So my parents now officially know the address of my website. Scary. I guess this is like the first time Marilyn Manson’s parents went to see him perform live…hmmm do i wear the black crotchless corset or the red one… Still i’d rather be Marilyn Manson’s parents than say the Pussycat sluts or Christina Aguilera or some other vacuous husk.

Mr Manson: Not counting the millions of dollars he has, my son (sic) believes he’s the antichrist, but is reasonably intelligent and has multiple degrees.
Mr Pussycat Slut: Oh we’re a….we’re not counting the money then? ah….ok….well….My daughter’s a ah….no….talent….trollop….

Not that i would ever try to justify the ‘acquiring’ of music in any way shape or form or by any means other than purchasing it at your local music store or through the iTunes that these kids are playing with today…but i kind of had a thought today that regular concert-goers are far more beneficial to the artists themselves than their loyal catalogue-hungry fan base. I have no viable statistics whatsoever here and Phil may need to back me up/contradict me but the more biographies and autobiographies that i read of people in the ‘scene’ it seems like the percentage from each record sale actually lining the pocket of the artist is miniscule at best. Yet when i think about it – particularly after me and Silk were trying to work out how much Mudhoney were pulling from their recent tour – it seems the best way to show appreciation both physically and fiscally is to show up at the gig. I don’t know if the old songwriters breakdown happens when performing live in terms of splitting up the kitty, but once the venue and promo people are paid the rest must go to the band and roadies right? That’s got to be a bigger percentage than off a CD and playing to a packed venue is more easily assessed as to the progress of the band than a top 250 charting single in Denmark…

If that is the case then i can rest a hell of a lot easier.

I have tried to change my ways but the simple fact is i will only buy copious amounts of CD’s when i get back to Oz. It’s not something you can easily travel with. I have been fairly selective in purchasing cd’s while abroad and still have a good 100 or so to lug around with me. I set myself a goal where i was going to spend 50€ a month in this cd store in Sachsenhausen thinking i was contributing something back. It’s a fucking second-hand store! The artist gets nothing from me anyway. Last time i went in i came out with 3 Bob Dylan CD’s, Bruce Springsteen’s Darkness on the Edge of Town and the best of the Small Faces. I don’t think any of these people are seeing a dime of my 30 odd euros. Is it better to line the pockets of some re-sellers or keep my money to buy the proper cd’s at a later date? Ponderous.

I’m wondering how long i can maintain this facade and not talk about poo…

I’ve been noticing that German women, or should i say women in Germany, seem to have no qualms at all about wearing fur. There is not even the slightest bit of embarrassment or uncertainty about how they will be received…no it is with utmost pride that they bandy about their minks and ferret(?) coats (please note i have no idea what furs are made of and can only guess here). I don’t really have a problem with this either, it’s just curious to me. It’s like that whole PETA furore never happened over here.

You’d probably get lynched for wearing real fur in the UK or the US i’d imagine. At least drenched in paint by a plastic punk. This woman sat next to me on the train and absolutely reeked of perfume like she had been swimming in it. I couldn’t breathe properly. As i was feeling feint and slowly passing out i caught a glimpse of her fur coat out of the corner of my eye and for some reason all i could imagine was that she was the old woman from 101 Dalmatians. I wasn’t sure if i should look at her on my way out and ruin my dream or just duck her and keep the dream alive…

Today i sat next to the old woman from 101 Dalmatians on the train…and she stank…

I think i am the only person in the bank wearing rubber-soled hush-puppies…i.e. the only person not wearing proper leather shoes. I only realise this when i have to go to the bathroom. There are these two corridors i must walk down which are quite narrow so everything reverberates. You can hear my shoes squelching away and then the clippity-clop of leather soles behind me that sounds like even the guys are wearing high heels. To compensate i drag my shoes a little bit and slide…cue internal monologue “i don’t even walk i slide motherfucker!”

(note my use of onomatopoeia in the previous paragraph. There is not enough onomatopoeia used today. I think three mentions of onomatopoeia justifies me tagging the word right?)

While i’m at it, i really fucking hate the phrase “Pick up your feet”. It’s just idiotic. How can one even do that? It’s not like it’s the total opposite of what you want, a la “Break a leg”…it’s pretty fucking directional.

I digress. I don’t think i have them fooled though. Probably the fact that my trousers are baggy and not tailored at all doesn’t lend itself to my decreasing professional image. I’m never going to be one of them.

I’m not going to lose too much sleep over that either just quietly.