It is fashionable to say "my truth is as valid as yours". But it's not true.

A day without Livejournal is like a power drill without ketchup.

Eric Hobsbawm in defence of history, from Saturday's Grauniad. Mark E Smith (uh) talks about Peel, among other things. And a little bit about the Curtis biopic (working title "Control", apparently). There are also mentions in the listings of Mapplethorpe and Goldsworthy exhibitions in London, which might be of interest to some of you, or even to me if I make it down that way. Alison Jacques gallery until the 12th of March and the Albion, SW11, until the 31st of March, respctively.

On Friday night I went to the pub (Hogshead then K Jackson's) with Sandy and Alex. Alex made us go back to his place so he could introduce us to his (lovely) cats, and then forced Sandy, at gunpoint, to experiment with his cello at two in the morning to annoy the neighbours. It's a lovely instrument. It sounds fantastic. Warm, rich, and woody. I'm sure the neighbours didn't appreciate the trumpet much, either. There was a long discussion about how to best crop one of his photos as well. A very good photo, too. Clearly he's too talented.

Yesterday, Andrew Lee came round, and it was great to see him. I haven't spoken to someone I was at school with for well over ten years. Billabong Oddyssey, unfortunately, didn't happen because it was only on late late late at night. Picked up the first UVS album (anyone know if TMS is about suicide or heroin?).

In the evening, I went first to the Monkey with Graham and Matt, then Opium (rather than the Mish) due to Caroline avoiding someone, although after a few games of pool it turned out she was actually in Sneaky Pete's the screaming queen bar that used to be Sneaky Pete's the vodka bar next door. Weirdness on getting home.

Addendum: the Observer in its infinite wisdom is also running an MES interview, here. 'Four fuckin' quid a pint,' he mutters, adding, 'Mick Hucknall owns this place', as if that explains everything, which maybe it does.
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A day without Livejournal is like a power drill without ketchup.

Never a truer word said.

Sneaky Pete's has gone? Ah well, it'll hardly be missed.

I liked it. It was probably past its best by the time you were here, anyway. A fine, fine pub in its day. With the best jukebox in Scotland.
That Hobsbawm piece was advertised as being an anti-pomo essay, but when I read it, that was a very small part of the text, and it's actually mainly an assertion that marxist history remains relevant.

I was a mused by the Bobby Gillespie story in the Smith interview. I mean, I've been reading stories about what happens if you try to go back stage after a Fall gig since 1982, and you'd have thought people would have more sense.
Indeed, and Indeed.

I included the heading about the essay because I liked it - I've had that argument with people. It got very silly.

We still have your PWEI ticket. We should meet some time to talk about transport and the like.

Can't belive it is this weekend - yikes.
Gosh. I didn't know it was so soon. Yes. I could drop round this week sometime?
Tonight? I'm supposed to be meeting the esteemed Mr Lee tomorrow for pint.
Well we should be in putting up shelves most of the evening, so when ever you are ready.