TRMW Archives

* FYI, this stuff is old. The current TRMW is here.

July 12, 2002

My life has sort of imploded since my last posting. I thought I had things sorted out, working part-time at a restaurant, getting by fine. Well, I went in this week to see what my hours were going to be and was underjoyed to discover that I was not scheduled to work at all! My financial situation does not leave much room for this kind of occurence, so I am now broke. Get another job, right? Mmm, not so easy when you are planning on leaving the country in two and half weeks.

So: I am flying home early than expected. Today I changed my flight to the nineteenth of July, a week from today. All of a sudden my love affair with London is coming to an end. This time next week (adjusting for time warps) I will be back in the California sunshine, with my family and friends! As much as I will miss this place, I won’t miss this grey July weather, and the ridiculous cost of living.

So it looks like…

I’m going (going) back (back) to Cali. Just like Biggy used to do! …but not really.

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July 3, 2002

Funny thing happened yesterday: I’m sitting in Neal’s Yard eating lunch with my friend Kacy (that’s not the funny part). I start feeling a little mopey, staring out into the square in melancholy contemplation (oh angst!). I’m sort of trancing out, staring at this man standing in the square, totally in my own head, unhappy.

Then, I begin to snap out of it, thinking to myself, “Don’t be stupid, look where you are, this is London, you brought yourself here, and you are doing this.” This brings me out of my trance. Slowly, I start to recognise the man I have been staring at. And guess who it is:

Woody Harrelson.

That’s right, while I was sitting there, making myself miserable, I almost missed out on a genuine celebrity sighting! I’ve decided this was the super shiva enya god life force telling me to just shut up and let life live.

Cheers! …sometimes you wanna go…

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June 29, 2002

Currently, far too much of my time is devoted to finding these cute little Japanese toys somewhere in London. Any pointers, anyone? …I need a job.

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June 25, 2002

I have returned from my travels in England, Germany, Austria, Italy, Monaco, and France. It was all very fun, and I am much browner than I was before. I even had some celbrity sightings along the way:

(1) Natalie Imbruglia at London Heathrow Airport as I was waiting to meet my parents. Yes, she is just as gorgeuos as person. And really short.

(2) Quincy Jones in Portofino, on the Italian Riviera. He was here for the night, as part of some big yachting trip. This was exciting. Just, between you and me, it seems that Quicny stopped hanging out with black people once he got rich. But his ‘girlfriend’ was fine as hell. One of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen in person. Go, Quincy!

Now, I have got to get a job so that I can keep living in my fabulous new flat in northwest London. Life is so so so hard. But I press on.

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June 8, 2002

Today I moved out of my flat in Victoria. I miss it already. Oh well. Tomorrow my family is arriving in London. For the next three weeks we will be travelling around Europe. I can’t wait! Hopefully you, my huge readerbase, can hold out that long with no new posts from yours truly. Wish me luck!

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May 30, 2002

So today is yet another day in which I wake up sometime sort of early, tell myself I need to get up, doze in and out of consciousness, and eventually convince myself to rise at around noon. This pathetic struggle can be a little self-defeating at times, especially when I realize that half my day is gone before I wake, but hey at least I am well rested.

It is now three o’clock PM and I am in the computer lab at the University of Westminster. I have been updating the Metempsychosis webpage (new releases!), and generally mucking about. Later on I will try to sell some CDs and find some cheap new jeans.

Tonight is Kat’s going away party. Kat is a Swedish girl who bartends at my local pub, the Cardinal. She knows my drink of choice, and likes to call me “love”, both very endearing qualities. The party should be well attenended, as every man woman and child in the Victoria neighborhood is friends with her by now.

Sorry for the military nature of this entry. Alas, my muse escapes me.

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May 27, 2002

Well, university is all but over for the summer, and I can feel the stress falling off me. Now I just chill and write new music, and drink, and sleep late. I’m a big bum. So now you know.

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May 8, 2002

Yesterday was my birthday! This means that I am now typing this with fingers that are twenty one years old. More importantly, this also means that I can finally drink legally in good ol’ USA. Kind of anticlimactic really, given that I have been drinking legally since I set foot on this mushy island called England.

No matter, it was a wonderful day. This first thing I did was take my good friend Kacy to the hospital to see if there was an African parasite sucking off her lofe force. See, she just arrived in London from Dakar, Senegal, and she was getting these really bad cramps and funky bowel feelings.

After seeing the nurse, she informs me that she will be waiting three hours before she sees a doctor, at which point I politely slip off. I make my way to the library and attempt to begin an essay I need to do for my politics module. Instead, I end up picking up some tickets to a boat party on the Thames, and downing a pint with my favorite Mongolian-American, Billy.

In the evening I eat a really nice Mexican meal with some friends and then head out to the 333 club in Old Street. While there, I meet the editor of Adrenaline Magazine who happens to be born on the same day on me. He also happens to have been in California the day before where he interviewed numerous famous people, most notable Suge Knight, CEO of Deathrow (now Tha Row) Records.

That’s right, there is now only one degree of separation between my white self and the man behind the funkiest g-funk this side of… anywhere!

I also managed to get myself an interview for a position behind the bar, which went really well. And, sure enough, today it is revealed that I got the job. So I am now a bar back at 333, one of the trendiest hipster clubs in London! Small town Meadow Vista, look at me now!

(Side note: I worked at a sushi restaurant in Soho called Itsu fo a week, before being dropped the day before my birthday. I was bumming, but it looks now to have been a blessing in disguise.)

Life is rad, and I am young. It was a great birthday and I managed to get a job and get drunk at the same time. Now that’s style. I’m superbad.

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March 17, 2002

Just wrote a really long, thought-out summary of my weekend to put up here, but somehow the internet flipped out on me and it has disappeared into the digital ether. We both lose out, and I feel really frustrated. So, let’s just say: dancing lesbians, robotic cocktail waitresses, a naked Irishman, beer, clubbing. Goodnight.

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February 21, 2002

Mmmmmm, life tastes pretty good right about now. Just got back from Saint Pauls Cathedral, and my what a gorgeous building that is. Climbed up all 500,000,000 steps to get to the top (or as close as I could) and looked down on the vast expanse that is London. Wonderful views, probably the best you can get in the city. Also enjoyed the colorful mosaics that were put up by Queen Victoria and her posse (probably more her posse than her really). Worth a visit for sure.

In other news, I recently made a wee visit down to the lovely (I think England makes me want to use words like “lovely”…. also “quite”) city of Brighton, had some great nights out courtesy of Mr. Scruff and Warp Records, and ate a banana. You can see some pictures from these events (save the banana eating event) in the pictures section. The picture right above this is from the Warp event where, among other things, I met the legendary Aphex Twin. And the funny guy (the one with the glasses, not me) in the pictures section is none other than Metem‘s very own Contax. And what a nice guy he is.

Yesterday I read some articles about how weblogging (you are reading a weblog right now) is dominated by people who crave attention and feel a strange compulsion to document their lives to strangers. I suppose I fall into that category, don’t I? Why should anyone care about my life? But wait, that argument would have us believe that all art and communiction is a waste of time. As human beings we love to connect to each other, however possible, and many of our inventions are used specifically for this (like the internet). So there, I have justified the above ramblings. I’ll give myself a pat on the back and exit the computer lab. Thanks for indulging me.

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