Dreams

I'll avoid an obvious Smiths pun here and just say that I dreamt I saw Red Hot Chili Peppers the other night. John Frusciante somehow managed to walk across the audiences' heads to climb down me and hold my hand. The entire situation was in slow motion to enhance the romance like in S Club 7 in L.A when Jon finds that blonde girl at the prom (yeah, I'm a big fan) It was quite beautiful and the crowd circled around us. John was a lot shorter than I expected and was wearing quite an odd sun hat but that wasn't important at the time. Anthony on the other hand was prancing about in just pink fish net tights and a studded belt then went back stage to share a hammock with Keith Murray off of We Are Scientists. Next thing I was introducing Thom Yorke to Wagner for a space hopper competition. What's most peculiar about these dream scenarios is that they're not that dis-similar from my normal thoughts when awake. And then in real life I discover RHCP are playing in the UK woooooooooooop!! If only Frusciante was still in the band my dream may very well have come true, I can still hope though.

 

Morrissey in Middlesborough

Leaning eagerly over the top balcony watching a Morrissey made montage of The New York Dolls and Lou Reed me and the other quiffed slogan wearing devotees gathered quickly as if waiting for the church doors to open on Christmas morning. And then, in front of numerous dragon statues and over excited vegetarians, there was Morrissey. Not only there but there in a transparent sequined shirt. Singing Panic.

"Hello Middlesborough, do you think I'm a bit overdressed for The Hairy Lemon?" It's fair to say no-one really minded his recent continuously unusual choices of clothing, especially when 'Your the one for me fatty' was followed by Shoplifters of the World Unite. Me and the man who frequently disobeyed security orders and stood in the middle of the stairs until they gave in and let him stay, were so joyous I felt like embracing him. The entire set list was so special that even when Morrissey danced of stage during a power cut I was so happy after Everyday is like Sunday I wouldn't even have minded if he didn't come back. Thank Lord he did though cause that resulted in 'You Have Killed Me' and although sang in a shirt that resembled a maid's pinny I KNOW IT'S OVER was faultless and beautiful and during 'tonight is just like any other night, that's why your on your own' it was difficult to try not to cry at how much emotion and honesty and relate-ability can exist in one man's song writing. Stephen was on top form all night, dancing, chatting, joking and even risking further injury to his dog bite to shake hands with the front  row. Meat is Murder was the one though. I hadn't seen anything so impacting and powerful and unforgettable and striking since the gold confetti in 505's 'I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY WHEN YOU CRY'. No other could show a film of slaughter houses and dairy chains while singing 'Kill. Eat. Murder' and not bring outrage upon themselves. Instead it was chilling and haunting and devastating but incredible. I don't agree with or condone people ramming their ideas so fiercely but the energy of Irish Blood English Heart blew away doubt with just amazement. The chorus was magnificent and drowned the room in sing along followed by the famous Morrissey chant. He returned with a grin saying something that I won't forget too soon "Dear God whatever you do, remember me smiling" And then he sang There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. 'It meant more to me than any other living thing on earth. It had more words than any other living thing on earth.' There's a few more photos here http://bit.ly/qYj2sz x

Galavanting round Camden eating falafels

I think the shop below might be my favourite place that I've ever been, it's like entering numerous different worlds at once without actually walking very far. Not long after I bought various Cure badges and a life size mannequin... 

In no other place is it more acceptable to meander through a high street whilst balancing a pair of children's legs on your arm. I've never wanted Noel Fielding to walk past me more than I did in that moment, in a way it was extremely fun (excluding manoeuvring through the tube and dropping a leg on train passengers) ...that was a bit awkward, especially when a man with one leg sat next to me. Luckily I don't think he noticed that I had two spares. Lordy! the things I do for art.