st_pauls

Graffiti on City Road...

Walking down the road on Sunday after a fun guitar playing session at my bass player's house, I spot the 3vil one for the first time since The Troubles. We are going to have to walk right past her! Watch out, I say, there's the 3vil psycho bitch From Hell. She is humming to herself, doo-doo-doo and after we pass, the humming changes pitch and I imagine her turning around and pulling faces. I keep straight on walking. I have every right to be here, I am right, she is wrong. She was always wrong. Search for "3vil One" and you will see the full story. Still, my legs are shaking and the adrenaline is pumping as I struggle to get the keys in the lock.

This was the first time since she was screaming at me in the street (see above link) and I guess it's a moment I've had nightmares about ever since, what will she say? She thinks I got her sacked, she HATES me! Thankfully, we survived like grownups. I'm ignoring you P~~~~~~. You see, I always knew this day would come. Now that I know how she'll behave, this distasteful chapter of my life will close. I never have to work with or near her ever again and I don't have to be where she is, thank God.

The St Pauls Carnival is a testament to how you don't really need organisation and careful planning if you get enough people together who are determined to have a good time. With big speakers. It is part competition of soundsystems to shake the foundations of the Inner City and part BBQ/fried/jerk chicken-rice&peas price-off. Oh and that most despicable of foods, ackee and saltfish (retch).

As the organisation of the wonderful event is traditionally rife with egos, mock racism, poor organisation, exodus of key members combined with a fear of all things new and inclusive, it is an annual surprise that Carnival goes on at all. Their brief programme has an introduction claiming victory over a year of 'backbiting' and adversity, which usually means people have told them they should make it better and then left when got shut out. There was nothing on for the kids this year for this reason. They just couldn't be bothered to sort something out, preferring instead to milk the public's pity for the terrible trials that they go through (when you're an insular histrionic quasi-racist over-pc tiny group of individuals), nobody loves me everybody hates me that's why I eat worms.

Anyway, like I said. It's amazing that despite all of this, we all go and still have a great time. About half the stalls have disappeared since last year, just chicken and bright furry things and whistles, oh the whistles...

Down by the Star and Garter we sit, watching the people and the occasional band, some good, some mediocre. The stone circle here seems to be where all the 'white folks' are banished to as it is a very monochromatic, albeit happy environment. I am coerced into taking a furtive photo of someone I am assured is going out with Demi Moore. He catches me and we are treated to some drunken rambling about being on the telly but are still none the wiser as to who the hell he is.

Back on the main stage, the young girls are showing off their hiphop dancing skills, there is some horrible RnB and a very touching feature by three very little girls who sing to us and have a hilarious on-stage fight to raucous cheering. I run away in search of some drum and bass loud enough to shatter my internal organs, warmed by the general goodwill that's around today and the fact that I've only seen a couple of scarey people and they're my friends.

Old Spider is still down there, and the Black and White is missing, having been finally ripped down to be replaced by some nice houses for anyone who doesn't mind living opposite the area's most notorious squatter.

Sadly though, the usual nastyness follows, doing the event's reputation no good at all.

My Photos will be available on my Flickr page very soon

Working from home. Attempting to translate such joys as:

15 orgsensations woe is attendance from a variety fancy centre... the meeting faked an agenda...

Greatly gave seed back on some tranny that sore digestion and puton for some clientale... (it gets better)

?800 left for tranny on a first served first come basis

Reported last month about dead birth and malifistation in garden...

This last has me completely confused. Where the others are wilful misreading of poor handwriting, this is what he actually wrote! I'm guessing he means 'dead bird' and 'infestation' of pigeons, given what I recall of the 24th April 2003 and the foibles of the person who wrote it. It's funny how small things can remind you of conversations and even the events of a whole day. A useful skill to have sometimes, but I worry about how much of my memory it used up with this shit. How many good thing's I've forgotten so I can remember some dead pigeon that the caretakers wouldn't pick up.

Having joined Unison, to try and cover my ass when the 3vil one was trying to destroy me in my old job, I was mortified to receive a letter from them telling me it was my duty as a Unison member to vote Labour. It's all about
the name these days, I mean they're not really Labour anymore, are they? Tony wears a BLUE TIE on the news, for fuck's sake. One of my friends said I have to get involved and make them change if I care so much about it. Fair point, I'll shut up.

As the Cult Called Karianna Saga dies down a bit, I met a guy yesterday who's trying to book them a gig in Bristol to which he is going to invite a lot of bouncer mates... I'll leave the rest up to you. I don't think they'll be oming back. The war of words was okay, no-one really one - how much can you win with neanderthals - but doing the same thing to them won't acheive anything. In fact, it might give them some sympathy. What they need is no publicity at all.

Watched Ralph Bakshi's Coonskin yesterday at the Animated Encounters festival at the Watershed. About life, racism, gangs and killin' in Harlem in the 70's. It's a great film with some extremely powerful images. A lot of people hate his animation and childish style, but it only serves to give it more impact. Must have been really shocking back then. I give this film a 2+.

Then went on to look at goth girls in the Bierkeller, where I stayed for approximately ten minutes before disappearing off to dance to drum and bass somewhere else. That was better. Now with a headache, I'm heading back to the Watershed for more cartoons. On the agenda is some workshops on doing animations (not for me, you understand, I'm no cartoonist - for my bro who is: Unlikely Productions) and lots of short films.