What do you call a ponder pipe that just lays around all day? Mopey Dick. Badum. My first day in London, I was moping like no other. Woke up early. Phoned the prison. Spoke to Kailand. Told me her news – “They keep giving us bananas and milk for meals, I’m hooked on the milk.” Slurp. Filled her in on my news – US Embassy said there’s nothing they can do, magistrates decision so just have to sort it out when you get home. Some dose. Slurp. Kailand is upset. But still. Her spirits are high. Night’s sleep always helps in fairness. Or else they were spiking the milk.
It was then realised that it must be hard to keep conversations flowing with people in prison. Both had filled the other in in detail what had happened since we saw each other last (about 24 hours ago). After that, our news seemed insignificant or non-existence. I’d phone back and Kailand would tell me she had a nice non-English speaking conversation with an Indian woman about milk. I’d inform Kailand that the hotel room was nice but all the TV stations seemed to be showing was the Big Bang Theory. Then Kailand had to go to get more milk. I’d phone back. Find out if the milk was really cold or room temperature. Called off again to go brush her teeth if she wanted to. Phone back again and then… I was told Kailand had been taken away. Being brought back to the airport. Put on a flight. Which flight? Wouldn’t tell me? What time? Hung up on me. Dose. Wouldn’t speak to Kailand about milk again until she was back in L.A, eating some Thanksgiving turkey and egg nog. So that was a balls. Continue Reading »
Being honest, I had a blogaruu half written out before I decided I had to restart it from scratch. Thankfully, it was cut loose. Perhaps these few selected sentences will make clear as to why… “L.A.D kicked in big time this weekend. As opposed to S.A.D (seasonal affective disorder), location seems to be my problem”… “This was not just a hangover, this was a slump”… “Literally, the sight of myself in the mirror on Saturday almost made me sick.” Ha, the whole thing was just getting me more annoyed reminding myself of the past couple of uneventful days, so it had to be changed.
Lets just say I had a gloriously average weekend at best, where besides a bit of writing, not too much happened, and which I am looking forward to moving on from. Perhaps I might be feeling a bit frustrated at the moment. Which is where the title stemmed from. I’ll keep it as a souvenir to make sure I know who it is that can solve my issues!
To inject a bit of humour, here’s a funny man to start again with…
Moving on, one thing which has become quite apparent while I have been home, is how atrocious radio stations in Ireland have become (maybe always were?). Not all of them, all of the time, but the majority of them, the majority of the time. In my opinion at least. Unfortunately I left my iTrip in L.A, so every time I drive here, I make the same mistake. Well, two mistakes. First is forgetting to burn a CD to bring along with me. The main one, however, is that I keep giving the radio one last chance. And time and time again, it makes me want to bite my ears off. It is brutal! Music wise anyways, the chat shows are fine, you know what to expect from them. It is the generic, bland, horrific music that is played 90% of the time which is so annoying to me. Different stations playing the same horrendous songs that in 3 weeks people will not even remember the name of. When did it get so bad?
The worst part is similar to a scene in Family Guy, where they mock a station that plays a jingle for a good few minutes, telling you the name of the station. Then the jingle keeps going for another minute or two. On Saturday, while driving along, I noticed that one station claimed to play a fit of 6 songs in a row, uninterrupted. Probably 6 crap songs, but still, uninterrupted was the big factor. Supposedly. Bar the presenter saying a few sentences between each song. And the few ads scattered here and there. Oh, plus the jingle… “Uninterrupted, UNINTERRUPTED, music without interruptions” and so on, for at least half a minute. Which was highly head wrecking. Especially when the songs that were then played seem to be tailored only for a hen party crowd. Which is fine, I suppose, if you’re on a hen and listening to the radio at the same time. Otherwise, it is torture.
Night time radio at least has some variety. However, day time radio must be a rising source of road rage in people these days. Or is it just me? Screaming at the radio for just one good song without an annoying ape talking through it. I’ve tried going down the route of turning the radio off fully as well. However, this just leads to an odd silence in the car, a vacuum. Which feels like it should be filled with some sort of noise. Sing a song perhaps. Or else you could just start talking to yourself. Which is odd, when somebody next to you in traffic asks what song you’re singing, and you tell them the truth “No song, just talking to myself about the current plight of the radio.” Kind of weird, when they realize you’re not joking.
Now that I read back over this attempt, it is clear that I might just be using Irish radio to vent out frustrations I have in other areas. At least the first attempt made sense, in a way. As opposed to this puke-like effort. Anyways, like all other frustrations I might be encountering at the moment, it will just have to be dealt with. Suck it up. Stop being a bitch. And bring back the week, more constructive things outside my control can potentially occur.
Best part of the weekend might have been watching Louis Theroux on BBC tonight, about his show on meth addicts in California. Watching that has made me realize that I may have met a few more meth heads myself back in L.A, than I might have initially thought. Which is good to know. Plus, I read yesterday about a serial killer who seems to have resurfaced in L.A, and is on another rampage. The grass is far greener.
A song to wrap this mess up…
Cruel Intentions – Simian Mobile Disco (Feat. Beth Ditto)