The Journals of Everett True

Saturday May 27

Our weekend is spoilt because I figure I can earn close on £350 once all the differing Monkeywrench interviews and live reviews have been printed. (ADDENDA, 10 days later - my optimism clearly needs to be kept in check. I've earned approximately £90 from that. Maybe.) After a day spent closer together than we've been for a while, C and I stroll downtown, past all the junkies and tired mums on London Rd and wannabe hipsters rubbing shoulders with grime on the North Lanes. We end up to the station where I buy Front (another lad's magazine indistinguishable from the first) and The Times. Chuck The Times away while on the train, keep Metro the section I'm trying out for, read the new Viz instead. Charing Cross Road is even scummier than I remember it. There are a load of new nightclubs open along it, so you now run the risk of being punched out by some Saturday Night Drinker alongside the usual theft. Fuck, there are way too many people alive today. Mark Arm and I wander outside the Borderline, Mark freaked out because he's holding a mug of beer in one hand. We settle on the place formerly known as Shuttleworth's for our interview; nothing new to report here, only memories. Good to see the Mudhoney frontmen on stage once more, all rocking and lean and lank. Tim Kerr is a revelation on guitar. Never seen anyone so implausibly happy to be in England. Earlier, he and his wife invites me to stay at their place in Texas. I could well take them up on that offer yet.

Train back, buy a MacDonald's for the free Beano toy - a Roger The Dodger hiding in a postbox - and suffer the usual lethargy on the journey down.

© Everett True 2000

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