*cough*wasting-time-at-work*cough*

You Are An INFP

The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world. Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships. It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close. But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

What's Your Personality Type?

An Open Letter To New York City

Dear New York

Long time no see. What's it been, six months? Good to see you again. Looking good. Just wanted to drop a quick note to say thanks.

Thanks for feeling like home as we came in to land. Thanks for the bassist from Snow Patrol asking me for a light at JFK and being surprisingly cute. Thank you for the fact that I had no idea that's who he was until Dan pointed it out. On that note, thank you for Dan and CC coming all the way out to deepest darkest Queens to pick me up at the airport and smother me in an extended group hug. Thanks for the crazy cab driver we had back from JFK who told us he'd written to the Queen of England and she'd invited him to meet her this summer.

Thank you to Fall Out Boy for postponing the Honda Civic Tour so Alex and Ryland were still in NY the whole time I was there. Thanks to Red Hook for being a weird neighbourhood but having a great little coffee joint in Baked and the most wonderful boutique, Erie Basin that I could have spent fortunes in. Not much thanks to the rain and shrill wind coming off the water that froze me to death while waiting for a car in the parking lot of Fairway, nor thanks to the car service that never turned up. Thank you to Alex for cooking dinner and Lauren for making cookies and to Brett for lending us her copy of The Departed so we could chill out on Thursday night. Thank you to the G subway line for being as unreliable as ever.

Thanks Dan for letting me co-opt his place and throwing a great party (that would have been a great bbq if it had been warm enough). Thanks Alex for cooking - again - and for taking at least 60 seconds to recognise one of his own band's songs when it came on itunes shuffle ("Hey, I know this, what is it?........ Ohhh shit it's Cobra Starship."). Thanks Lauren for the punching nun move. To everyone I asked to the party coming out to Carroll Gardens, I was so stoked to see you all and it made me very happy. To Christy Claire and Lauren for being true Gs.

Thanks to Ivy League for playing in the living room and it being a very funny show. For CC deciding to paper her roommate Jacques. For the Absinthe that was brought out at about 2am, just to make the party go with more of a bang. For the frog mask Dan has decorating his place.

I didn't really appreciate the hangover the next morning, although some might say that was self-induced. Thanks though to whoever brought Oreos to the party that I snacked on all morning until we were feeling human enough to stagger to Smith Street and get some brunch. Thanks to the laaaaaame magazine party in Williamsburg on Saturday night that we stayed at not more than five minutes that provided some laughs at its expense. Thanks to Jacques for telling the BEST jokes that cannot be repeated on here on the walk down to Metropolitan. For CC's lovely new apartment on Bleecker Street and Pepe the crazy cat who I haven't seen in a year. Not much thanks to the Bridge & Tunnel jerks who were yelling and shouting and being drunk and loud on Bleecker until at least 4:30am.

Thanks for Sunday being the wettest day since 1977 and for my not taking an umbrella out with me. A BIG thanks for my finding that wallet on the sidewalk outside our place in Carroll Gdns with $490 in it, and for the owner giving me $90 "for my troubles" when I gave it back to him. And for the CG American Apparel kids who I frequently wasted time with and distracted from their jobs (like that store is ever that busy...) and who all debated whether they'd've called the owner of the wallet or not. And for selling me a new hoodie because it was that cold in NY and having left warm temperatures in London I hadn't thought to pack for low temps.

Thanks to Au Revoir Simone for just being the cutest ever and being a lot of fun to hang with and interview. Thanks Dan for finally taking me to Trash & Vaudeville and to St Marks Comics (where I spent a small fortune). Thanks to CC for the champagne on Tuesday evening and for advising us to hit up Joe's Pizza round the corner from her place - although not thanks to the pizza crust that cut the top of my mouth. Big kudos to those Private Men for a great evening at Black & White (and for Rob Hitt for saying I could DJ it, even though I chickened out in the end). Thanks to The Academy Is for being there even though I had no idea that's who they were until CC, the consummate Chicago snob who was talking to William introduced him to me as "William, he's in some band called The Academy or something" and totally snubbing him for being "from the richest suburb in Chicago, man!" To Alex Sarti and Rob Hitt both independently telling me my hair looked great. To Shallon, for a big hug and seeing her again.

I appreciated sleeping most of Wednesday and then heading to an old favourite, the Sushi Lounge on St Marks and Ave. A, with Lauren and Michelle - and then Lauren suggesting dessert at Max Brenner where I had ohmigod Chocolate Pizza. And felt quite sick after. Thanks so much for the weather finally improving on Thursday and a wonderful walk around Williamsburg with Dan the man, taking photos, buying coffee, losing scarves, eavesdropping on hipsters and finding the most amazing little hoodie for my godson that I will take photos of and upload and soon as I've given him it.

Thank you to Diner for a lovely dinner - and amazing vodka gimlet that went down a treat after all that walking. Thanks to Union Pool for not changing much (it was good to go back there) and for the fact that its photobooth was actually working. And for Lauren, Alex and Ryland hauling ass to it to hang out. Friday I appreciated the continued good weather and stroll around Soho, Tribeca (quick visit to the Thurston Moore exhib - nothing amazing) and Lower East Side - with obligatory pitstop at Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Thanks for power naps. For the F being totally fucked up and either deciding to run on the G line, or just terminating at Bergen because of technical issues. Thanks to Sarah and Halina for Fajita Friday in Bushwick, and for the raucous round of applause CC and I received as we finally walked through the door.

Thank you so much for Saturday being beautifully warm and for CC's marvellous idea of a brunch picnic in Central Park on the rowboats. Thanks to Ryland for doing all the rowing while CC and I poured drinks and ate grapes, and Dan handed out french pastries.

Thanks to the sun and my stupidly fair skin combining to result in an interesting sunburn. To Sarah and Halina for meeting us at the pond. To Faran for visiting her friend at Columbus Circle when we were there too so I got a chance to say goodbye. To Lauren for taking a break and coming to the house to hang out while I rushed around doing last minute packing, then collapsing into the rocking chair. To Dan and CC for just hanging on the stoop, appreciating the afternoon sunshine, waiting with me till the car service turned up to take me back to the airport.

Thanks New York. It's been too long, and the visit was too short, and I miss you and everyone and everything I love in and about you already, but it was a pleasure.

See you soon. Send some of your peoples across the pond this year.

Love always,

Hxo

Pop - Punk Is Sooooo '05, part 2

Not enough sleep. A beautiful spring day. A wander and brunch down Portobello with Ryland. Get him back to the hotel for some press commitment. Go home, freshen up, wish I could nap. Head to Hammersmith Apollo to meet the boys after sound check - already looooongg lines at the Apollo to get in. Drag Ryland down the river to the Blue Anchor for drinks: Pimms for me, Fullers' London Pride (way to rep the local brewery) for him. The start of a beautiful sunset over the Thames.

We start to head back and run into Alex - Ryland goes back to the Apollo to tune up and riff with Joe Troh (note to self: I need a first name-last name rhyming combo) and Alex and I head back down the towpath. Realise Alex has to head back so back we go, meeting up with his friend Tomer as well. Alex goes back stage, Tomer and I go inside - find out the bars are cash only so plead with security to let one of us out to go to an ATM.

Miss Shiny Toy Guns, but Cobra play a really tight set and the crowd is so into it, it's awesome, and the girl they get up on stage actually knows the rap (1), unlike the night before. Head to the upstairs bar after their set where we'd arranged to meet Alex and see Gurj which makes me very happy - but feels strangely out of context, hanging with three of my NY peeps in Hammersmith. You know, the place where I was born and spent a large portion of my teenagerhood. Weird. Excuse myself to actually go watch FOB's set, by now immune to the amount of hoodie-clad teenagers.

They're pretty good. I have to admit, I'm still not blown away by the stage set (some light bars and the drum on a riser) but they're fun and man alive are the crowd loud and screaming any time Pete says anything. At all.

A small aside: I just feel (and I may be a bit biased here) that Cobra did more to get the crowd involved. Perhaps it's something to do with the fact that FOB know they have the audience eating out the palm of their hand, whereas CS have to work harder to get the audience on their side that they put on a better "show". And Gabe is always a great front man.

Back to scene: Gabe joins Patrick on stage for Grand Theft Autumn (see photo a couple above) and Pete climbs on to an amp and jumps off (see above photo) which the crowd lurrrrves. Irritated by the teens around me, I move towards the back of the theatre, where I am scared and horrified by balding fat middle aged men getting wayyyy too into Fall Out Boy. I escape to the upstairs bar again which has by now been shut off for the after party.

Tomer and I hang over the balcony transfixed by the scene at the merch stand (as above, and larger) where Cobra are doing a meet and greet. The kids mob them. Then we realise it's open bar where we are - alas, not hard liquor, but bring on the Strongbow... So it's later in the evening, a pint or two (or three...?) in and I'm talking to Ryland and this kid walks up in a green hoodie and starts chatting about where to go after (the Electric? Cuckoo?) and I suddenly realise it's Pete Wentz. Dude is teeeeeeny. Like you'd just want to make him PB&J sandwiches and hold his hand when he crosses the road. Adorable. I don't know what happened to after-after-party discussions but then somehow I'm buying whiskey shots for Alex and Ryland and I, and hanging with them and Nate (the Cobra drummer) and Ian (their tour driver and such an awesome guy), stealing sips of Nate's beer, listening to someone else come out the mens' room bragging about just getting a blow job (lovely).

Then we're back in Shepherd's Bush at the K West hotel where a bunch of teenagers are hanging outside (it's 2am! Why aren't they in bed?!) for some band or other - could be Cobra, could be My Chem who are also staying there. We head up to a kebab shop for food, someone tells me I should go to Manchester with them (it's tempting). It's freezing out. We get back to the hotel lobby and end up talking to some girls that are waiting there. Nate's not too into it and when one of the girls quizzes him as to why he's so quiet, I tell them he's Swedish. Let's just point out that I've had a few ciders and some whiskey. They ask him to teach them some Swedish. Ian jumps in and tells them he's deaf. I add that he's also a mute. We're trying not to crack up, Nate is shooting me odd looks, the girls are like, "Really? Well how does he play drums then?!" According to us, Nate the Swedish Deaf Mute plays drums by "feeling the vibrations". Something new for the Cobra Starship story...

Eventually I say my goodbyes, wait for the night bus on Bush Green for about 15 minutes, realise it's SO cold and is going to take me forever to get home at that time so go back to the hotel, crash on the boys' couch, get up at 6am, get two buses home, pass out in bed for what feels like only ten minutes, get up again and go to work.

Where I have to stay till 6pm. Where I've been pretending to do bits of filing but really hiding out in the filing rooms, wishing I could doze off, listening to music and trying to ignore my hangover...


(1) not my footage, slightly dodge quality

Pop - Punk Is Sooooo '05, part 1

I've been up since 5am as we're doing a car boot sale. Deciding that getting up that early has to be worth something, I have a 99 Flake for breakfast (highly nutritious). I get home about 1:45pm, fall into bed, don't quite even manage to doze off before my mobile rings. A familiar American accent at the other end:

"Auntie Hannah!"

Ahh, I'd forgotten that nickname. So Cobra Starship (two fifths of whom are good friends from my time in NY) have landed. On tour with Fall Out Boy (no link necessary; unless you've been living under a rock you must know who they are) and in the UK to play some shows with them. Which I may have mentioned before in previous posts...

I force myself straight out of bed and into the shower so I have no chance of falling asleep, and head over to Brixton Academy where they're finishing up sound check. I arrive about twenty past five. The line to get in starts at the main Academy doors and stretches down most of one side of the building, which surprises me that early (doors don't open till 7). I hang outside reading until sound check is over and Alex Suarez comes out and gives me a huge hug. We go to find a phonebox so he can call home, and I'm more shocked to see the line has actually started stretching round the second side of the Academy. Phone booth No.1 doesn't seem to work. We go for a walk, I point out the highlights of Brixton on a Sunday evening ("That's the tube station... off licence... Sainsburys....") We get back to the Academy and the line has now gone round all four sides of the block and has started on past the entrance. We consider going for a drink, find another phonebox first that actually works this time. While I'm waiting for him to finish his phone call, the line slowly snakes past us.... it's spiralling outwards from the Academy entrance round the block then round another block. I can't quite get my mind around this, it's INSANE. I've never seen anything like it. I've also never seen so many teenagers in hoodies and too much eyeliner...

We head back and go in to the Academy - Suarez wants his dinner. I go to the VIP bar, get a drink, halfheartedly watch Shiny Toy Guns. Head down into the fray to watch Cobra. Suddenly feel horrendously old as realise that I am totally surrounded by aforementioned teenagers that were in line. Hoodies, eyeliner (girls and boys) and braces (metal ones on teeth) abound. And they all seem to be making out with each other. GROSS.

Cobra play a good set - there seem to be a few technical issues, strings breaking and so on, and Gabe stumbles on stage fucking up his ankle at one point - but he's a good front man, and Ryland is great at the banter and they keep the show going and everyone around me seems to be getting into it, which makes me happy.

There's a Cobra Starship tradition of getting a kid up on stage during 'Bring It (Snakes On A Plane)' to do the rap that Travis from Gym Class Heroes usually does, so after much combing the crowd, he pulls some girl up on stage.... who turns out to not even remotely know the rap at all. Laaaaame.

I snake (haha) my way through the crowd back up to the vip bar where I run into the lovely Em. She introduces me to a couple of other people and we play 6 Degrees of Gurj, who we all have in common. Suarez comes out, I send him back to fetch Ryland who I haven't yet seen (and bring me back a vodka tonic from the bottle they have in their room...)

The evening starts to blur as the bar fills up... I talk to some guy who was interviewing Cobra pre-show and who is a little starstruck by Pete Wentz's mom. Later on he and his girlfriend start having little domestics in front of me and it gets a tad uncomfortable. I totally miss the FOB set - and the sound in the bar is terrible so I barely even notice they're playing. Much discussion occurs later about where to go... I end up jumping in the van with them (but it's so much more than a van!) and catching a ride back to West London. Half the band jump out in Knightsbridge to go to a restaurant that's open late where some friends are - my eyes are barely staying open so I pass on it and head home for some immediate and serious shut eye...