emo.ware

travel time

emoware@gmail.com

speaking of which, the new drunken butterfly comic is out, and because it's me who runs this shit, you can view it here too:

i told you that night would be better described as a comic.

and maybe it's time for some travel news. apparently i'm going to berlin on thursday, if everything works out. that's the 18th through to the 22nd. then we're going to aarhus the following sunday and monday. after that we're going west. we're flying to boston on april 17th, travelling around a bit, then returning from toronto on may 11th (just days after the toronto comics and art festival, which is a happy coincidence). if you need to know anything else just ask. smiley face.

backstage and hating it

emoware@gmail.com

the more gigs i play, the more my hatred for the backstage room grows and solidifies. i really can't stand it. it's like a babbling quagmire of ass, thick with smoke and sticky with beer ("covered in honey"?).

backstage should be a safe place to store your equipment. a place to relax before your gig. even sleep if you need to. to eat miniture sandwiches, etc. put on your makeup in peace.

what it's not is a place for you and all your friends (and their friends) to pile in and smoke for the whole fucking night, shouting, vomiting and being generally obnoxious and smelly. coming off stage, i couldn't even squeeze into the room to put my guitars away. couldn't even see into the room for all the pot smoke. you have to worry about your backstage policy when there are more people backstage (drinking their own beers) than out actually watching the bands (and buying yours). maybe it's just the venues we play. i don't know.

but fuck it, our gig was great. totally oi!some. finally. so thanks to everyone who came and enjoyed it, all the people shouting oi! along with us. especially those wearing braces. we're totally going to make this scene work. oi! oi!

and i guess it helps we have a large cardboard "oi!" sign to prompt the crowd.

senseless etc

emoware@gmail.com

getting spun out from eating way too much sugar (meringues) and then going to see alice in wonderland 3D is about the best way the sunday could have ended. but to say what of it? that it felt more disney than burton? that too many scenes are filmed to exploit the (decades old) 3D technology, which you can only see at the cinema? sure it's a nice gimmick to get people back into theatres, but those impressive low tracking shots with massive depth and awesome perspectives, they're going to suck 99% of the time the film is watched. or maybe film producers don't care about the home market anymore, since it all pirated downloads.

on the other side of town, my language class suddenly increased from 6 students to 17. it might not be so good for learning danish, but it's definitely more socially interesting. whilst bringing down the percentage of people i can't stand, thereby making it less likely i have to work with them, it does increase their overall number. luckily the most annoying guy walked out halfway though, probably because he was fed up with being told to stop interrupting the teacher. we were all fed up of hearing him. i hope he doesn't come back.

a visiting friend taught us how to make proper thai food. it's all in the thai basil. who'd have thought?

anyway. i'm in cafe retro, sitting upstairs on the balcany. they have a fire downstairs. it smells incredbile. coffee and wood smoke. all they need know are vines creeping up and around everywhere.

as for the final sense, that's all about me not really feeling this whole blog thing right now. so nevermind.

why last night's dream

emoware@gmail.com

it feels like i spent half the night listening to the birds. unlike in other parts of the city, the birds are real here. although i'd much rather be asleep, dreaming of that huge boat, trying to upgrade my student accomodation. all my dreams of being back at university collide, one triggers the rest in a chain reaction that concertinas together in a most untuneful manner. all those halls and corridors that never existed, but still manage to make me nostalgic. strange stairways and rows of doors, shared living rooms and kitchen. but, a boat? i don't know.

i finally got around to rereading and (at long last) finishing y: the last man. it took me three or four days, and now i feel like i've lost something. there's nothing like a story concluding so completely to absolutely kill you. i almost wish i'd stopped a few issues short of the end, whilst it was meandering and losing direction. i didn't need my heart broken like that. it was the time traveller's wife all over again. anyway. i think i can confidently say it's one of the best comic series i've ever read. and i mean that.

now i just need to act on what i've learnt.

um. the american remake of spaced is so much worse than you could possibly imagine.

and i keep getting that song from the army recruitment advert in my head, the one that could actually be an american apparel advert. makes me feel sick.

post id 666

emoware@gmail.com

weekend special - two for one on sundays. the only catch is you have to get completely wasted on friday night. but that's easy enough when you're tag-teaming a cafe shift and getting free drinks because the beer taps are calibrated wrong.

busiest shift i've ever taken though. people had to jump in and bail us out. running out of beer on taps one, four and six. running out of glasses to put the beer in. "you want four cappuccinos?". the number of times we got "cola" mixed up with "corona" (you drunk danish need to fucking learn how to enunciate). i didn't even have time to drink my coffee.

but i think the night might be better described as a comic. at least then i can use abstract dots and lines to fill in all the gaps. like the part of the night where i had kenneth's keys. i can't remember that. i can deduce it though, so there's no escaping the fact that it was my fault they became locked inside the practice room. which is better than almost all other possibilities. fuck knows, i might have even eaten them for all i know. at 5am that shit could really ruin your night.

why do these nights (originally wrote "things", nice anagram) always end in such a fucking mess? and i'd even stopped drinking at 10pm, excluding swigs from the various bottles of jagermeister being passed around the hjortene crowd, of course. great gig, btw. all three sets. like i remember much of the last, just jolle rolling around the floor.

and i still managed to get up early the next morning. had wrongs to rights and all that. and it was a nice moment, walking around town somewhat still drunk, the success of finding the keys. then walking all the way through vesterbro to an art exhibition.

making 'toad in the hole'. reading comics. playing guitar. nursing my sore neck. sewing an irredeemable pair of trousers whilst watching avril lavigne 'rock out' in montmartre. and now i have a week to deal with? crap.