printer cover open, which was followed by a loud, "You fucking bitch!!! Arrghh!!" Thankfully David hadn't left home yet, so he printed out the remainder of my report for me. Well, you haven't heard how I blew up the electric shower in my old flat yet (which won the Oscar for Best Special Effects - smoke, sparks and blackened water).

I'll be moving outta here on Sunday morning and I will be devoid of any home internet access for at least the next two weeks. I'd probably still be able to check my e-mail in an internet café but I won't be updating my blog in a while. I don't use Blogger so that makes things a bit difficult. Not that it really matters whether or not I update, since it's only the, what, three of you who read my blog? For all I know, it could actually be a good thing to get off the net. It's time to find out what the world outside looks like again ("Are London buses still red? Ooh ... travelcard ...").

Oh, and by the way, check out my pics of Shadow here. Cheers to Joost for putting them up on his site.

So it's goodbye Holloway Road, and hello Edgware Road.