Archive for the 'Nights Out' Category

Let me set the scene for you: it’s 1.30am, and there’s that misty kind of rain in the air that gives a faint white glow against the black, clouded backdrop that is the sky. The rain, in its swirling droves, wafts downwards from the dark heavens, before settling on a car cruising into the night. In the car, soft and mellow music pours beautifully loudly from the speakers, and a young man inside gently nods his head, knowing that his ears are probably bleeding from the noise. He strokes his hair back from across his face as he’d gotten so used to doing over the years, and catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the rear view mirror; his bloodshot eye, barely open, holds its own gaze, broken only by the vibration of the music in the mirror.

He could feel these vibrations making his eyes wobble about in his skull a little bit, so that the world had a soft edge to it, making it look that bit more comfortable and warm. He turned the heating down a notch or two and adjusted himself in his seat, trying to fit into the right niche in his habitual comfort zone that he knew so well. Settling, he changed up into fifth gear, the rain silently diffusing the view until the wipers made all clear again. Despite its valiant efforts, the rain wasn’t going to win this battle. Especially when they sent in all their wimps, they were easy picking for the wipers, no matter how weak the wipers were themselves. He chuckled to himself and pulled his hair back from his face again.

He was feeling good. Really fucking good. Just like that scene in Trainspotting when Renton tries heroin for the first time after getting off the stuff. That’s a really fucking good film, but he couldn’t stand to watch the part where Renton was going cold turkey after his overdose, it just weirded him out too much, that was all. He could remember the time his dad had first shown him that film, in a rather vain attempt to put him off drugs. He’d always been a druggie at heart, even before he ever started using them. The drugs were in fact a mere finishing touch to the druggie look and mentality he’d managed to develop over the years without meaning to.

Despite all this he was always impressed with the fact that he was still clever enough to do his job to a good standard and have ambition to take things further. He knew that everyone looked at him as some stoner kid, but he knew in his very inner cores that he was destined for something successful. Quite what success was, he wasn’t sure yet, but he was planning to find out as soon as he could.

As he pulled up to the junction, the street lights began to illuminate everything slowly, and he realised that the car behind him was a police car. He had been slowing down for a while, just coasting with the clutch down, knowing that the road was slightly down hill. He pulled out onto the main road with added caution. As he continued, he calmed down slightly, and then the police vehicle flashed his lights and signalled him to pull over. His heart sank - he couldn’t go through this again. The last time it had happened he’d thrown up minutes afterwards. With a shaking hand he slowly pushed the button to wind down his window. The policeman stepped out of the car and walked towards him. Time seemed to slow right down. Every footstep the policeman took, he felt years crawl past with agonising lethargy. Suddenly, he snapped to, and the policeman peered in the window.

The thing about adrenaline is that it fucks up your brain so you can’t think. You feel scatty, like you’ve had too many cups of coffee at work, and you can’t focus properly on one thing. The policeman said something, presumably to step out of the car. He stepped out, wondering how on earth his legs were still managing to work, despite being apparently made out of soup. His heart was visibly beating in his narrow ribcage, his hands trembling meekly inside his sleeves. The policeman told him he’d been going too fast, and he nodded, and for some god-unknown reason tried to deny that he’d been going that fast. The policeman refuted these claims, and asked had he been drinking. He said “no”, quickly, in a way that only someone can say when they’re nearly pooing themselves. The policeman mumbled something into his radio, and pressed his finger to his ear. He apologised, and asked again if the young man had been drinking. Again, he said he hadn’t. The policeman pressed his hand to his ear again, listening and frowning. The policeman wandered round the car, checking it over. The young man was noticeably scared, he hunched himself against the cold and looked up, terrified. The policeman wandered back to the police car, told the young man to take it easy, and drove off.

The young man took a while to comprehend the previous three minutes as he sat in his stationary car. Slowly, an elation floated up through him as he realised that he was off the hook. He was free. It was all OK. He began to chuckle once more, and started the engine. By the time he’d driven a mile, he was laughing away to himself, unable to contain his stoned glee. He phoned his mate, to whom he described the situation. His mate laughed, and then hung up.

True story.

Srsly.

I think the title says it all, but allow me to elaborate: I had a brilliant Friday night. After an extremely wet day at school, I had wet shoes. I was also shattered and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but I also wanted to go to Thame Fair with Caley and company, so I went to town a little slower than previously expected.

I had been hoping to get a lift with Luke into town, but after he had an incident with his car and a sign in Tesco car park, we ended up walking. Five wet minutes later and I was there in town, with Caley, Ki-ki and Tasha, and we went to McDonalds for food and then smokes. Then we went to the bus station to get the bus and for smokes. Then we went to Thame and spent ages trying to find Woolworths where Vicki was. Then we had a smoke, and walked to Vicki’s seeing as we couldn’t find her and had no idea where Woolworths was.

Then Vicki’s mum gave us a lift to Thame and all was good. And my brains were forced out of my nose by the centripetal force of one of the rides we were on. And it was a good night.

Sorry about the serious lack of an interesting blog, I’m too tired to bother.

So, yesterday, my computer stopped posting. It was showing the same symptoms as when I’d been overclocking it, and I’d bumped the FSB up without bringing the CPU voltage up with it - there was no response from the screen and the drives weren’t spinning up, just the old system beep. So, I reset the CMOS as one does in such a situation, but it wasn’t having any of it.

After giving up and leaving it unplugged, I went off to Chilton to play at the small festival they had there, with Leila, Alex and Farrar. We had a good time, and we salute the 20 or so brave souls who actually stood outside and watched, despite the gale force winds and blisteringly cold temperatures.

After that, we took advantage of our free drinks, and I drained the pub’s supply of Guinness. Then, Crash Records talked to us about recording a couple of tracks. The problem is we really do need to change our name to something that’s going to be more easily memorable, and stand out. Take for example our myspace - ‘grkloveyou’. That’s not memorable. Annoyingly I just bought the domain to go with that, but never mind. Any suggestions?

So, I got home and got drunk with my dad, and watched Lucky Number Slevin, which I didn’t think was gonna be that good, but really surprised me - it was a brilliant film.

Anyway, back to the post title - I plugged my computer in, hoping it might work after having some time to think about what it was doing, and flipped the switch on the power supply. Bang! And the PSU is fried!

I have a laptop thank god, but I won’t be online nearly as much as I was this term. God knows, I might even get some work done.