Ice! Floe! Nowhere to go!

Among the various strictures I placed on myself when I acknowledged this thing of darkness mine was that I never wanted my journal to become cliquey. Of late, I have perhaps taken this too far and become downright abstract. A few LJtags won't frighten the horses, after all.

So, Friday. Stay Beautiful. Yes, it's still fun. But there's some fine-tuning required. The Modern were very pretty, and had three good songs; sadly, like so many new bands, they played a set far longer than their material deserved. They would have been OK earlier in the evening but between them and Crispin Queen Adreena's inexplicably Rawk set, the newly-LJd simon_price only had the final hour to resurrect the party mood.

On Saturday I fought my way to Camden to celebrate kendall_lacey's birthday and reprise the "We mail each other - hello!" conversation to which my job often sees me resort, before heading south to share similar sentiments with diamond_geyser aka Edward Scissorhands. I was dressed as John Steed, and looked rather dapper. The photographs you may see which suggest otherwise are filthy liars.

Sunday was the inaugural Club Mental; attendance was low because everyone was still wrecked in the aftermath of Saturday it was ever so exclusive. 666inmyheart hosted, and provided cups which, while useless at actually retaining liquid, did tell a heartrending story of unrequited love in the jungle. She also played us Pitman repeatedly, the weirdo.

Like wardytron and Gyles Brandreth, Batman is a fan of the riddle "What time is it when an elephant sits on your face?" I wonder how much else the three of them have in common.

Luke Haines, the second greatest living Englishman, is playing live tonight. Excited? Moi? Just a tad.