Thursday, October 23, 2008

London, I love you...Do you love me too?

Tonight, my friend Langan invited me to see The Kooks in concert at the Crystal Ballroom. It was an awesome concert and I'm glad I got to hang out with my friend before she leaves for New York. But all I could think about during the concert, was that this band could be my friend Sam Man's band. The lead singer, when blinded by the rock concert lighting, could be mistaken for Sam. Probably never in real life, but his lead singer attitude reminded me of him. In fact the whole band could have been his band. I could see Max, Jamie, Chris, and Alex on stage. Weird.

When I was living in London, my friends used to play a game with me. They would play a song and then I would have to guess if the band was British or American. I sucked at this game, because to me the vocalist sounded the same. I lost some cool points here. Oh well. But when listening to the Kooks I could tell they were English. In fact that's mainly the reason I went, besides hanging out with you Langan.

While watching the band, I was annoyed at how clean cut and American the audience all looked. And the smell of axe body spray made me want to vomit. I would never be caught dead at a venue in London in the outfit I wore to the concert. I was wearing sneakers (trainers) and the coolest thing about my outfit was my leather jacket, which I bought second hand at Camden Market. My friend was wearing sneakers made from hemp and recycled green and so Portland. So that was cool. But seriously going to this concert made me yearn for London. I keep having these flashbacks to parties in central London where my friend Sam Hall would DJ, or afternoons with tea, McVities and Neighbours (an Australian Soap) with Laurel, or beans on toast, and the horrible corner store I used to buy my food, or Topshop and Oxford Circus, or Camden or Portobello Market or trips to Greenwich or Brick Lane with Margot. It was like I was there. I kept hoping that when I walked out that front door I would be coming out of the Mean Fiddler or 333 Mother some place like that. But alas.

So...who wants to put me up on the couch so I can visit London?

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