Touch the screen and feel the music
Woke up Saturday caked in sweat. The O'C was coming over for a quick jam and some beers, so I pulled myself together and got stoned.
The jam went well, - beers were consumed, spliffs smoked and music made. The O'C was skinning up like there was no tomorrow and by the time it was four o'clock I was very lean.
The Professor called and announced his imminent arrival in London to, as he put it, "get drunk". Faced with a night of heavy drinking I needed a quick nap to rid myself of the THC raging through my body. The O'C, initially game for some alcohol based evening activities, made his excuses and left. To be fair, I was having thoughts of chickening out too, but knew this would not be an option. I made some lunch and poured myself some rum and coke.
By the time the Professor arrived I was stoned AND drunk. We quelched some beers and anti-narcoleptic prescription pills the Professor had ordered earlier. They didn't exactly do much, and I think the Professor's obsession with amphetamines had made him go to desperate lengths. I was a bit miffed, too, because he didn't tell me he was going to put in the order. What good are drugs that keep you awake if you don't have drugs to put you to sleep? So no clonazepam, no diazepam, no pamela at all in fact. Good move, Professor..
When darkness crept up we headed for the 'Ditch. In a news agent on City Road we bought two bottles of Buckfast. It doesn't exactly taste nice, but if it is good enough for council estate kids in Glasgow it is good enough for me.
The foundry was open so we got some drinks and hung out. Several coke deals were taking place, resulting in one punter being escorted off the premises, high as a kite.
Inevitably, as we were getting plastered, the subject of a squat party arose in our conversation. Acquaintances of ours were having a do in Streatham, but the thought of going there didn't appeal to us in any way. Rumours had it that Headfuk was organising a party so attempts were made to find out where. The Professor struck up a conversation with some random stranger equally intent on going to wherever Headfuk was taking place.
After they called time at the Foundry our next destination was the Strongroom. Not quite sure why we went there, but I think it involved the Professor's new friend and details about a party. We sat on the benches outside in the courtyard drinking Buckfast when we were joined by three guys also looking for the Headfuk party. One of them (his name was Nitin if I remember correctly) tried to explain a method he had developed involving making music by touching monitors and channelling the radiation from the screens through the body and out via gold mask. How this is supposed to work, or even what it is supposed to do was beyond me and the Buckfast didn't help my understanding.
Whilst I was drinking and trying to get to grips with masked musicians touching monitors, the Professor was already getting into trouble. Two fuckwits where in the process of getting kicked out due to a felony of which I was blissfully unaware, and the Professor obviously had to step in. I decided not to get involved with any of the Professor's antics and finished the Buckfast. Two from our company finally got word that the Headfuk party was taking place in Alperton, NW London. After much deliberation the Professor and I joined Nitin and his mate in a minicab and headed for the world's largest industrial estate. Once inside we bought some base and pills and got even more wasted. The gabba on offer was pathetic but thankfully there was some very decent drum and bass being played. Despite being in Alperton Lane, there was hardly a crackhead in sight which was extremely refreshing. The venue was a fairly new place with lots of space and hardly any piss. The beers cost £2, though, which I must say was completely out of order. I obvioulsy wasn't that bothered seeing as I was already tanked up on a liter of Buckfast, multiple ruma nd cokes and a plethora of beers, but when I take base I need to drink alcohol.
There was no attitude at the party and whilst the Professor was off doing his own thing I lost my bodyweight in sweat making my moves in the D'n'B room.
The sun rose and we decided to head back before the drugs wore off and we realised where we were and how little money we had left. Took the central line to Liverpool Street and asked if the station staff there if they could make an announcement for Mike Leberkaas, which they did.
However funny that was, I was knackered and pushed for the journey home. We walked through the City back towards Islington, bought some Guinness, cans of Nourishment and the Sunday Sport. The rest of the day was spent doing nothing, listening to Motorhead's greatest whilst trying to communicate without speaking. By 3pm the 'peth hadn't worn off, but I still felt weak and uninspired so I resorted to listening to the Community Shield on radio as opposed to seeing the game in the pub.
Still buzzing but physically exhausted, I finally succumbed to sleep around 2.30am. another day, another assortment of liver-threatening antics.
The jam went well, - beers were consumed, spliffs smoked and music made. The O'C was skinning up like there was no tomorrow and by the time it was four o'clock I was very lean.
The Professor called and announced his imminent arrival in London to, as he put it, "get drunk". Faced with a night of heavy drinking I needed a quick nap to rid myself of the THC raging through my body. The O'C, initially game for some alcohol based evening activities, made his excuses and left. To be fair, I was having thoughts of chickening out too, but knew this would not be an option. I made some lunch and poured myself some rum and coke.
By the time the Professor arrived I was stoned AND drunk. We quelched some beers and anti-narcoleptic prescription pills the Professor had ordered earlier. They didn't exactly do much, and I think the Professor's obsession with amphetamines had made him go to desperate lengths. I was a bit miffed, too, because he didn't tell me he was going to put in the order. What good are drugs that keep you awake if you don't have drugs to put you to sleep? So no clonazepam, no diazepam, no pamela at all in fact. Good move, Professor..
When darkness crept up we headed for the 'Ditch. In a news agent on City Road we bought two bottles of Buckfast. It doesn't exactly taste nice, but if it is good enough for council estate kids in Glasgow it is good enough for me.
The foundry was open so we got some drinks and hung out. Several coke deals were taking place, resulting in one punter being escorted off the premises, high as a kite.
Inevitably, as we were getting plastered, the subject of a squat party arose in our conversation. Acquaintances of ours were having a do in Streatham, but the thought of going there didn't appeal to us in any way. Rumours had it that Headfuk was organising a party so attempts were made to find out where. The Professor struck up a conversation with some random stranger equally intent on going to wherever Headfuk was taking place.
After they called time at the Foundry our next destination was the Strongroom. Not quite sure why we went there, but I think it involved the Professor's new friend and details about a party. We sat on the benches outside in the courtyard drinking Buckfast when we were joined by three guys also looking for the Headfuk party. One of them (his name was Nitin if I remember correctly) tried to explain a method he had developed involving making music by touching monitors and channelling the radiation from the screens through the body and out via gold mask. How this is supposed to work, or even what it is supposed to do was beyond me and the Buckfast didn't help my understanding.
Whilst I was drinking and trying to get to grips with masked musicians touching monitors, the Professor was already getting into trouble. Two fuckwits where in the process of getting kicked out due to a felony of which I was blissfully unaware, and the Professor obviously had to step in. I decided not to get involved with any of the Professor's antics and finished the Buckfast. Two from our company finally got word that the Headfuk party was taking place in Alperton, NW London. After much deliberation the Professor and I joined Nitin and his mate in a minicab and headed for the world's largest industrial estate. Once inside we bought some base and pills and got even more wasted. The gabba on offer was pathetic but thankfully there was some very decent drum and bass being played. Despite being in Alperton Lane, there was hardly a crackhead in sight which was extremely refreshing. The venue was a fairly new place with lots of space and hardly any piss. The beers cost £2, though, which I must say was completely out of order. I obvioulsy wasn't that bothered seeing as I was already tanked up on a liter of Buckfast, multiple ruma nd cokes and a plethora of beers, but when I take base I need to drink alcohol.
There was no attitude at the party and whilst the Professor was off doing his own thing I lost my bodyweight in sweat making my moves in the D'n'B room.
The sun rose and we decided to head back before the drugs wore off and we realised where we were and how little money we had left. Took the central line to Liverpool Street and asked if the station staff there if they could make an announcement for Mike Leberkaas, which they did.
However funny that was, I was knackered and pushed for the journey home. We walked through the City back towards Islington, bought some Guinness, cans of Nourishment and the Sunday Sport. The rest of the day was spent doing nothing, listening to Motorhead's greatest whilst trying to communicate without speaking. By 3pm the 'peth hadn't worn off, but I still felt weak and uninspired so I resorted to listening to the Community Shield on radio as opposed to seeing the game in the pub.
Still buzzing but physically exhausted, I finally succumbed to sleep around 2.30am. another day, another assortment of liver-threatening antics.
posted by tseuq at 8/08/2005 03:29:00 pm
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