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| photo taken by a guy called David Emery who I found on flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/davidemery/ |
When I first decided to move to London I was fifteen. The decision, responsible for my near financial ruin, was made based entirely on a ridiculous vision I had of myself living a life consisting completely of going to fantastic gigs in dank basements and running around a kind of Dickensian dream world populated by freaks and people with interesting fringes (no-one in my hometown had an interesting fringe - this was the bane of my life when I was fifteen).
I then actually moved to London and now spend a great deal of my time becoming incensed by almost everything about it. I am the sort of person who will trample the tourists on Westminster Bridge as they're trying to take photos of a mere seat of democracy. I never go to gigs because London has made me hate people, and gigs are full of people. Occasionally, usually when I am trying to fashion a fringe out of my very mediocre hair, my fifteen year old self will whisper very condescending things in my ears whilst noticing sadly that the piercings in their lobes have healed up.
On Sunday, my fifteen year old self briefly shut up and was satisfied. A very cool friend of mine got us guestlist places for the last night of the Magnetic Zeroes' tenure at the Old Vic tunnels. Having seen a solo Alexander Ebert gig a few weeks previously, I already knew the evening was going to be pretty damn good. It turned out to be probably one of the best gigs I've been to.
