18 days

Feeling rough as fuck today... I spent all my money (or what little money I had left) on booze and fags instead of having any dinner. Oops.

Not too sure what to make of the gig last night... it was pretty dreadful, and that's not even talking about our performance (which wasn't, but more later). Apart from the fuss of getting all the band to the venue in the first place, it wasn't particularly well organised (my thoughts on which were shared with anyone who didn't mind me coughing and spluttering in their face), leaving me getting a lift from Posh's mum out to Paisley to pick up a guitar amp we weren't expecting to need, which was actually pretty funny. Came back to find members of the other bands running back and forth trying to get a hold of various drum bits 'n' bobs, so we still didn't have a full backline till way after the doors were supposed to be. It started getting as bad as all the bands having to share plectrums...

There was no fucker there, either... well, it wasn't as bad as playing to just the other bands, there were a handful of folks there to see Minus3, but the place definatately wasn't jumping. That's to be expected on a Tuesday night in the West End, it's hard to get people to make the effort to get out there, and it didn't help that none of us really made the effort to get people to go... people can't go to gigs they don't know about. Jamie Sucker™ came round to see us (he lives just round the corner) which was pretty cool, good to catch up with him.

So, up we go to play. Personally, I thought it was at least a competent performance... pretty damn tight and definately much better than we've been before. My voice even kept up most of the time, I was sure I was going to lose it again, considering I spent half the night choking to death. Yeah... we were definately pretty good. Cuff seems to agree with me, though he didn't seem too comfortable playing completely sober! No idea what Posh made of it (he spent most of the night God-only-knows-where with his lovely lady), but Cuff tells me today that Scruff thought it was the worst gig, ever. Not just the worst Minus3 gig ever, but the worst gig ever period. Not that it was just our performance he wasn't happy about, he thought the whole night in general was a farce, though he seems to think we were all over the place... not how I remember it, but that happens. Usually it's the other way round... the punters I spoke to afterwards seemed to think we were damn good (including Jamie and Meech, two people who aren't afraid to tell people when they suck), and I guess that's what's important.

Anyway, we came off, and in true rawk fashion I sat up the back and continued on my way to getting drunk. In not-so-true-rawk fashion, after PH's set Posh's mum drove me into town (and Meech, Posh and Mhari home) and dropped me off at Buchanan station, where I proceeded to drunkenly stumble to Janette's flat, where I spouted a whole bunch of drunken gibberish before passing out. No idea what time I fell asleep, but I was starting to get really annoyed at myself for getting drunk and smoking so much (after doing so well with quitting), I couldn't stop coughing my lungs up from this damn snotty hayfever crap, and I just generally didn't feel as good as I wanted to.

And to cut a long story short, that was my night.

I think I'll stay clean and sober at tonight's Kamikazes gig...

Today, as usual, I can't be bothered, but I guess I should get working soon. Now, actually. Maybe.