Metroid

Saturday: My friend's little sister comes to town, and I promise to show her some fun and unusual things to do in town. Tonight there's a few clubs we might go to, but ultimately we just go to Grind-a-Go-Go, myself reckoning that she might need to be eased into the way of things here as she's only little. A fun time was had; at some point I check my phone for news, and it turns out Camden has burnt down. Not all of camden, obviously, but the parts that really, really, really needed to burn down. The Hawley Arms, once famous for its over-the-counter dealing, and now just somewhere for people who are barred from The Groucho to lubricate their angst. I liked it when it was properly seedy, back in about 96; it was somewhere you always felt nervous going into, because everyone knew it was just for buying dope or whatever, and the only people ever drinking in there were your proto-crusties, dog on a string types, inevitably some distant landed aristo's son or whatever but in Camden to sell beads they probably smuggled out of Mongolia up their arse, or at least had to bribe someone vastly more than they're worth. And a large section of the market is gone too. Good. It was never great; Dingwalls was always one of the least appealing venues in London, and I don't know if it's gone, but I'm hoping it has. And that god-awful bar with the upstairs bit. I think in the pictures that's where the flames were coming out. Good. Back home, the young lady slept in my bed, and I slept downstairs. It's odd sleeping in your housemate's room, you feel a bit like an imposter, but especially when you're sleeping below your own room, you wonder what sort of noises they hear. Or rather, try not to wonder..

Sunday: The young lady and I spent a good deal of the day wandering and talking, from Spitalfields to Brick Lane to Abney Park cemetary to Ally Pally for the sunset. It was really, really nice. Then she hoped on the tube and I made my way to Dice Club, where the middle act was a few members of what used to be Black Wire, playing their first gig. They were dead friendly, and I got some decent pix; on the off chance that they make much of themselves, I will be in a good position to sell them.

Monday: A day spent doing not much, but in a good way. Firstly, went to a shop to look at some jeans I like. There was a sale on, and the jeans fit me well.. new jeans! I don't know why such things make me happy but they do, greatly. Then on to Yard for some pizza; it was good. The place seems to pride itself on delivering pizza of any size though, and I was a bit disappointed that the standard size seemed to be "smallish medium". Then on to The Print Rooms for Mat Irwin's Dazed & Confused exhibition. He's a definite rising star in the fashion photography scene, and I said hello as he's a friend of the lady I was with. We might be going for dinner all together in March, which is exciting. His photography reminded me of Mari Sarai's, one of my previous photographic mentors, but a bit more gay and less energetic. There's a big divide in independent fashion in London; two magazines dominate, Dazed & Confused, and i-D. I definitely fall into the Dazed camp, probably because I've assisted on a lot of i-D shoots and they seem like the most disorganised people to do business with. Anyway. After that on to Husam el Odeh's exhibition, at The George And Dragon, one of those gay pubs on Hackney Road. It was nice to say hello to him again, and see Mari and some of her friends, and Britta to. All fashion folks I've met and worked with before, and, like most people in that industry who are at all successful, very nice and very friendly. The day left me feeling.. optimistic.

Wednesday: my new laptop arrived at long long long last. It feels like one of the final pieces of the jigsaw is falling into place. But also, as tomorrow is my birthday, the last few nights I haven't been able to stop myself thinking about things. Today I spent most of it wondering after my friends overseas. There's one in particular.. you know there are some people who will never see your point of view, even if you have a million things in common, and no matter what, you can never find the words to say what you want to say to them, or the right words to say the right things.. like now. I could write five hundred words on just how fantastic it feels for things to be going right sometimes. But, the words I want to say to her? Random snippets of sentences, which she'd never read because she doesn't get to read my blog where she is anyway. But basically: believe in love. Don't give yourself without it. If you do, love goes away, and without love, life is meaningless. And a meaningless life is the root of all your ills, my love.