[leave.me.alone] IT'SNOTHINGSERIOUS

Both dressed in a plain black top, a pair of jeans and our Converses, Sarah and I stumbled out of the shit-mobile Mum had been given by the garage to drive while they fixed our people carrier. I was going to wear a pair of cut offs and Sarah a mini skirt, but it was sodding freezing and everyone else was in jeans so, like the sheep we are, we kept the denim.

"Um.... are you sure this is the right place?" Mum asked, eying the tiny venue and the handful of people gathering outside its doors.
"Yeah," was the reply, a hint being the massive letters spelling out LE KRAKATOA on one side of the building, although the giant metal words did nothing to reassure us. It just seemed like something was up. This would be the first experience of an amazing thing called small venues.

We waited... watched people go past... The queue picked up pretty quickly, and soon all sorts of stylish looking teens and middle aged English people were piling up behind us.

As we filed in, after a quick stop in the dodgy toilets (the one I used had a broken flush; it got your arse all wet until you put paper down it, at which point it would refuse to flush entirely) and a brief look over the shirts, we found the entrance and...

"WOAH!" It was so small! We were so close to the stage, I could actually see their shoes and everything.

After a beer on an empty stomach my head was spinning, and due to the long queue forming before the bar, I didn't go to complete the feeling, so we waited for some time, until the room slowly started to fill out and the support act, Good Shoes (the guitarist had, ironically enough, hideous clinical white clogs on), came on to do their thing. The drummer, bassist and guitarist (the one that didn't sing, and had THOSE shoes) were pretty hot, the singer less so. But still a rock "star" nonetheless...

The next part sucks, because all of the tech-dudes come on to change the equipment for THE band, and this is when we just started to chat to people around us. There was the girl to my right, who we talked to about the popularity of bands in France and in England, and how it's totally different. She was with these guys, and this tall one with dark hair did this weird eyebrow thing to me. Note: this was before I started getting hot and sweaty and generally smelly. And then the English guy and woman behind us, who had pints and tried to give some to this cute baby emo (well, I say baby.... he was about 14) but he refused because he was with his dad. I had a plan to steal one of their basses when none of them were looking, and then hide it in my pocket and make a sneeky getaway. Needless to say, this plan failed.

When they came on, there was that screaming noise, still as piercing even though we were only a few hundred. And then, to my right, the mosh pit was forming, so I just went for it and lost Sarah for half of the thing. I almost had my arm mangled when I got it stuck in the crowd between a few people, all moving in different directions, but this hot guy with an arm cast and a girlfriend saved it. <3

Near the end, I was near the front, right next to that cute little emo boy that I mentioned earlier, and I noticed how HIGH he could jump, so I decided to try to jump higher. That's when I took someone's foot in the back of my head. I wanted to cry beccause it really hurt, and I was starting to get really tired, what with the jumped and the headbanging and the general moshing in a crowd full of people taller and stronger than me. But, no real damage done. Nothing there to damage, anyway.

After the show, when everyone was starting to leave, this guy bent down and picked up this guitar pick from the floor. "Putaaaaiiiin! Mais t'as eu son mediator, quoi!" I cried at him, and started to consider how much he wanted for it. OK, I had no cash. But I can pay anyway. I'm pretty =D

I didn't know all of the songs, and I never really was a big fan of their stuff (it all sounds the same and the songs always have that weird screaming crescendothing going on); but they put on a good show! They really looked like they enjoyed it, and Ricky crowd surfed twice. I touched him once, like, on his thigh. OK, I know how wrong that sounds, but I don't care!



CONCLUSION: I would highly recommend you to see them live because it's good. And I'm not even a fan as such.

I'm here, sitting in the middle (I can't stand the middle, I'm on view) of the computer room at school, surrounded by people I don't know but whose faces I recognise, feeling strange about life.

I'm currently being envelopped by the beautiful that is a John Frusciante demo (Song to Sing When I'm Lonely), slightly worried about what the guy next to me will think if I start crying suddenly.

Feeling reflective about life in general, in the most optimist way possible, and wondering to myself where we're all going. Why we're all so fucked up. Why we make such a fuss over the Pope dying while a homeless young being, his or her whole life thrown away, dies so close to us.

How the very clothes I'm sitting in right now are the product of an underpaid Chinese sweat-shop worker's blood and sweat.

We're all human, we're all in this thing called 'life' together, regardless of skin colour, gender, cultural differences, personal tastes; whatever! I'm still naive enough to keep on asking anyone willing to listen, in desperation, why we can't all just get along?

"Because the world doesn't work like that."

And they're right. We'll continue exploiting one another, bombing the shit out of one another, hating one another for one hell of a long time.

This morning, as I lay in my bed thinking about waking up, I started thinking about the amazing advantages that time travel has to offer (if it existed, that is).

Once I befriend azony scientist, I will steal his amazing time machine and I will first go back to the time before Microsoft. Using the money I would have taken from a modern day bank loan, I would buy a few thousand worth of shares in Mr Gates' company, and then I'll return to the modern day to be a millionaire.

And then my REAL time adventures start with my new found money. I'll go on a shopping trip throughout history!

Dirst I go back to the beginning of the Converse company, and I buy me an original pair! Oh, fuck it, I'll buy about ten. And then I'll buy several Fender Strats from way back, in all sorts of colours, and then I'll have some fun.

I'll track down the venues of my favourite band's first gigs and I'll go and see them in a tiny place, and then get to meet them afterwards. They'll sign said Converses and Fenders. I'll go and see Nirvana <3 Wow. That would rock.

Then I'll come back to the modern day with my hoarde of AMAZING shoes and instruments (yeah... I'll get me a few basses too, thinking about it) and dump them in my big house for safe keeping while I go exploring the future and the past. I may also collect signatures from Hitler and Stalin and the like to wow people in the modern day. I may also buy something really snazzy from the future. Like a spaceship, or just a really shiny jet pack.

And I'll still go back to concerts and things, to get more signatures and meet more rock stars (yes, yes I'm a groupie at heart).

I'd be extremely tempted to go back and stop Hitler, but if the Back to the Future trilogy taught me anything, it's that you mustn't change the future!

Mike told Matthieu (who I will someday name Mafiouuu. Yes, I will. It will be his cute adorable nickname hahaha).

And I swear that today he was WATCHING me while I was sitting on the edge of the road with Nuf and Stinkend Arsch, getting my shoes and arse all dusty in the dirt, and occasionally falling over because I do that a lot. And, yes, I was sitting down while I fell over. I really have no balance whatsoever.

It makes my stomach go flipping like a trained flea circus. I get the feeling that he and his friends are all staring at me, trying to get a good view of my face and then possibly giving me a 'hot' rating out of ten. (I say all this because we do it to people that are romantically interested in a friend) They may also be having an extremely vicious conversatino about the size of my backside and how horribly I dress, or that my boobies are really big and I must be a tart.

Or they may be talking about how they can't believe that that extremely attractive girl from that weird place, where people wear big furry hats outside of the Queen's palace, who looks very interesting and funny as well as strikingly intelligent is interested in him, because she could do a little better.

Or they may think that I look like a nice enough person with a well balanced personality and qualities that equal each other out. They may be talking about how I'm neither too fat, nor too thin and I'm pretty enough.

They may be saying he should go for it.

They may be saying that he shouldn't go for it, because SECRETLY they want to STEAL HIM FROM ME. OK, he's not mine (yet), but whatever.

Or they may just be saying, "Jesus, I wish that girl with her would move, I can't see her properly!"


And I swear they WERE looking at me. As I walked past them I was going mad gripping my hands because it really just encourages my paranoia to feel as though I'm being observed and judged.




....And I reckon my 'hot note' should be pretty damned high.

(please note: I don't actually have a photo of all of us together; we were too busy randomly attacking one another with Katy's camera)


Haha, fun!

We totally raided Jennyfer, and I swear the shop assistants HATED US. Just because we know how to have fun in shops, pff. We're potential clients! We must be treated with utmost respect! (this can be seen in the photo, yeaaaahhh)

Then I finally met Meg AKA Strawberry and her boyfriend, who has very big hair. He doesn't like Muse or Foo Fighters, but he likes Nirvana and the Chilis, so two out of four isn't so bad. Strawberry rocks. Period. Dunno if they liked me that much, but I think they rocked, despite her boyfriend being a packaging-collecting nutter.