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[Feb. 25th, 2005|12:57 am] |
Massive apologies to anyone who took my advice and went to the We Skullfucked Pikachu gig tonight. It was an absolute disaster of unparalleled proportions. Let's run through what went wrong:
Jam the Drummer: Pissed, or at least tipsy. I didn't notice anything, but Kit complained after the set. Speaking of...
Kit the Lead Guitarist: Completely in a world of his own. Playing his own rhythms, changing rhythms through the duration of the songs, making keeping up with him an impossibility.
My guitar lead: Kept cutting out to the point where I had no sound. I gave up and walked off for a pint.
My microphone: Didn't work - which is something of a relief since I botched the words to America : Fuck Yeah! rather badly.
At least Rory can use the footage of me storming off to get a pint, and the changing of the drummers, in his mockumentary - about the only thing salvagable from the gig.
Again, I'm so sorry, everyone. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 24th, 2005|05:05 pm] |
Before we start:
TONIGHT: We Skullfucked Pikachu + Raging Fuck Death + Clunge Slop + some dude called Ollie + Stripy playing the wheels of plastic
7pm, The Marquee, ONE POUND ENTRY
I will be very unhappy if at least half the Norwich people on my friends list do not make this. Also, I will give them whatever a Clunge Slop is.
Practice yesterday was... OK. The first half an hour was pretty good, but in 3 hours the sum total of songs we had lasted a grand total of 12 and a half minutes. So, expect tons of fucking around, fucking up, and the legendary We Skullfucked Pikachu made-up-on-the-spot jamming. And maybe some violence. And Naked Bill. Rory is still bringing a camera anyway, so it shall be recorded for posterity. One last thing - we have a very special cover in mind - anyone who has seen Team America: World Police, you must hear it...
So, onto today. Does anyone remember my infamously terrible attempted interaction with "Somerfield emo girl" last year? Click this if you don't. Weeeell... it happened again. Different words, different situation, different girl, same result of me looking like a total berk. Proof, if ever it were needed, that a) I don't learn and b) I am hilariously hopeless. The following seminar seemed to go by in a haze of "God I'm so fucking stupid". There was a jobs fair afterward in the LCR, and it was the biggest waste of a small amount of my time ever. The businesses at the fair were split into 3 categories:
- Voluntary work/charities (yeah, like I want to graduate with massive debts in order to earn nothing)
- Temp agencies that I can register for online anyway
- Utterly inappropriate employers - a countryside hotel was one of the more staggeringly stupid and unsurprisingly ignored.
Stripy, Jam and Hobsy have just left for The Marquee. I will be there for about 7 - see you all there! |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 23rd, 2005|01:14 pm] |
Has it really been a week since my last update? More to the point, has anyone even noticed or cared?
As you may have noticed, it has been snowing fairly heavily lately. This was especially true overnight, as I have looked out of my window to find several inches has settled upon the ground. So, I ask you all - am I the only person utterly uneneamoured by it? I mean, it's a bastard cross between cold rain and dandruff, it soaks you and makes homeless people die of hypothermia - why is that a good thing? Snowmen, you say? Oh yeah, great, row upon row of hideously deformed people who would have been burned at a stake if they were born into reality like that - like Edmund's offspring. I have to make it to band practice today through the damned stuff, not to mention tomorrow's gig at the Marquee. Oh, and speaking of...
Monday night at The Riverbank, eating tons of chinese food for Suzanne's birthday, and Kit, Ian and I get into a short conversation about tomorrow's gig. We complain about our lack of equipment (easy there), and suggest it may be necessary to cancel the gig. Which Kit takes to mean as "the gig is definitely off and I must now tell Ross". Ross reschedules his week, and we are suddenly down to one vocalist. So if you're wondering why me and Bill are alternating on vocals tomorrow, and Ross isn't there, that's why. Blame Kit. It's his fault and he deserves a kicking.
'Twas some weekend though. An enjoyable Chains, aside from incidents which I wasn't privy to but sounded somewhat insane, brought crashing back to Earth by the kind of hangover the next day that makes you think you've been hit in the head with a shovel repeatedly. I woke up early especially to avoid Hubbman, the stayaway landlord, but fate decided to shit on me; I was about to leave the house when I saw it was snowing. "Screw this," thought I, and read a little until it stopped. When it did, I opened the door to leave... only to find said landlord waiting on the doorstep. Damn... Though I did leave Stripy to deal with him a couple of minutes later, dishevelled, unwashed and hardly awake - bwahahaha.
Sunday. House party. I'm sure some events passed (I vaguely remember chasing some girls around the house when the Benny Hill theme was playing if that's of any help) and plenty of pictures taken. Go find them. Followed up by another massive hangover the next day - I hope this isn't a sign of me getting old, I really do...
Lest I remind you again - We Skullfucked Pikachu + Raging Fuck Death + random antics, this Thursday, The Marquee. 7.30 doors, ?1 entry, you have no excuses not to be there. And if you go to the LCR instead I will hunt you down and cut you. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 16th, 2005|10:16 pm] |
For any of you interested in my life/random stuff about an essentially unimportant person, I finally got my site working up at IanBuck.com. I put a second short story on there as well, although it doesn't work for me - but does for others - something to fix when I can be bothered, methinks.
So much stuff still to be done for next week - lest I remind you what it's all in aid of...
( Modem-raping flyer under cut )
Be there. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 12th, 2005|06:26 pm] |
Drew, of 'Draw With Drew' fame, says:
God has made many amazing creatures. One of the best has got to be the beaver.
Of all the random quotes to find in a Salvation Army childrens' magazine. Proof that religious cults are teaching our children filth and smut from an early age, and so the whole world should be atheist. It's the only way to keep kids safe!
Said magazine also included the only comic I can ever recall that actually had no punchline. None at all, not even a punchline so horrendously unfunny it made you want to tear off your face that the author even got work in the first place; just no punchline. I feel sad that I left it in the pub now - oh curses.
May I now take this opportunity to express my absolute mortification and severe anger at the impromptu closure of The Fugitive/The Lawyer. As The Fugitive, it was a bloody good pub, with cheap alcohol and mostly good music, plenty of punters and a good atmosphere. As The Lawyer, it had better, though more expensive, beer, and while not as good, it was still as good a place as any to while away a Monday evening with friends. Now it has been shut, the staff sacked (without any notice - surely this is illegal) and it will return in April as an 'upmarket pub'. Bollocks - they just want overspill from the Wetherspoons opposite, and the types that frequent that particular drinking establishment are about as upmarket as a bowel movement - the human equivalent of the act of squatting over a sewer drain. All about profits, and it won't work - people who came back to The Lawyer, few as they were, won't go to whatever this place turns out to be, and it'll close unceremoniously within months as it fails to take the punters away from the J.D. Wetherspoon conglomerate. They lose money, which is good, because they've taken one of the few 'alternative' pubs left in Norwich. Which ones have fallen by the wayside since I've been here?:
The Cricketers' Rest: The original. Taken over during the Summer of my first year, and haven't been back since.
The Catherine Wheel: Took over the goth and metal nights from The Cricketers', and all was going exceedingly well... until a cocksure collective of 40 or so pock-ridden cuntwads calling themselves ATL showed up to beat the (either brave or very stupid) punters on a weekly basis, until said nights got taken away. Now, amusingly enough, a gay pub - wonder how the Abortions That Lived like that one?
The Fugitive: Place of my Monday night drinking for the whole summer, now sadly gone.
We're now left with The Marquee - well, until another bunch of bikers come to trash the place and assault the landlord and family - and The Ferryboat. Not the greatest pubs in the land by anyone's stretch of the imagination, and with overpriced booze to boot. The toilets in The Marquee, especially, deserve some special mention - the urinals aren't so much urinal cubicles, as a wall you have to piss against. It's as grisly as it sounds.
My roots are coming through horribly, but I've been banned from dying my hair until the landlord has visited, on pain of Stripy and Ad depositing their fecal matter in the front room and forcing me to clean it up. Oh, did I not mention? I successfully managed to spend a good part of the day in the city doing nothing in particular, only to be informed that Mr Hubbard had not called round. What a jackass. So, presumably, he'll turn up tomorrow at 9am, with myself and Ad nursing potentially destructive hangovers, possibly in a foul mood because I've been unable to clean the last of the gunk from my window, and evicting us on the spot after we turn down his advances. And also because we've done a good job of destroying his house, but that's of no consequence.
Wine and Waterfront tonight. No pub crawl due to a severe wallet deficiency. Also: drinking wine is a surefire way to get you crawling - pub crawls, ironically, are not. See you there Norwich types! |
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| In your darkest time, it's just enough to know it's there |
[Feb. 11th, 2005|06:36 pm] |
Not that you'll ever see it, but my room is actually approaching "clean". For the first time since I moved in, I think. I even had a mostly-fruitless attempt at cleaning my window - infamous throughout Norwich for the rotten gunk that has collected on it throughout my tenancy. What has caused this amazing change in my attitude towards hygiene?
The landlord visits tomorrow.
We've been reasonably lucky in terms of landlord visits here, in spite of everything going wrong or breaking, but now we must face the music and present the house to him. Egads. Wish us luck.
My hands smell of Flash liquid and rubber gloves. Kinky or gross - tell me which.
This weekend is unnecessarily busy. Tonight I'm out to The Mischief for Lex's birthday shindig, and tomorrow Deviant Soc have arranged something of a mini-crawl; usually, you'd have a hard time stopping me from drinking myself under the table after about the third alcohol hole, but I have neither the money nor the compulsion to do so this time around. Besides which, it leaves no time for my two weekend rituals - getting takeaway pizza, and getting pissed on wine in front of Black Books with Ad. Classy times, classy guys. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 6th, 2005|09:29 pm] |
Welcome back to Norwich. Please leave all reading materials and comprehendable accents on the train; they are neither welcome nor necessary here.
Now I've used up my stupid-statement allowance for this entry, let me get to the crux. Rammstein was utterly spafftacularly brilliant. Their music may be essentially simple, but they rock like monkeys, and have the greatest stage show ever - the set looked like it had come straight out of a bad big budget sci-fi movie, and the fire! Oh the fire, and the fireworks, and the smoke plumes - it was an amazing, if utterly suffocating, experience. Well worth the high cost of the ticket and the roundabout way of getting home in the safest way possible; paranoid, me? You fucking betcha.
The night before, the family and myself had gone to a restaurant named The Dining Room in Reigate, for my brother's 18th birthday. I voluntarily tied my hair back, not realising how bad it looked - my brother, kind as ever, described it as "IT salesman", which frankly is never a good thing. How will I get employed?!? Anyway, yes, this place; UK Pizza Parlour this ain't. The archetypal Surrey rich-ass-motherfucker still exists, and The Dining Room is where he eats. The food was utterly amazing, the wines delicious, the Swedish waitress even more so, and the bill was obscene. I couldn't stop laughing at how contrived it all was - I'm not used to anything so formal where you're afraid to even laugh. I'll take the food, but give me Eddie Izzard for some in-meal cabaret - for that money, I deserve it. Thank you.
With the exception of the Megadeth folk, it doesn't sound like I missed a particularly great weekend in this fair city. See, you all need me to function properly. Oh yes you do.
Random idea of the weekend: Dan, calling round before we had to go to the restaurant, has come up with a serious proposal about setting up a bookshop when we've finished our degrees. He's hiring a sexy assistant, so I get one too - any volunteers? And can you even start to imagine how great a bookshop me and Dan run would be? CAN YOU? HUH? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 4th, 2005|12:54 am] |
LoWeStOfT RuDe BoIz is actually the greatest website in the world. Nothing can beat it. Not shovel-loads of hardcore pornographic movies, not a collection of unreleased Pumpkins songs, nothing. This site can make you smile for hours, maybe days - before you realise what an awful state the education of the masses is in for something like this to even exist.
Seminar got cancelled - not until after I arrived on campus sniffling though - so it's been a real lazy day for yours truly. Bit of a rush tomorrow, what with trains, bank dealings and all sorts to deal with, before family meal and Rammstein on Saturday.
Have a good weekend y'all! |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 2nd, 2005|11:48 pm] |
To anyone who's not doing anything Thursday or Friday night this week; go and see A Day In The Death Of Joe Egg at the UEA Drama Studio. I've just come back from there, and it left me utterly drained. In the best possible way. The acting is nothing short of superb, as befits a twisted script dripping in pathos, and I can't say anything more other than, especially in the second half, it will suck you in and drop you, stunned and barren, outside. Engrossing, hilarious, upsetting - the best 3.50 you're likely to spend this semester. I haven't been that affected by a play in my whole life. See it.
Well, more good news:
- Debit card is waiting for me at my local (ie home) branch of the bank. Thanks for not telling me guys...
-... at least I got some money out, and was able to "do" Ross Day...
-... and I found the ever elusive copy of Closer by Patrick Marber. Some may know that it has been made into a film starring Jude Law, Nathalie Portman et al - methinks it will be horribly Hollywood-ised. Not as twisted as Neilson, but certainly not especially mainstream.
- Saw aforementioned play with Jess.
Got a nasty rail replacement service on my way back to Naaarch on Sunday, in a rickety old bus all the way from London to Witham... Witham?!? Where the fuck is that?!?
Rammstein and my brother's birthday meal to look forward to though - I'm hoping to fit in some Croydon-based socialising too, but it may well be utter chaos, so accept my apologies if not.
G'night. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 1st, 2005|10:52 pm] |
Today, Ian has:
- No money: final five pound note was spent on photocopying The D Word because the society printers were broken, and final pound coin was stolen by a machine which then chucked out a Snickers which I didn't ask for and despise. My cash card has stopped working for some reason, and there is no replacement at home, so I am, for all intents and purposes, completely broke.
- Gotten flu: just what I need, huh?
- Received no word from my tutor about the reading for Thursday's seminar. It's all a bit moot if I have to buy a book anyway, but there was no handout waiting for me to read. What's the damn point?
- Had to leave the bar within half an hour of turning up due to no money, no room, no drink, inability to hear people and being stricken by the damned illness.
- Forgotten to arrange a meetup with Sarah for Rammstein on Saturday. Well done me.
All in all, I'd say I've had quite a shit day. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 1st, 2005|12:25 pm] |
*Phone rings. Display shows mystery number*
Me: Uuuhm, heeello?
Person: Where are you?
Me: Uuuhm, at home?
Person: Oh, right, I was just wondering if you wanted to come down the bar?
Me: Well, I'm not even dressed or anything yet, and I'm only coming onto campus later to sort out The D Word with Sarah...
Person: No, it's OK. I won't see you tonight because I'm going to Laserquest, but I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?
Me: Sure, yeah.
Person: Bye byeeeee...
*End of call*
*Pause*
Me: (to self) Who the hell just called me?
True story.
Edit: It was Jess. She'll probably hate me now for not recognising her and thinking it was actually Rachel using someone else's phone. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 31st, 2005|07:57 pm] |
What a day:
- Woke up after 2 hours or so sleep on a sofa 3 feet wide. Left leg cramped for the whole of the day.
- Struggled through first seminar of the day before O'D-ing on caffeine in The Blend and getting caffeine jitters.
- Botching my presentation so badly that my seminar leader corrected me several times and I felt exceptionally stupid.
I just know it can get worse. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 30th, 2005|09:04 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Jimmy Eat World - Futures | ] |
( Shameful evidence that I was at the 'Australian Beach Party' on Friday night... )
Friday: Graham came down to fair Naaarich, and revealed he was going to the Australian Beach Party in the LCR. Knowing how bad these things normally are, I was loathe to go, until an extremely bored Adam moaned at me long enough to make me comply. We have, incidentally, precious few 'beach' clothes, so did our best with his 3/4 length trousers and random t-shirts. Consequently, we walked onto campus with extremely cold chicken legs on display - never again.
We had a few drinks in Vickie's kitchen beforehand, while at some point being disturbed by her troglodyte housemates throwing stuff at each other and listening to truly terrible garage music. But yes, equipped with Australian flag playing cards, we got to the LCR...
... And it really is as bad as I remember. Music-wise, anyway. At least the beer was cheap for club prices. But it was about as Australian as Wayne Rooney - tempting as it was to request AC/DC or Silverchair, I somewhat doubted the DJ would have that. Instead of an Australian tinge to the music, it just seemed like the same old stuff, with some cheesey (non-Australian) songs thrown in. A number of the Deviant contingent were present - that doesn't actually surprise me, really, since they're mostly piss-heads, and it was an excuse to get drunk if nothing else. Still, shame on them.
Graham and Vickie left, Adam wandered off, and so I spent the last hour mostly chatting with Richie, who revealed he reads this journal. I guess I should expect it really. Daisy randomly came and talked to/at us, gushing about how 'great' my short story was and how glad she was that I'd bought IanBuck.com. Don't worry Daisy, my chronicling of this story in a public access journal is in no way revealing your exploits to the world, so fear not.
Then back home, in the cold. Never again. Well, except on Thursday, but more on that later...
Saturday: The usual Wraith-y goodness following a very nothing day. Well, apart from myself and Adam drinking a bottle of wine each in front of Black Books and Friends - Bernard Black has nothing on us. The 'front was devoid of several regulars, and Graham, for reasons not needed here, but it was still OK. OK, nothing more, nothing less.
Today: To Ross' in a bit, after I've finished this work. Or at least tried to - I hate presentations with an absolute passion.
So that's it. Strolling around the city on Friday, I was confronted with a barrage of reminders about Valentine's Day. What a crock of shit. While an extended rant about it may be in particularly poor taste and judgment with recent events, I genuinely dislike it.
Buy an ill-thought out, rushed and horribly tacky and tasteless present for your special someone or you will DIE ALONE
Left, right, centre, above, below, within. This is where I end the rant, before it gets crazy and I upset people. Sorry.
Rumble. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 27th, 2005|07:20 pm] |
From the BBC:
Sex movie mix-up shocks couple
A devout Baptist couple who bought a Doris Day DVD from a supermarket were shocked to find a sex film instead.
Alan and Anne Leigh-Browne, from Wellington, Somerset, had been expecting to enjoy The Pajama Game.
Instead they were confronted by Italian sex film - Tettone che Passione, which translates Breasts, What a Passion.
"Some topless young women appeared and started talking in Italian... it's not what you expect from a Doris Day film," Mr Leigh-Browne said.
Retired doctor Mr Leigh-Brown, 67, said he picked up the film, which was sealed in plastic wrapping, for ?2.99 from the bargain bin of a Safeway supermarket in Taunton.
No 'plot'
The couple, regular attendees at their local Baptist church, settled down with a cup of tea to watch the 1957 musical which has a U (universal) certificate.
"It was a pretty raunchy, explicit film, it certainly pulled no punches," Mr Leigh-Browne said.
"My wife and I were very shocked but we watched it until the end because we couldn't believe what we were seeing.
"The film became progressively more graphic, there was no plot to it, it was just sex."
Alan and his wife Anne, 60, a retired teacher, complained to Safeway the next day and all copies of The Pajama Game were removed from the store.
OK, two things:
1) ?2.99 for a porno DVD is awesomely cheap
2) If there was no plot to it, "just sex", why did you watch it to the end? I bet I know why, you dirty fuckers, the exact same reason I'd watch it to the end. Didn't it twig when a topless young woman introduced the thing? Did you turn round and go "My my, Doris Day must have been very young when she did this..."
I know they complained but the question is... did they take it back?
Old people + technology + bins = recipe for trouble. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 27th, 2005|03:08 pm] |
Quick and snappy money shots:
- Purchased IanBuck.com last night in a fit of randomness as a place to stick my short stories and, hopefully when completed, songs I'm currently writing for the oft-delayed EP I've been planning since before Christmas. Besides, if by chance I get any form of notoriety in the future, I've safeguarded my good name - ha!
- Does anyone want to come and see A Day In The Death Of Joe Egg at the UEA Drama Studio next week? I saw a BBC4 production of it, starring Eddie Izzard among others, a while ago, and it's a seriously brilliant play. Come on, you know you want a bit of high culture in your life.
- We finally have toilet paper! Probably a bit too much information there...
- Having heard the We Skullfucked Pikachu demos Kit recorded, I can only feel sorry for whoever is going to drum for us...
All of the above leads me to believe I need a hobby that isn't Championship Manager. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 26th, 2005|05:31 pm] |
The following things arrived today:
- Kane mask (I can hear the women of Norwich jump for joy in unison at the prospect of my face being under wraps)
- Jimmy Eat World ticket
- Plenty of junk mail
- My brother, Nan and mother, coming to scope out UEA's history department for my brother's university studies
The following things left today:
- My amp (so long, Billy's Bum - hello Mr Marshall, or shall I call you Jim?)
- My brother, Nan and mother, having scoped out UEA's history department and thoroughly liked it
I bailed on Ross Day in order to escort them all onto campus and guide them around - I do a better job than the hired guides anyway, because if I don't know something about the history of the university, I make it up, and make it weird. My brother eventually wandered off to attend some introductory lectures and chats, my mum sat through the tedium of the special "Parent Lectures (Don't Worry, We Won't Kill Your Child)", so my Nan and I sat in The Hive all afternoon chatting, reading books and, in my case, getting buzzed on more cappucino than I can comfortably handle. It all boils down to my brother loving the place (knew he would) and there is a distinct possibility you younger lot will be seeing my younger sibling, who looks nothing like me, wandering around campus dressed like a Russian soldier.
Ross has already chronicled the Pissy-Pants-Bezance story from last night, and that was the highlight of it all, so nothing really to tell. Does anyone know how to make Edmond go away? I've tried being snide all the way through to being openly antagonistic and telling him to leave me alone - even having Ross openly grope him didn't make him stay away for more than a few minutes. It's a desperate situation, it really is.
Happy Piercing Day to all those who got themselves impaled today. Good luck to you going through metal detectors and places with magnets. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 24th, 2005|06:34 pm] |
For sale:
60 watt AXL guitar amplifier with onboard digital delay, 2 channels - clean and overdrive - and effects loop to prevent signal reduction from guitar to amp. Makes a hell of a lot of noise, sounds good as well, and in very good condition. 50 pounds to you, my friends. Please buy it, as I want Kit's Marshall. London types, I can get it to you if you let me know by Wednesday - Dan and Adz, I'm looking at you fellas.
Think of it as upgrading. It did have a nickname, for all those who know my tendancy to give monikors to my guitar equipment. "Billy's Bum", in reference to, firstly, Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins and, secondly, it's chunky size. Keep the name if you want, it's free. My new uber-distortion pedal, by the way, is called "Linford's Lunchbox". Yes, I'm weird, I know.
I have been told about, and am awaiting tabs for, two new We Skullfucked Pikachu songs. They sound absolutely amazing lyrically, and no doubt will do sonically since Kit wrote the music. Let's just say - you won't forget "Baby-B-Gone" in some time...
So come to the gig!
Food now, pub later - and it had better not be fucking snowing when I walk out that door. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 23rd, 2005|08:54 pm] |
Say, Condi, wanna skip this bunch of crap and go see Slayer?
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 20th, 2005|11:13 pm] |
Yet another accurately-targeted piece of advertising...
Like-minded Christians, eh? By that you would mean Christians who don't believe in God or Christ, then? Good to know the church is catering for atheists these days too y'know... |
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