As each day goes by here I can feel a metamorphosis taking place. Every time I'm asked what my "plans" are, I find it harder and harder to tell people that I'm going to make money playing the guitar, either here or in some other far flung destination. Words like "realistically", "practical" and "feasibly", have started creeping into my mind, planted there by the concern and disbelief of well meaning friends. I knew this would happen. Things that in other countries seem perfectly possible, in England seem outright ridiculous. It's partly to do with the cost of living. To live on the money you make as a musician in London would be impossible! Even just to make to the fare into the city and back would be hard, wheras in Australia the cost of living is reasonable, so it wouldn't be such a crazy idea.
But it's more than that. It feels to me it's more about this whole nonsensical idea that everybody needs to have a "proper job". Quite frankly, I'm not convinced. All these "proper jobs", at least in my circle of friends, seem to involve staring at computer screens for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and then getting absolutely fucked for the whole weekend before doing the same thing all over again. Ok, so maybe it'd give me enough money to buy some cool toys. Hey, maybe i could even save enough to put a deposit down on a flat and then be REALLY trapped! Oh joy! No, the money bit is not really buying me. But on the other hand, just existing in this overpriced little island of greyness costs a fucking fortune, so you gotta earn a fair amount otherwise your basically confined to your home the entire time. The weather doesn't help in that respect. If it was sunny at least you can go out and enjoy free things, but when it's cold and wet, everything you wanna go and enjoy costs cash, lots of it.
Anyway, enough negativity. Somehow I have to figure out how to remain positive and idealistic in the face of such brutal realism and common sense. My approach so far has been not to leave the protective shelter of my friends houses. After spending the weekend at ben's house, and failing miserably to leave excpet for our quick jaunt to the pub with the elvis impersonator, on sunday evening I decided to go and see ewan, one of my old housemates.
Ewan gave me dirctions, and after a burger and chips down the local chippy, I set of for the tube station. Everything was going ok until I reached Kings Cross. After walking for 15 mins with my big pack to Kings Cross Thames Link, I was confronted with a barrier and a sign explaining that all services were closed on this route. I asked the woman behind the ticket booth what was the problem, automatically speaking in my clearest pidgeon english. She asked where I was going and where I'd come from, and when i told her, she said "Nahhh mate, you're goin the wrong way, you wanna go back the way you come and then take the tube to kentish town and get a train from there..."
After thanking her in what I think was an english accent, i headed back underground to head for Cuntish Town. Another hour later, I was in St Albans, and Ewan came to pick me up and bring me to the safety of his parents (currently away) suburban house, which is where, except for a quick trip to an indian restaurant last night, I have stayed.
Ewan has been updating me on the most important developments in the UK over the last 3 years, namely reality tv. Yes, I have had the great fortune to arrive home right at the end of "I'm a celebrity get me out of here", which is basically like survivor but with b grade celebs that I've never heard of. It's shit. But I seem to be alone in this sentiment. On the tube everyone seemed to be reading a tabloid newspaper which was filled entirely with gossip about celebs from the show. But then hey, I suppose there's not that much going on in the rest of the world these days is there... well, excpet for Iraq I supose, but I mean like hey, that is sooo last year!!!
I watched George Bush do his tv interview the other night. It was painful. Fair play to the interviewer though, as he asked some fairly difficult questions an demanded responses, which george of course failed miseably to deliver. He just kept repeating the same lines over and over and basically making himself look like a complete liar. The best moments where when he had repeated the same pre-written line about 3 times and obviously figured it was time to ad lib a little. Every time he did this he would accidentally blurt out something along the lines of "yes I did lie to the american public about wmd, but I honestly did think he was a really bad man and that I should take him out". Now if you'd just said that in the first place George....
Right, it's 4pm, which is about the time I get up these days. My reverse jet lag has just merged into a very lazy sleeping pattern... so, time to get up and search Ewans kitchen for some food.... :)