Friday, 27 February 2009

Woodcat is an accidental stalker...

So on Monday (?), yes, Monday, I sent an email to the people behind a blog that I'd happened across. This is not really something I'd generally do, as I'm under the impression that people blog self consciously for the first few weeks they do it, in case anyone reads it, then they realise that it's freakin rare for anyone to read your blog, and even when they do, they don't care what you say, who you are, why you say it, blah blah blah... See, no one's reading this, so no one cares if I say any of this... blah blah blah. The only times this changes slightly is in very specific instances. Blogs about music. Blogs about gigs, which are really a subcategory of those about music. Blogs by musicians, again, a subcategory of those about music. Blogs about films. Blogs about food. Seriously, if you can't eat it, watch it or listen to it, it's most likely that nobody cares. But, I digress. As I mentioned, I contacted the authors of a blog. The blog in question was, unsurprisingly, a music blog, and I'd just spent about 20 minutes listening to previously completely unknown to me, yet completely ace, songs courtesy of this, and combined with the title of the blog curiously reminding me of an incident a couple of weeks ago, I sent a brief note of slightly stalkery thanks, as below:

I thought I'd send you a weird email...
Because I happened across your blog this evening. Having caught my eye because of the most recent title - oddly reminded me of dancing and giddiness in ____ a week or so ago - I played all the random songs I've never heard of, and wanted to say thanks! Thus, here is a weird little stalkery type email, with words to that effect...

Anyway, I duly got a reply back, and the reply seemed a little self effacing, and selfconscious, which is exactly the response I expected, if I indeed expected a reply at all. And that should have been the end of the matter. However, the author of the response asked a question, about the location of the dancing and giddiness. So I replied, and he replied, asking more questions, and now there is the most ridiculously 51 email long email thread in my inbox, and, perhaps curiously, it turns out that he is the random boy I was dancing with briefly a couple of weeks ago. And seems very nice, and as originally suspected, young. Stalker was turned stalked part way through the week, when he added the Woodcat on facebook, and she found out he was born in 1985! Which makes her feel a little old... And so, the Woodcat is an accidental email stalker. Oh dear...

In other news, this week has been mostly quiet, although I did skip along to Emmy the Great on Tuesday, at The Ruby Lounge, which was ace. I'd expand, but there's not so much to expand on. I could wax lyrical about her lightly tripping whimsical lyrics sung in, by turns, mournful and joyful form, or the amazing perfection of the performance that lacked a bum note, a false start, or an unbalanced element with regard to the levels of the sound quality. But I'm not a gig reviewer, I didn't take a note of the set list, and half way through I was ruing that it was so good, because if she had been any less I could've taken my sleepy self home to bed. I can tell you that highlights for me included The Easter Parade, which (I think? Or was it Absentee first? No, I think it was The Easter Parade first... See, I'd be no good doing this properly) was the opening song, as well as Absentee, MIA, 24, Dylan, and of course, First Love. Needless to say, if you get the chance to go, Emmy the Great is not someone to be missed as she flits through your town. In short, and using the worse phrasing possible, Emmy was Great.

Also, I'm so happy that i'm not the only petty little grump in the world... Passively agressively of course... Looksee!!!

Sunday, 22 February 2009

So I did not win a ukulele

Tonight was predominantly about ukuleles. I saw the best ukulele rock opera I've ever seen, courtesy of Sparky Deathcap, as well as a beautiful set by Kathryn Edwards, who I've never heard of and I'm keen to hear more, her vocals are delicately haunting, plus any one who can play an accordian is awesome in my book, and a fairly entertaining song about beards from Jam on Bread. I did not, alas, see Jeremy Warmsley, as I left early. I'm having one of my don't touch me or I will punch you in the face episodes, and the boys Paddington and Corky did not seem able to maintain a sensible distance, or refrain from talking to me and just talk to themselves instead. Maybe I'm overly tired, or maybe it's just that they've had five or six pints and I'm woefully sober. But I have to be up early anyways, and violence is not generally considered to be a valid answer, so I thought to leave. Also, Meursault were doing little by way of being entertaining, a surprise since what I'd heard on recordings sounded promising. Live, not so good. Shame.

The definitive Woodcat

Using only quotes from Ulysses, I define myself thus:

- When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.

- Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give.

I have a little red motor car...

Yes, yes I do. This car was actually the cause of a little strife last summer, and the loss of a friend. Don't get me wrong. No body died. But there were misunderstandings and weirdness, and now the Catflap thinks I fancy him, and is weird about things and stuff. None of this, however, means I love my little car any the less. My little red car is excellent, and I drove it for the first time yesterday. My dad has been mending the bits and bobs that were wrong with it, and yesterday I washed my car, and took it home where it lives with me. MINE. All mine. Already it is making me want to acquire a new ipod, for plugging into the stereo for long car journeys... But in the meantime, I am thinking mixtapes!!!

And we started something on the dance floor...

Having not really seen Chiquita properly for ages, we decided that Friday we would hang out, but in a go out to town and have the eats kind of way. The original plan was to head to Wagamamas and eat lovely food, and drink saki, because saki is nice, and because it makes you feel drunker than you are, b ut doesn't seem to hurt in the morning. By the time we were half way there though, we were hungry. And outside Tampopo in Albert Square. So in we went, and pondered the menu. I opted for the seafood Yaki Udon with a glass of the house white, and Chiquita picked the chicken Pad Thai, also with the house white. I love eating noodles with chops sticks. Mostly because I am terrible at eating with chop sticks. Absolutely appalling. And I find it hilarious, mostly because I look around and find that no one else can either. I always think that messy food you have to eat with chop sticks is good date food, because you have no option but to be yourself, given the likelihood that most of your dinner will end up on your chin. Tampopo was really nice, despite lacking saki, but I think that Wagamamas has the edge, and I'll have to plan a visit soon.

After Tampopo we wandered into a bar like a club, and ran away super quick, then wandered into a club like a bar, where we stayed for a while and chattedy chatted to Corky, and Panda Ross and Panda Dom. I got myself a little bit drunkardly, and myself and Corky started talking most randomly about the fact that we'd like to put on a club night. And I would like to, but I recognise that I am lazy and unmotivated. And if such a plan came off it would be down to Corky's dynamism prior to my own. After maybe an hour, we turned around, and suddenly the empty club had acquired people. I don't know where they came from, but presumably through the door. The quiet seep of people continued for some time, and then suddenly, a really good song came on. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I was drunk, and and I forget. Anyhoo, Corky and I decided to start the dancing. Because no one hits an empty dance floor. But we do. And it was infectious. soon enough, we left the danceful nicely packed, and sat back down with Chiquita, and watched red cardigan man dance. Go red cardigan man go. He was incredible. Possibly terrible, possibly not. But doing his own thing, red cardigan man cared not a bean for anything else. And that is so cool.

Chiquita and Woodcat left quite early, and Woodcat may have accidentally volunteered the spare room out for tonight... Awesome evening. I will be going to Panda again

Thursday, 19 February 2009

Ukuleles and telephones

Today seems to be have been a day for pissing around on the interweb, and making anonymous new acquaintances. I've just had one of those weird telephone conversations with someone I've never met, yet have excessive amounts of nothing to talk about with. Essentially, the Woodcat is being a nice person, and offering to litter a club with flyers for a gig for the guy who is putting on the gig. Obviously, this is an entirely selfish aim, as I want all these small promoters to keep putting on the gigs that I'm too lazy to look into arranging myself, but recognise that they need help sometimes with flyering, and telling what is, and so on. So anyway, I called this chap to arrange the acquisition of said flyers, and must have been talking for a good forty minutes about, well, nothing really. I like such conversations, they remind me that the world is full of nice open friendly people after all.

Incidentally, if anyone's in Manchester on Sunday,The MIGHTY UKULELE FESTIVAL starring JEREMY WARMSLEY & MEURSAULT looks to be really fun!!! Obviously there's Jeremy Warmsley, and Meursault, and cakes, and the potential for winning a ukulele, and Sparky Deathcap, and some other fols on the side. All in all, pure WIN.

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Woodcat, face burn and a bowl of chilli

I swear, the kitchen at my work is jinxed. Carlos accidentally threw his lunch on the floor today. And luckily it was cold. Not so lucky was the Woodcat, yesterday, when she accidentally threw a boiling bowl of chilli on the floor, which splattered EVERYWHERE. Seriously. The floor. The fridge. The water cooler. The walls. And the Woodcat. Boots? Check. Skirt? Check. Top? Check. Cardigan? Check. Hair? Check? Face? Alas, check. Some of the lovely people at my office rallied round and started cleqaning it up for me, while I dealt with the head-to-toeness of the chilli, and discovered the lovely cheek burn I'm currently sporting. Thankfully it's not too bad, but it does look a bit gross, and I've got a lovely yellow scab right on my check bone. The Woodcat's looking right purdy. On the bright side, the chilli fell right side up, and there was enough left for lunch!

Right now I'm playing the mix tape, well, cd, that Corky made for me. Much Brazilian giddiness and all kinds of fun.

Monday, 16 February 2009

pieces of us were left on the tracks...

For my birthday, Corky gave me a mixtape. On a CD. How very modern and new fangled. He also gave me a summer beneath the trees. I'm just getting around to playing it now, and ruing not having done sooner. Even if I hadn't heard about the addition of Peter Broderick to the mix, there is an unmistakably distinctive note of his influence in this magnificent, yet gently undulating collection of lovely, and really the only thing I can think to make this album in anyway better will be to play it again when the washing machine isn't on.

Sunday, 15 February 2009

Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

This is so much better than my idea for bacon baked alaska.

Underachieving Pandas

Last night was excellent fun, there was dancing and dancing and the giddy. I went with Corky and Christina to the Saki bar, where Underachievers and Panda Panda were putting on a joint night. I've never been to either club night, but the music coming from Panda Panda was significantly better, and I am thinking there must be attendance in the future, and shapes thrown on that there dance floor and whatnot. There was perving at pretties, and dancing with boys who were flagrantly too young. One in particular, who was sufficiently crazy enough to introduce himself, despite my flailing limbs and rhythmless form. He seemed like a nice chap, and, I'd say, attractive as it goes, but he couldn't have been more than 24. I find it disconcerting that the only boys who chat me up actually are, well, boys!

I accidentally ingested a couple of vodka tonics, which goes against the no drinking plan. But, I can't say I feel as bad as could be expected, and certainly not as bad as Corky. I seem to have agreed to help compile the ultimate play list of all time... Think I'd better get my listening habits up to date!

Saturday, 14 February 2009

I already loved the music of this man

But now I think I love him too!!! Seriously. Watch these at your peril, for I think you will also fall under the spell...


It's Saturday, YAY!!! I've not been out for a while, due to that unfortunate consumer necessity, the monies, but tonight I believe there will be dancing and foolishness and a general good time all round. Excellent...

Thursday, 12 February 2009

Inexplicable joy and shiny pink hearts...

Town was beautiful this evening. Well, it wasn't. It never is. But there are some days where joy seems to permeate everything, to shine from every corner of existence, and on days like that the little things are everything. A woman's face breaking into a smile as she meets her friend. A boy seated on his father's shoulders as a family walk down the street. Shiny pink hearts blu-tacked to the window of a chip shop as you sail past on the bus. On days like this, life is wonderful.