This is a thread for Kate to do what she is best at

Does Kate want to actually do the Shangri-Las? Let me get my camera.

is it just me or has young master raggett been a bit...ribald, as of late. ;)

Well, why not? ;-)

Ah, thank you Anthony! Oh baby, you KNOW what I like. Dirty dronerock boys. See the boys in mascara, oh yeah, see the boys in their hairdye, oh yeah, mmmm-mmmm good. I feel so loved, and when I say I'm in love, you best believe I'm in LUV, L-U-V!!!

i applaud it ned. embrace your inner, rutting pan-the-goat-boy essence! ;)

Thank you, sir. And see, without going into detail, I am alone in the world now when it comes to romance :-( and so I wish to be more openly shameless ;-).

Shameless is always best in a stupid wig. Seriously Ned, you ok?

Commiserations, Ned :( E-mail lines are open if you need them, as ever.

Kate, last week I was out for a meal with Tabetha and we were outside a cafe in Angel when Dan C6 walked past, on his way home from glamourous new off-licence job.

Or was it Olly? No it was definitely Dan.

Totally incongruously, he sat down for a chat and ended up in a 20- minute discussion with Tab about fine art, of all things - I didn't realise he was art college as well as skinny dronerock grubster.

Anyway I thought you'd enjoy the oddness of Dan and Tabetha in deep conversation about Frank Auerbach or somesuch.

Definitely Dan, since Ollie has chosen to distinguish himself by butchering his hair, besides, when Ollie babbles it's cod- Buddhist "eastern" mysticism, not modern art.

Yes, there is something more to Dan than his dirty looks and his dronerock band, why else would I adore him? This has been debated ad infinitum on Ver Lolleez list as you know, the odd incongruity about how whenever A Boy (especially Dan, cause there's the added layer of attraction) attempts to discuss art in front of me, I have the curious mixture of feelings that either I am stupid or they are pretentious, often both.

Despite the fact that it's a subject I care passionately about, it's a conversation I feel helplessly excluded from, for various reasons mostly to do with my own insecurity and lack of self esteem. (Odd, because when, say, Suzy, talks about art, I am left with the impression that she is the cleverest woman in London, and I enjoy the conversation immensely, and feel like we've communicated aesthetic opinions and I've learned something, so I guess maybe it's more to do wtih the attitude *of* the person I'm talking with, and my attitude *towards* said person.)

So I feel helplessly excluded from such conversations with Dan, despite the fact I'd desperately like to engage in them. He is left with the impression (when I'm not walking into doors because my brain has been eaten by his cuteness) that I'm a cynical art-hating advertising burnout (whoops, shouldn't have made all those 'Painter Man" jokes) and I'm left with the impression that he's a shallow trendy Hoxtonite without two braincells left to rub together, because I'm too scared and self conscious to actually talk about an interest we've got in common.

Oh, this is so stupid, I can't believe I'm using Dan Clark to beat myself up. He's become the new Sanford.

Sanford was a boy in NYC I had a desperate crush on for YEARS, and whenever my real love life was in crisis or disrepair, I'd start picking through imaginary clues about what had happened or failed to happen with Sanford. Invariably, he would TURN UP magically at these junctures in my life, and we'd start the whole process all over again in another abortive psuedo-affair.

Sanford kept telling me that I wasn't really in love with him, that I was in love with my *idea* of him. I think he realised the same thing about his feelings towards me.

I wonder if Dan is my English artschool dirty dronerock Sanford replacement. I'm totally in love with the idea of him, because it's easier than facing the actual emotional struggle of my "real" love life. Oh, GAWD, the people my animus picks to dwell in. ("Dear Muse, I'm writing you this letter to suggest you take up residence in somebody better")

Flog, flog, flog, flog, flog...

Does having a knowledge of the things going on in your own head, and the reasons for them make you better or worse at dealing with them? Does a little knowledge of Jung and Archetypes make me better able to analyse, predict and correct my own behaviour, or does it merely send me into a navel-gazing fit of intense examination of lucid dreams which leaves me worse off than when I started? Maybe I should start a Jung: Classic or Dud thread or something... nah.

It makes it hard because it becomes so interesting to analyze what you're doing that you don't want to stop.

One's life is far more interesting when viewed as only a mere symbol for a far more rich and fascinating mythological struggle.

So, anyway, what's Ollie done to his hair?

(It's impossible to stop analysing. Thinking leads to hatred of thought and, at the same time, fear of losing capability to think = eternal buggery, really)

eternal buggery: classic or dud

Hmmm, depends how much lubrication you get alloted.

Eternal buggery=dud, unless you really like Louise Nurding that much, I guess.

Sorry, I'm bored and waiting for Young, Gifted & Broke to be on TV.

classic! what a wonderful phrase :)

I am glad that someone else is as fascinated by the state of the C6's hair as I, Emily, but now I think I know which Emily you are. ;-)

Well, I haven't seen the *latest* state of Ollie's hair (I'm sure that I shall this Sunday) which is reputed to be almost bald, but the last time I saw him... well, you know how he used to be this sweet little boy from Basingstoke? And then he went through a phase where he was in love with Dan and wanted to be Dan, so he grew his hair long and grew sideburns and stopped bathing and even started wearing all Dan's cast off clothes (right down to the plumber butt) until we were all afraid that they were going to merge into the single human being I originally thought they were...

Well, anyway. He's clearly stopped being in love with Dan because he's gone back to the way he used to look with short sticky uppy hair, which, I hate to say, actually suits him a lot better.

Oh, and as to the "eternal buggery" which is the endless self examinary thought process... (the only way to distract Kate from this is bring up dirty dronerock boys' hair... then again, bringing up dirty dronerock boys hair is the way to distract Kate from just about anything.)

When I was very young, about 6 or 7, because I remember it started happening around the first time I visited the States, I remember that I used to throw myself into utter tizzies with my first thoughtworm, which went something like this... someone would make an offhand remark like "you spilled grape soda all over the hotel carpet? What WERE you thinking?" and I would think "Hmmm, what am I thinking? I'm thinking about what I'm thinking about!!! AARRGGGHHH!!!"

And this was the first horrible instant of self awareness, and I could not escape it. For hours, I would just repeat this endless pattern of trying to figure out what I was thinking about, and realising that I was merely thinking about what was I thinking about, and it would go round and round and I would be unable to think about anything else except this horrible self awareness. This could last for hours at a time, and often kept me from being able to sleep at night until I learned that counting backwards from high numbers made it eventually go away.

It didn't fully go away until I did some sort of high school philosophy and realised that there was a name for, and even a whole school of thought based around this horrible eternal buggery of self awareness.

But one's own neuroses are boring, and of no consequence to anyone else, really. Can we go back to dirty dronerock boys and their hair disasters, please? Does anyone remember when Sonic Boom experimented with hair other than his traditional curtains? I found a really old issue of Magnet with him with horrible spikey hair. I was horrified. But it also explained by terrible need for a blue stripey Speed Racer style windbreaker, hrmmmm.

Ooh if you're THAT Emily, I told Olly and he said he didn't have your number anymore and could I get it, and I said yes but then forgot and since then they've parted company with The Joint so I never see them, he's back in Basingstoke. However, of you *are* that Emily, email me your number and I'll pass it on eventually. Or maybe just take advantage of knowing it myself...

Chris, you're being a dirty old man again. For shame!

(Pay no attention to him, Emily, he's actually a pussycat and perfectly safe.)

I had a great experience concerning self-awareness freakout like that. Can you imagine being my poor dad?

"Dad, how do you turn off the thoughts? I mean even if you shut your eyes you're still thinking things" "Just imagine everything is black" "But then I'm thinking about everything being black" "Yes it's hard"

For the rest of the trip from Scotland to Southampton I try not to think of anything and freak out about what that would mean if I didn't think anything but how come it won't stop what if I can't thinnk of anything else to think of and what if I'm always thinking like this and so aware aarrrgrhhhhHH!

I don't know what that's called though. Being a Young Mentalist, I would guess.

Goddamnit can't you see I'm mythbuilding here? How can I become darkly glamourous if you keep telling everybody how harmless I am?

Oops, sorry. Try that again:

Beware, Emily, BEWARE!!! Chris is a DARKLY GLAMOUROUS CHARACTER of much subtlety and intrigue and you would do well to, erm... do whatever it is when confronted with such a dark and glamourous chancer.

(Backpedals quickly before Chris can make her ride in the uncomfortable baby seat of the tourvan this Thursday...)

You're on Tim's knee.

I will NOT ride on Tim's knee as I am NOT a household appliance. Humph!

EH?