Fears and loathings with bad hair   Leave a comment

Still feeling a bit wounded about finding my CDs in the Sally Ann’s, although obviously it’s the easiest thing to understand in the world.

Anyway I got this free Domino (record label) CD with my copy of this month’s Wire magazine and as I sat eating my beans on toast and listening to it I found myself getting increasingly pissed off with its poxy uninterestingness. Track after track (I only got up to the Pest one, which I kind of liked for it’s dumb funkiness) of well-played, well-arranged, well-recorded snore fodder.

My heart beats so fast when I’m wasted. Last night I was sure I could detect some kind of arrhythmia shit going on. I resolved to listen to my heart-disease records today but I haven’t had the nerve. I’m too old to die young, surely?

I’m so skint at the moment. Yesterday I couldn’t even afford red wine to go with Antiques Roadshow.

And my hair’s shit as well. I’m heading for an Autechre cut again soon, I can feel it. I always so I’m going to let it grow into some kind of envelope-pushing freak statement, or a the very least be long enough to flatter my features, and then it just starts to make me look like a diseased owl or some kind of deserter from the German army. At this point I make vague plans to actually visit a barbers and get a quiff or some other style compromise, and then I don’t, and eventually out come the clippers and I get a Sean Booth cut. I’d say this has been the pattern since about 1994. I’m like one of those middle-aged women they have on What Not To Wear who can’t break out of the 80s or whatever.

Posted February 18, 2003 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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