My first big bitch of the summer. And I don't mean a fat chick.
Anyway, back in the day of being single and a proud owner of a pair of beer goggles, I wouldn't think about posting a story about shagging some fatty. Have a laugh about it with some mates, but sharing it with the world...? I don't think so.
No, this post is to vent my building anger at the state of my life right now. I'm on holiday from college, my only source of income is from busking in Newquay's tempestous town centre on the evenings. Some arsehole in uniform informed me that, "There's no busking in Newquay." I tried to reason with him, (you can't reason with the police), I've been been busking for weeks, years even, I told him. I packed up my guitar and headed to the pub for a moan to my mates. After a few swift pints I thought it would be worth another shot.
I walked down to my spot, and would you believe it, the same officer came rolling past in his suped up Ford Focus. "What have I told you?" he asked. What did I tell you, I've been doing this since I was sixteen years old. I responded (in my head at least). Again, I packed up my shit and went to another pub. My gut was screaming at this injustice, no amount of alcohol could quell my distain. I was getting bored of hanging around with a few friends and drinking. I wanted to be working, singing, playing. I looked up and down the street, no police cars, no police officers. Quite an interesting tactic taken by the Devon & Cornwall constabulary, especially at two o'clock in the morning, I thought to myself.
I set up again and started playing, nice and laid back stuff, nothing to aggro or loud. I was there a minute, I shit you not. The assclown came at me from my left and tried to take my guitar off my shoulder. "Right, I've had enough of this", he said, trying to remaining calm. My thoughts were exactly the same. At least he didn't have some asshole trying to take his salary from under his nose. "Okay, all right, I'll pack it in", I diplomatically replied, putting my hands up in the air as if he had a gun or something, but also to distance him from taking the guitar from me. I walked home in a state of rage. I dumped my guitar on the floor and realised I had made enough to get hammered and still afford an eighth of green if I could find it.
Newquay's fucking changed, I know it sounds old of me, but literally two, three years ago, it was a different story. My initial thoughts of scoring some weed was Towan Beach. It was deserted. There was four or five people down there, tops. So now in 2007: I can't make any money from busking, I can't get hold of any smoke, and considering that my girlfriend is hundreds of miles away, the fact that the town is no longer a sausage fest, I'm getting randy as hell watching the scantily clad talent walking about with no outlet for my frustrations other than a box of Kleenex.
This summer is bullshit!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Solstice Part Two
I've just had to check how I left that last post. Between shaking my fists at Netscape and the dial up connection on my folk's computer, I had forgotten where I had reached in my post of a really long day. Ironically, it's taking me more than a week to post about it, because I'm having a busy week.
Yes, that was it. I'd just been to college to get my end of year tutorial. Upon arriving home, there was just a few minutes spare to wolf down a hearty dinner of beans on toast (right of of the Student's Cookbook). Battling with the possibility of indigestion, I made my way to the practice hall to pick up the band's equipment. The downside to owning a car and being in a band, is being the chauffer to the band. It took two trips to get the drums, piano, guitars and amps down to the Woodlane bar. Unsurprisingly, we started a little late. Which was alright, because hardly anyone had shown up at the time we said we'd be playing. Skip forward a few blurred hours of poker (an unmemorable session at the table), and the final table had been played down to. With me included. My only goal was to make it to the final table so I'd get a shirt. I know that's not great poker game play, but playing poker was the last thing on my mind. I was getting regular weather updates from my mate who wanted to go to the solstice. My only argument against going was that I wouldn't if it was pissing it down.
My final table stint lasted all of ten minutes. I kept getting rag aces behind pre flop raises. At least four or five times on the bounce. The button had just passed me and I told myself, "Any ace is an all in." Someone in early-middle position made a standard 3-4 times big blind raise. I'd just seen pocket sevens shown on a pre flop all in (which was folded round), so when I looked down and saw A-Js t was time to move. I paused for a second, counting my chips and then pushed. The original raiser spent a few minutes thinking. At least he hasn't got pocket Aces I thought to myself. He called and turned over A-Q. "You called my all in reraise with Ace Queen!" I screamed to myself. The board was helpless and I could now get on with playing a decent set with the band.
I got another weather (and green) update, "I'll be done by 12", I told my mate on the phone. By the time I'd got off the phone, the other band had started playing. Bugger, this wass going to hold me up for another half hour. Tom's band (Tom on the banjo and Luke on some sort of pedal powered organ) put in a good twenty minute set. I was gnawing at the bit to get up, play and pack off to get to Stonehenge. We played four, maybe five songs, all Ben Folds Five covers, and were done by about 11pm.
Sweet, I can get out of here quickly. I thought. Quickly it wasn't. I had to do three trips back to the hall, including one trip to drop off the pedal organ. It was about midnight by the time we'd filled up the car, and picked up some smoke. I can be very punctual when I want to be.
I've just had to check how I left that last post. Between shaking my fists at Netscape and the dial up connection on my folk's computer, I had forgotten where I had reached in my post of a really long day. Ironically, it's taking me more than a week to post about it, because I'm having a busy week.
Yes, that was it. I'd just been to college to get my end of year tutorial. Upon arriving home, there was just a few minutes spare to wolf down a hearty dinner of beans on toast (right of of the Student's Cookbook). Battling with the possibility of indigestion, I made my way to the practice hall to pick up the band's equipment. The downside to owning a car and being in a band, is being the chauffer to the band. It took two trips to get the drums, piano, guitars and amps down to the Woodlane bar. Unsurprisingly, we started a little late. Which was alright, because hardly anyone had shown up at the time we said we'd be playing. Skip forward a few blurred hours of poker (an unmemorable session at the table), and the final table had been played down to. With me included. My only goal was to make it to the final table so I'd get a shirt. I know that's not great poker game play, but playing poker was the last thing on my mind. I was getting regular weather updates from my mate who wanted to go to the solstice. My only argument against going was that I wouldn't if it was pissing it down.
My final table stint lasted all of ten minutes. I kept getting rag aces behind pre flop raises. At least four or five times on the bounce. The button had just passed me and I told myself, "Any ace is an all in." Someone in early-middle position made a standard 3-4 times big blind raise. I'd just seen pocket sevens shown on a pre flop all in (which was folded round), so when I looked down and saw A-Js t was time to move. I paused for a second, counting my chips and then pushed. The original raiser spent a few minutes thinking. At least he hasn't got pocket Aces I thought to myself. He called and turned over A-Q. "You called my all in reraise with Ace Queen!" I screamed to myself. The board was helpless and I could now get on with playing a decent set with the band.
I got another weather (and green) update, "I'll be done by 12", I told my mate on the phone. By the time I'd got off the phone, the other band had started playing. Bugger, this wass going to hold me up for another half hour. Tom's band (Tom on the banjo and Luke on some sort of pedal powered organ) put in a good twenty minute set. I was gnawing at the bit to get up, play and pack off to get to Stonehenge. We played four, maybe five songs, all Ben Folds Five covers, and were done by about 11pm.
Sweet, I can get out of here quickly. I thought. Quickly it wasn't. I had to do three trips back to the hall, including one trip to drop off the pedal organ. It was about midnight by the time we'd filled up the car, and picked up some smoke. I can be very punctual when I want to be.
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