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Corruptissima re publica plurimae leges

hey yallz sorry we havent updated in a while but I’ve been. I don’t know. Busy living my life. I will start with most recently and work my way backwards. here goes.

Kacey, my little freshman friend has been visiting me on her spring break from NYU and we have been galavanting about town like two galavanting loons. Here is a list of things we have done
1. We went to Amsterdam. Twas fun. We got propositioned by prosties, ate a ton of frites, were kept awake at all hours by nazi-esque german boys (who kacey is sure called me a prostitute in german. cant blame the boy really), saw some cultural shit. and ate pancakes. and…uh….visited some coffee shops. good times.

2. We went to Camden Town to get lunch which ended up being a day long field trip to get my back tattooed. FInally we got it done just across the street in Kings Cross. It hurt like a BITCH and Emily, Ryan. and Kacey just sat there like a bunch of loonies whilst i felt like my epidermis was being ripped out by a scalpel. ick. but was all worth it in the end as i was rewarded with this banger. so straight and also parfait. It says: Corruptissima re publica plurimae leges. Which is Latin for: In the most corrupt state are the most laws. YAY.

3. Went to the Roxy. Drank the Stoned Peach pitcher between the 2 of us within about 12 minutes. Yeah. not quite the finest wine in all of humanity but it will do. Pretty sure 70% of my facebook pics are of me holding/hugging/making out with….a pitcher. note to self. replace pitcher with hot boys.

4. Went to Girl Talk. Was amazing. Got there 2 minutes before GT went on and still somehow managed to end up on stage within 2 feet of the dude. What I love about GT is that he is like…a totally normal dude. With just an enormous love and ear for music. I mean. He’s awesome. Livin the dream.

We’ve done more stuff but I can’t fully elaborate on it at the moment due to my deteriorating memory catch/herbal/bricklane/harrods/primark/hydepark/familydinner are a few other keywords that spring to mind.

What else have I done lately…nothing too spectacular. going out alot. went to a house party and drank a whole bottle of wine with a straw. got seckshully harassed by hoxton security. witnessed what I am sure to be domestic violence on Old Street. and other stuff. you know. the ush.

On the music front, I have been listening to some new stuff lately. The biggest surprise so far is a recent XL signing Golden Silvers. I had to transcribe all the lyrics from their debut album so I listened to it quite intensely obviously, and I have to say I really enjoyed every single song on the album. Which is a big rarity for a band I have never heard before. They are kind of like TV On the Radio mixed with Patrick Wolf mixed with….i dunno. and spaced out Colin Meloy. Really good and diverse mix of tracks. I think they iz gonna blow up. Listen to their Myspace tracks and prepare to be amazed.

Also, the new Morrissey album=love. I seriously don’t know how this guy is still putting out new music. Like…how many songs has he written? this is getting to the point of ridiculosity. stilll. Something is Squeezing my Skull and Throwing My Arms Around Paris. Come on. choonz.

And SPEAKING of Paris. I am going to be studying for a month and half at the Le Conservatoire Européen d’Ecriture Audiovisuelle with Tisch doing digital nonfiction filmmaking and studying French New Wave. Can I get a hellz yeah. Which also means I am graduating early. So before you all know it, I’ll be bugging you for a job. get excited.

Going to make a new mix to put up soon, but currently working the desk at XL so I don’t have access to my extensive and amazing audio library.

Till next time poppets,
Dame Samantha

Buenos Aires: the island of lost toys

Dear Cruel World,

Spank me silly and slap me side ways. It is udderly reprehensible that I have not posted on this blessed wall in some near three weeks. THE HORROR. Please rest assured that I have been self-flagellating (in every way possible) in order to punish myself for the temporary hiatus of sexual and kinky love.

But alas, I must tell you of the sacred and erotic city in which I currently reside. Buenos Aires is the sanctuary of udder crackdom. Udder. Crack. Sherry, Sherry, you have no idea. I can barely remember half the crack that’s gone down since I arrived with my two suitcases in hand and leather man bag clutched like a mewling babe to my breast. But I shall try to recount to the best of my ability some of the misadventures I’ve been so blessed to stumble upon.

Firstly I must say that the people who live here all look like they’ve just fallen out of a Dolce & Gabbana add. Like seriously, I can barely make the 15 minute walk to school without creaming myself so hard it feels like a bottle of Ready Whip just exploded in my pants. Honestly, EVERYONE is attractive. It’s horrible and wonderful at the same time. Also, one of my professors is gorgeous, but apparently he’s tossing his sausage exclusively at some other Argentine fellow. I’m telling you, I just can’t compete. Oh, well, life goes on.

And so it does. I was at this three story gay club last weekend that resembled an underground secret city. A city in which all the inhabitants don’t wear shirts and whose erect cocks pop like daisies from their beltloops. One of these cocks was especially chocolate bar-like and tried to nuzzle me by the urinal in the bathroom. All I could do was stifle my pee (ouch! hello, urinary tract infection) and flee the premesis, genitals unscathed. I spent the rest of that night dancing like a shirtless, ebola-infected monkey on a giant platform in the middle of the dancefloor. After that I was relieved to find my oasis in an open McDonalds (yes they have McDons here, thanks be to Allah, except they are like the same price as in the US, which makes it a “splurge” restaurant for most of the people here…). I ordered a d-cheese with bacon (sorry d-samanth), a coke and fries, but ended up eating all of that plus the chix nugs that my sea-weasy companion was at the moment not interested in.

Other nights have been filled with more Argentine things and less NYC things (like fags and d-cheeses). My Greecian apartment mate and I have frequented some pretty fantastic milongas where the locals play sweet tango jams during which I attempt to put to use my 4 classes worth of tango skills (FAIL). Also I enjoy drinking liters of beer for like 3 pesos (less than US$1).

The meat here is also very good (both kinds of meat, might I add). Tender, juicy and supple. Yummm.

Well there is tons more I have to tell you, but at the moment I must go get drunk and see some drag show. FABULOUS. I will post more soon, my dearest, dearest readers.

Fondling yours,
Jah-mez

Are you still talking to all of those dead film stars like you used to? And are you still thinking of all of those pretty lines and perfect crimes like you used to love?

So here I am sat in office o’ production at KOKO in Camden. Its quite nice actually,the atmosphere is quite jovial, despite the tour manager that is determined to give American women a bad rap. Looks like another day spent knocking about on the internet and attempting to write a paper on the Situationists Internationale. Clearly its not coming along very quickly. In fact its not coming at all. If this paper were a dude, we would be having a very awkward time in bed together. Anyways, the past couple of days I’ve been quite out of the loop as I’ve just been mostly sleeping or working. I came home lastnight around 9:15 and thought ohhh I’ll just rest my head before texting Ryan back since I got home early. Next thing I know its ONE FORTY FIVE AM. thats right. my 20 min catnap turned into a four and a half hour sleep fest. I am really at my wits end with this whole veritable narcoleptic disorder i seem to be developing. I would say maybe I’m developing mono but I don’t really feel ill in any other way. Its just like, when I come home I am compelled to rest my eyes under my fluffy comforter like a heroin addict might be compelled to stick a spike in his vein. Anyways, Ryan, if you are reading this, sorry.

So. The most eventful part of the last week I suppose would be that I got to FINALLY see Peteahhhhhh Doherty aka love of my life at Shepherds Bush Empire (danke to M. Bates for the guestylist!). My plus one cancelled on me (its OK emz I still heart you) so I had to scramble around and find someone else to go with. I am happy that Tracy decide to throw responsibility to the wind and accompany me. We arrived in good time to get some dranks and viddy the end of the openers. I don’t really remember then I was too excited about the prospect of being within a 100 ft of P. Doh. He came on right on time and played for a little over an hour. I can honestly say (and Tracy wholeheartedly agreed) that it felt like it last five minutes. Every song just sort of melted into the other. It was wonderful. He was extremely well behaved and sound amazing. Like, for the first time I thought he actually had a classically good voice as opposed to just an acquired taste that I happen to have. I loved that Graham Coxon played with him, cause he is amazerazerazing and I am SO EXCITED to see Blur play Hyde Park this summer. Adam and Drew were looking spicy and snappydappy as ever, and there was even some string section that played during some songs. I was a bit envious of people in the pit, although we did have a very good view of the stage. I think I shall venture up Commercial Road for his show at the Troxy in March. ‘Citing. Standouts were “Last of the English Roses” Which is the new single off Grace/Wastelands, the acoustic version of “Music When The Lights Go Out” was tear inducing as usual, Time For Heroes was a total diva-licking banger with Graham Coxon finally playing Carl’s solo with some dignity for the first time since Pete’s been playing it without him. “I Am The Rain” was surprisingly quite good, and “New Love Grows On Trees”, which has been one of my favorite creations from way back in the Babyshambles Sessions of 2003, finally got a proper treatment, which made me just giddy. After the show I insisted at stopping at the 24 hour bagel shop as I always do when I find myself in Sheppy Sheppy Bush Bush and ended up get “mish-mash” on a plain bagel toasted, which the man at the counter says “no one has tried to order that ever before, so I’ll only charge you one pound for it”….fine with me old chap. It DID endup tasting a bit weird as the “mishmash” was actually just spiced mashed sweet potatoes. The carb on carb did not have the enhancing effect I was expecting. Ahhhh well. c’est la vie. Here is a multimedia extravaganza of Pete for you to enjoy. OH, and Pete won the NME award for best Male Solo Artist yay. He also got quite cozy with Carlos Barat aka his secret lover. Naturally the NME jizzed all over themselves (which caused quite a logistical problem considering the tightness of their jeans), so if you want play by play coverage, they gots it, I wont post all of it here. But you can check it out here

Last of the English Roses video: I fond it very odd that the lyrics of this song seem to be about a girl, yet the official music video features a total of zero girls, and to top it off, a semi-awkward guy on guy makeout sesh. This may be way out of the ballpark but Pete may be trying to tell us something: That all of his songs he pretends are about girls are actually about boys. More specifically Carl. Anyways YOU be the judge

And here is Pete talking backstage @ the NME awards saying that he WILL convince Carl to reform the Libertines. Which means I will obviously have to find a way to return here asap.

Thats all chums.

xox,

Dame Samantha

While everyone’s lost, the battle is won, with all these things that I’ve done.

Holy. Schnikies. Last night. Was insane. 2 days ago my dirty delectable friend Nicki told me that I would be accompanying her to the War Child Benefit at Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Coldplay and The Killers were headlining. I was positively titilated because the Killers have been my one of my favorite bands since I was 14. Seriously Hot Fuss had such an effect on me, the title of this post was my senior quote. Sad but true. I had seen them once before in Sacramento. I was in the fronty front and I had just a jolly good time, so I was interested to see them in such a different environment. As for Coldplay….welll I couldnt give two tosses really but Nicki loves them.

So we arrive at around 1015 (it was a post Brit awards thing so quite late) so it was a but of a party atmosphere. We went to the guestlist lady who gave us VIP passes and aftershow wristbands. nice. We were directed to the 1st balcony, which I was a bit saddened by really because I was looking forward to having a bit of a rustle about down with the plebes on the floor, but I think our situation turned out to be better in the end. We looked around and there were about 5 people in the entirety of the balcony. We looked like fools really just standing around and thought….its a little bit funny…this feeling inside…so we went to a security lady and were like….ok lady…where CAN we go? and she told us where our little VIP area was. There was just the sound guy standing there. so I was like…ok so WHERE can we procure some booze…I DEMAND TO HAVE SOME BOOZE!!….ok I said it a bit more nicely than that….and she pointed upstairs. We went inside and it was just packy packed to the gills with rather important looking people. I felt like we were the youngest ones there which made sense after I looked at the price on my ticket…£100! At least its going to a good cause. So we finally make our way up to the bar. I spied with my little eye a glint of that bright orangey-yellow label of…thats right…Veuve Cliquot. I thought to myself, man I bet thats expensive. But I thought what the hell I’ll ask how much it is. The bartender replied, oh its free! FREE?!? if you know me well at all one of the few things I cannot resist is free alcohol. I’m trying to calculate how much I can drink before The Killers come on in my head when Nicki says, hey I think that’s someone famous over there. I looked and it was fucking RICHARD ASHCROFT. I heart the Verve with unbridled enthusiasm. But being the calm collected non-fan girl that I am, I kept it cool cat status and just looked at him in my perif the entire night. But jeeeeesus what a legend. After about a minute I was like….aaaaand theres Courtney Love. She was looking quite skinny but rather rough, teetering on these enormous strappy stiletto numbers. So after downing as much champy as I could and forcing Nicki to keep up with me (possibly against her will), we decided to get prime leaning action against the banister. There were only 2 people now in our little area, but soon realized that everyone in our area were probably still AT the Brits. So the Killers came on and I lost my shit as ush. No one else around us seemed very excited but this rarely curbs my dancing. They only played for 45 mins which was farrrr too short, but they played all the hits. I tried to call my 12 year old sister Kathleen during Mr. Brightside because the Killers are one of the few bands we both love. I think I spent about £6 on the call to CA but it was worth it. cuz I ❤ her. But yeah B. Flo and co were in top form and sounded great. After they were done our section and the seated part across from us slowly started filling up. And then The Edge walked up behind me. Closely followed by Bono. no biggie. I also had an nice view of the dude from Pet Shop Boys just below me. I got into quite the conversation with the man next to me who was a writer for The Times. It somehow ended with me giving him my famous spinach-mango smoothie recipe and him giving me his contact info cause he wants me to babysit his 5 and 8 year old daughters. Seriously I feel like every conversation I’ve had lately had ended with an employment opportunity.

So Coldplay went on, and I have to say it wasnt bad. Chris Martin is a very charismatic frontman. but I soon got bored and went on various errands…a booze run for my newfound friends….fag break where I ran into Murph from the Wombats…toilet run where I may or may not have seen Courtney Love smoking and crying. poor thing. Came back just in time to hear….well fuck me I don’t even know the names if their songs. But anyways. After Coldplay’s set ended..uh….Take That came onstage? Who apparently are the UK version of like N*Sync. But they just got back together I guess. Whatever. Then B-Flo and Bono came onstage to sing “All These Things That I’ve Done” which really quite possibly my favorite Killers song. Courtney had reappeared and was totally rocking out. It was quite literally surreal and very insane.

After that we went back up to the bar for the afterparty thingy which was basically the same thing as what we were doing before the show but with fewer people. I spied one of the guys a befriended during the open bar war standing by the backstage door so we went and chatted to him and his friend for awhile. They were very drunk and very funny. Then Sienna Miller moseyed by. what the fuck. It was just too much. Nicki felt that all that lovely VC was going to come spurting out her gullet, so we said our goodbyes (it was about 230am by this time). I made her stop at the 24 hour bagel shop on the way to the bus stop. so worth it. I might start going out in Shepherds Bush just to eat there. Sooo few things are open late here its vair vair annoying.

So I bade Nicki good luck with her tummy troubles, ran upstairs, fell onto my bed fully clothed and makeuped (incl. shoes). Slept for a few hours, managed to have breakfast with EmilyMollyTracyVanessa before running to the Kentish Town Forum where I now sit freezing my little bum off waiting for some silly Finnish Metal band to arrive. oh life.

Till next time my little poppets,
Dame Samantha

I don’t need any love cause I’ve got the elements, electric light electric license.

Oh, Sherry Sherry. I had such a bizarre day on Friday. I left my humble abode at 9:20 am and didnt return until 2am in the morntime. that is a 17 hour day for those of you who cannot count. After rubbing a logo off of thousands of CDs at XL for hours and engaging in some serious guitar hero world tour, I went “down the boozer” as they say in these parts and had some drinkys before I had to run up to Kilburn to do a trial bar shift at the amazing Luminaire. I tried to leave 20 minutes earlier than I did but I had to argue with Patrick about whether I could give him a cigarette or not. Needless to say, I was 20 mins late and out of breath after running the 3/4 blocks from the tube stop (perhaps I should down on my cigarette consumption….or not). Anyways, I got there, I came, I saw, I conquered, veni vidi vici blah blah. I have to say I impressed myself for the first time doing a real bartending job (and by that I mean not just pouring the vodka and soda from behind the DJ booth at Hanger Bar [RIP]). One thing that really puzzled me was the girl working beside me whose boyfriend was there the whole time. I don’t want to go into detail to protect the innocent but the disparity between the attractiveness of native couples here really blows my mind. I’ll leave it at that. After my shift I learned that the guy who runs the bar was born just a few hours away from me, and went to Chico State, He lived here illegally for four years before he married someone and now he’s here legally on his 7th year. He’s just living the dream y’all. After I left I had to scurry like a little mouse down to the tube station to get on the train before it shut down. I wandered over to Camden to meet my friend Chris and co. at World’s End. It was pretty fun, although we tried to go to Dublin Castle afterward and they weren’t letting anyone else in. God knows what was going on there. So we went back to King’s Cross, and decided to check my email. My ethernet cord was working about as well as a fucked clock so I had to go into the study room on my floor, accessible only by my room key/card. When I’d finished feeding my technological addiction, I skipped out the door, only realize that I had left my key card sitting on the table. Meaning I couldnt get into my room or back into the study room. I was stranded in the hall at 2am essentially clutching my laptop to my bosom as lost small child might clutch a teddy bear. The only thing I could think to do was listen for talking coming from someone’s room and then politely knock on the door and ask them to borrow their room key so I could get back in to the study room. I knocked on one door and heard someone say “hello’? from the other side. I tried to explain my sitch from my side, but I just sort of sounded like I wanted to knife him. So he finally opens the door. Naked. And hands me his key. I splutter something embarrassing/incomprehensible and run over to get my key. I guess I sort of forgot in was Valentine’s eve (like that even means anything). Oh well. Story of my life. Daily humiliation.

Also, on a music related note, I went to go see The Thermals with my friend Ryan last week at the Lexington. I had never heard them before, but they were refreshingly great. They kind of sounded like the music I would listen to when I was about 16, but in a very non-shitty way. Yes it was very American indie/alterative verging on pop-punk. But the lyrics were very catchy and they playing tight. I’ve been listening to the back catalog and and new single, and it’s really quite addictive. We ran into the lead singer on a fag break outside the front (cue Ryan jizzing himself in a fanboy tizzy) and talked to hm for awhile and turns out he grew up in Norcal as well. yay. He was lovely. They are opening for the Cribs at Heaven. A show that I regrettably do not have tickets to. If you have one, please hand over. Here are a couple of their songs. One is their new single Now We Can See, and the other is a song I knew I was in love with from the minute I heard it, from their debut album. It was recorded in a bedroom and it definitely sounds like it, but Its awesome.

Ryan also did a write up on All Things Go, on which he is a guest blogger.

Now We Can See

Back to Gray

Das Black Lips

I also went to see the Black Lips at Islington Academy on Sunday (which saw the demise of my phone). The crowd was mostly full of rowdy teenage boys, some looked about 12. I sadly sadly very sadly missed The Soft Pack’s debut London show, due mine and Ryan’s immediate need for curry. I can’t decide if it was worth it or not, its a close call. But that curry was pretty damn good. The Vivian Girls were their usual embarrassing selves. Yeah, ok, their album was good, whatever. But the truth is they suck live. So, I really don’t have much to say. Other than that they are very very not funny. Talking about malls and Twilight to a bunch of teenage boys won’t win you any prizes, no matter how aLt-bAbE you think you are. Anyways. The Black Lips were good. The mosh pit was intense, as to be expected, but I have to say, I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be with the bands performance. They sounded fine, but they just didnt do anything very crazy and they didn’t talk allll that much. and they didn’t play Navajo or Veni Vidi Vici, two of my faves. Maybe they were trying to tone down their performance from last time at Heaven, where there was stripping involved, and Cole Alexander played the guitar with his dick. i think I would have preferred that show. But still. It was good. Glad I went. Pissed I missed the Soft Pack. Anyways here are 2 songs new/old/ Navajo from Good Bad not Evil and Short Fuse, from their new album, 200 Million Thousand.
Navajo

Short Fuse

Ryan also did a write up for this show on All Things Go! Maybe I go to too many shows with Ryan…nah.

Jah-mez, drunk in Canada

Hello Cruel World,

I write to you from the frosty city of Toronto. I’ve just spent twenty US dollars on beer at a bar here at the airport where I have a layover. In, like, an hour I’ll board a plane for a 12 hour flight to the eighty degrees of lovely Buenos Aires. Oh lawd. Give me strength to survive this flight. I didn’t know that planes could fly for a whole day without stopping. Apparently they can. Or, I guess we will find out soon enough. So I was enamored with the duty free shops here where they sell abundant selections of colognes that caught my fancy and tickled it like a little dirty dirt devil. So I go to test out the colognes. Picture Jah-mez, walking into the duty free shop, acting all cool and frequent-traveler unaware-like. He picks up a nice looking bottle of cologne shaped in the form of a man’s bodice. He then shoots the cologne directly into his face on accident, showering his eyes, nose, rosy cheeks, and supple lip region with acidic stud juice. Yumm. I can still taste it. 

There’s not much else I have to report to you, sitting here, awaiting the boarding of my 12 hour ride of death. I tried very unsuccessfully to attract the attention of two blatant homos who were sipping away at some florescent fag drinks in martini glasses with salt on the rim. The one had a robin’s egg blue polo with popped collar underneath a sweater. Hmmmm. The ironic and sadistic resurfacing of my crucible of a highschool’s prep-obsession reestablishing itself as a fag compass. I chuckled to myself a little in my Canadian beer induced state. I walked by them multiple times, scrunching my eyebrows in what in my sick little head looks like a seductive, brooding expression, but in actuality looks like I just pooped myself a little and don’t quite know what to do about it. What a futile existence I live. 

Anyways, BA in like, 13 hours, CAN’T WAIT! I’ll be sure to write when I arrive and let you know how hot and sexy it is there. And how many hairy moles Mama has. I know your clits are tingling with excitement. 

 

Fondling yours,

Jah-mez