I had intended for my next update to be a brief review of the BRMC gig. The review would be complete with lacklustre photographs and frequent use of words such as "volatile". In my dizzy and optimistic state, I thought that I would be able to complete this review within half an hour of returning from the Academy and have posted it by the early hours of the next morning for you people to yawn over, but needless to say this was not the case. For now, a dull account of a dull week will suffice.
This week I mostly dislike: people. Not my friends. Obviously. But PEOPLE. Ever have those moments were you can't stand the things? Last night at Stairways, for example, was the Upton Hall Invasion. Now, I've nothing against people from my school going to that shithole every once in a while, but this was ridiculous. Everywhere I turned was a grinning, bobbing, oh-so-familiar face with blonde hair plastered to either side of it, screeching hysterically and having so much fun it could barely contain itself. Understand that these bobbing faces belonged to girls who had, only three months previously, expressed sheer terror at the very mention of the word "Stairways", confessing fears that they would be far too intimidated ever to go near the place on account of not wanting their carcasses used as playthings during a Satanic moshpit. Understandable, you might say. Less understandable was the fact that any time any of the earnest eyes peering from these cheery skulls fell onto mine, I would be gawped at ('Nice tights' *snigger*) for a couple of minutes before receiving the obligatory reminder that my mother works in their school.
'Hi Orla, how are you, your mum hates me, you know!'
'I see.'
There's not a lot you can reply to that. Nevertheless, it was nice to see the place so packed for a change, looked like a fun place to be. I'm so thankful I don't go regularly anymore. They say that "alternative" hang-outs such as Stairways and the Courts are places where looks don't matter and everybody is accepted, but to me, they're the most aesthetic places imaginable. Appearance is everything. Every haircut, outfit, bracelet, shoelace seems to be planned in meticulous detail (don't be fooled by the old "couldn't give a fuck" stance), and relationships are discarded as quickly as Big Chris' battle stories. Even the friendship groups rotate continuously, because they can. There are so many people around that you don't have to stay with any one person long enough to finish a conversation - you get bored, you can walk straight over to the next group. After all, by the time the alcohol has left you squirming on the floor in agony, you aren't going to remember anyone's name or face.
There were good points to the evening, though - I finally got to see the infamous "Wanky Boy" mosh, a sight to behold on account of him playing air guitar like. . . like he's having a wank, yeah. Random Ste and Random Mike turned up in Santa/gorilla outfits, and the hideous staffroom type furniture is less noticeable now that they've added weird coloured lights downstairs.
Right now I am listening to:
The Coral - 'Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker'. If 'The Coral' was your psychedelic stoner mate from down the road whisking you away on a magical tour of Hoylake, then 'Magic & Medicine' is its more decrepid, wordly-wise grandfather slipping a Werthers Original into your outstretched palm*. If 'Magic & Medicine' was a Werthers Original, then 'Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker' is like one of those times when ol Grandpa ran out of Werthers and you had to settle for a Victory V pastel instead. Only more fun. Sort of. Can't fault its attractive purple packaging, at any rate.
* not having a grandfather, I am basing my viewpoint entirely on examples of heartwarming television :| |
