The iAmMojo and BronzeHedgehog identities stretch back far too long, and refere to far too many past versions of myself who I no longer associate with.
Bronzehedgehog was the game I used to play Quake under in the school computer room. It was the name of one of my first email addresses, and my only real MSN name.
IamMojo was my name on the OxfordRomance university dating site. It was used for forums, and finally for Lj.
I've been told there's a way of getting your entire LJ put into a PDF, so I'll investigate that.
Tonight I went out with Marty and we went and saw bands and had a great time.
On the train back, I spoke to the spanish woman next to me, and ended up talking to her daughter, who doesn't speak very much english at all, and I don't speak very good spanish, but it was cool: I love such experiences. We talked about the films of Julio Medlem.
I really think now that I have no regrets about last year: How else would I know some spanish, and spanish film? How else would I have been able to talk to the swedish girl at that event, or intrigue the finnish girl in that london club by speaking their languages. How else would I have seen Scandinavia, spent a weekend in a real summerhouse, been out in Helsinki, been to Barcelona and partied with the natives.
I have a job that is interesting enough not to want to spend all my time on Lj at work. I have all these photos I was gonna post, but in the end the main reason I would be doing it is for an ego boost, and I don't want my happiness or self worth to be dependent on the praise of practical strangers anymore.
(ps. I'm not saying that everyone else is posting photos for that reason)
Lot of things need doing: no ironing board, no hand towel in the bathroom,
Not complaining you understand: I relish the idea of sorting things out, of making places habitable and clean. It's something my parents passed down to me.
Also, while I tend to have an UNhealthy irrational respect for authority, I expect it to hold up it's end of the bargain: the landlord is going to hear Words from me.
Right: now I'm off to sort out my sleeping arrangements and make my sliding door secure.
Was at the edinburgh festival with my family for a couple of days. Saw some amazing theatre, and some utterly painful stuff as well.
Last night, went to Milton Keynes for a friend's engagement party. Felt very grown up and very immature at the same time. Kissed a cute redhead and won the game of poker. Ate too much sugar.
Tonight me and my dad went to see 'Volver' at the new multiplex. It's pretty damn good. Cruz is excellent. I love the spanish traditions and superstitions, and the big old houses around courtyards- like the romans. Saw some trailers I hadn't seen before: 'Children of Men' looks AMAZING: Clive Owen, Julianne Moore AND the rising legend that is Chiwetel Ejiofor, doing dystopic apocalyptic humanist sci-fi. Awesome.
Need to find a flat over the next couple of days. May be stressful.
So last night, I was trying to get something to eat. Barcelona is a big place. To cut short the long self-rant which I had in my head while I was walking around, I am RUBBISH at actually getting things done. I mean, I´m great at getting around, pretty good at mapreading and Experiencing a place, meeting people, all of that, but when it comes to finding a place to eat or to buy something, I am UTTERLY USELESS. I took about 5 metro journeys to promising sounding spots, but either a) found nothing, b) found full places, or c) ruled places out on the grounds that they were too touristy, not spanish, or too intimidating (I am easily, irrationally intimidated). So yeah, basically walked around, hungrier and hungrier for maybe two whole hours before going back to this big tapas tent I´d been to before, there because that area of the city was having a big week-long fiesta.
anyway: ************************************************* INTERESTING PART OF THE STORY STARTS HERE *************************************************
So this guy with the group sitting next to me starts talking to me, and to be honest I was just thinking 'I'd really love to be able to interact properly and meet some actual spanish people after days of french kids, but I´m FUCKING NACKERED and just want to run away and sleep. So anyway, for the most part he just let me be, but in the end he invited me to come and walk the narrow streets of Gracia with him (Toni/Antonio) and his friends and see the festival.
So I thought, what the fuck: What kind of traveller do I think I am if I pass up this opportunity. So I went with them, even though I was exhausted. And it was great: I was chatting to them in a mixture of spanish, french and english (people like you SO much more if you try and speak their language) and we ended up at this street party with a dj and bar set up in the narrow tall street and we danced, and then we went around the back of the stage where there was more room and we danced properly. I tell you, I was so glad I had a good few weeks of salsa experience under my belt.
I said I was going to go get the night bus, but when they saw me going, these young catalan girls said no nono, you´re staying and dancing. So I did, and it was great, and they said I was a great dancer, and right then, I think I was: without the pressure of a trained salsa/merengue dancefloor, where people expect you to impress them (or you feel like they do), this was just relaxed and cool and fun and for about quarter of an hour I was a latin dance-god.
I ended up staying until the end at half 3 (Toni said they were headed that way anyway and he would drive me back to the hostel), and I´m glad I did, but I was utterly exhaused. So we drifted off when the music stopped. Then there was about 10 minutes when it was just me and toni, and the others were trying to gather together.
-Duncan. You like girls? -Yes, I like girls -Girls and boys?
It took me a few seconds to realise he was coming on to me, by which time I´d ill-advisedly told him that I haven't ruled out man-love in principle, but actually, now that you´re trying to kiss me, no Tony, no.
-Are you sure? -Toni I don´t want to -Why not? -I don´t feel like it -I don't think you're sure enough
Le sigh. Tony. You don't get it do you: even if I could have decided that I fancied you in other circumstances, you're the father figure here: you introduced me to this little world and took me under your wing. And there's no way I'm gonna fall for my father: going all Elektra would require being considerably more in touch with my feminine side than I'm prepared to be right now.
So let´s just recap here. Maybe he Was being friendly, but I've been a man long enough to suspect that actually he Mainly asked me along because he fancied me. Recognising this was an interesting trip into girly shoes for me. Whence comes this cynicism, this arrogance? where is the fluffy duncan of 7 odd years ago? Quien sabes.
Anyway. It was fine. He drove me back (one of the girls asleep in the back seat) and I fell asleep in the car, and when we arrived I kissed him on both cheeks, as I assume is the custom, and I was genuinenly really greatful for that evening, but then he kissed me on the lips, and that sort of spoiled it. But hey, no hard feelings.
And that's a phrase which can be taken several ways.
The plane was late, but everything worked out fine.
Wandered around the city late last night. Cooolness. My first real experience of the spanish late culture- people sitting everywhere with beers late into the night.
Itś not a clean place, but then I guess itś not a priority. And Xavier said in "L´auberge Espagnol": To call Barcelona a dirty city is not just offensive, itś racist!
Talked to some people. I really think I have enough spanish to get by.
Lots of french people here, some Australians (but of course), canadians.
This evening I wandered around the night-city. Hot lesbians (Gay pride parade today). Not-so-hot lesbians. Many, many camp/bald men. Achingly ACHE-ingly hip girls in 60's style. People everywhere, on the beach in the dark, under the waxing moon. Warm night cool breeze. Little parties. Great atmosphere.
Only, I felt like I was waiting for someone to find me, to approach me and ask me to join their little party, have a drink, whatever. Of course this didn't happen.
Again I curse my pathalogical paranoia about approaching people I haven't been introduced to.
By 11pm I was going in circles and it all seemed pointless and a little sad, so I went 'home'. I was getting tired anyway.
I have to hunt for flats. I hate hunting for things on the internet. HATE. It makes me stressed for no very good reason and I can't concentrate and almost have panic attacks.
I should just get the fuck on with it and do what I came here to do and write my play and stop fantasising that I'm going to conjure up an adventure/social life out of nowhere. But I've never been good at doing what I'm supposed to.
Funny how We (I?) approach the big life-changing moments with complete blazé indifference.
Perhaps it's just because I don't really have any close friends here, except Mark.
I leave work on friday, Malvern a few days after. I could have been gone by may, living closer in to London, being paid more. Do I regret that? I'm not sure. 'Will the summer make good for all our sins?'
Tonight we're having a 'gig' in the empty room left by my flatmate, a PA cobbled together from a bass amp, two stereo speakers and some computer speakers.
Awesome.
My sister stayed the last 3 nights, near the end of her taking a load of American kids around the UK. It was nice. She never got to hear us play though: her train was so late that she missed the end of our practice.
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iammojo's journal
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