The Voice of London Episode XV

I really wish I had kept a closer eye on Pollstar. Last week I found out that the Arcade Fire will be playing five shows in London at the end of January, but when I went to check ticket prices I found out that all five shows had sold out. Needless to say, I was disappointed. On the other hand, it's not uncommon to find scalpers or other people trying to sell tickets outside of shows here. Maybe if I go to the venue on the night of one of the shows I'll get lucky and be able to get in. Fingers crossed and such. Ben Folds is also going to be here in January. He would be pretty cool to see but tickets are £25-30 so it's pretty expensive. We'll put him in the maybe pile.
In other news, it looks like I'm probably going to be moving out of my current place sometime next month. £260 a month is just getting to be too much to pay for rent so I'm going to try someplace else. At this point I'm not sure exactly when I'll be leaving this apartment, whether it'll be in the middle of January or at the end of the month. In any case, if you're thinking of mailing me anything, don't send it any later than the first week of the new year. Otherwise hold off till I can give you my new address.
I finally bothered to buy some DV tapes for my camcorder the other day and I was thinking of filming tours of the places I stay. I'll also film the fireworks show on New Year's Eve. Once I fill the tape with other stuff I'll mail it to someone over there so you can all share in my adventures. Well, not all of you. Basically just the people who live in Winnipeg. And who know the person I mail it to. And the person I mail it to will have to have a DV camera. And they'll have to be willing to play it for people. And-- ah, fuck it. You'll all just have to wait till I come back to see and video I shoot. Or until I can afford to buy a laptop, transfer the video to that, burn it to DVD, buy envelopes and stamps, and mail those to-- ah, fuck it. You'll just have to wait.
Today I took a walk down to St. Paul's Cathedral, then across the river for another visit to Tate Modern. From door to door it took the length of the Hold Steady's Boys and Girls in America. Give of take Southtown Girls. I brought my video camera and took some footage of the Turbine Hall. Nothing spectacular, just something to get me started. Anyway, there was a new piece that I found interesting. It consisted of a 7x7 grid of 49 interconnected perspex cases in which were poured coloured sand, creating the images of 49 national flags. Then (and by then I mean as part of its creation, not part of its exhibition) thousands of ants were released into the cases. They proceeded to burrow through the sand, gouging tunnels and spreading the colours throughout the "flags." It's partly meant to symbolize immigration patterns and comment on the concepts of borders and national identity, which is kind of a coincidence because last night I happened to be reading the Wikipedia article on Canadian national identity, which led to me reading the Wikipedia article on beer, which led to me wanting to drink beer, but it was after midnight so the pubs were closed and besides, I'm saving my cash to drink on New Year's Eve.
Speaking of drinking, a couple weeks ago I was bored one night so I decided to get drunk. Piotr, on e of the guys I live with, went out to buy us some cider. When he got back he told me they didn't have it in cans so instead he bought us each a 2 litre bottle. Two pounds a piece. The stuff was called White Ace and it was 7% alcohol. No, wait, seven and a half. It was kind of like the Stone Cold of ciders, but stronger. It wasn't even really apple cider. It was like apple and pear cider. I ended up drinking just over half the bottle. Fortunately I manage to stay sober enough to wake up when I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and while I was sitting on the toilet I started throwing up in the sink. When I was done I felt less nauseous but the rice I'd had for dinner was preventing my vomit from rinsing down the narrow sink drain very well. I couldn't just leave it there so I had to scoop up handfuls of half digested rice and toss it in the toilet. Normally this would probably have made me throw up more but at the time I was too drunk to care. I threw up a little the next morning and the rest of the day I was hungover worse than I've been in a while. But the point of the story is really to picture those grains of rice, some chewed and some whole, soaked in digestive juices, and imagine the feeling as you grab a nice, big, squishy handful. Happy holidays everyone!

Exegetically yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode XIV

So it's been a while since I wrote a new Voice of London. Why? Does it matter? No? Good. Anyways, winter's upon the northern hemisphere officially now. The solstice was yesterday or today or some day this week at any rate. That means the days are going to be getting longer. I'm all for that. Temperatures dropped here in London, seemingly to coincide appropriately with the change of season. Now there's a dense fog covering the city that's supposed to last till Boxing Day. British Airlines says it's going to cost them £25 million. There are huge delays and cancellations at the airports. Heathrow's probably a hotbed of Christmas cheer right about now. And speaking of that most unescapable of religious holidays which continues to be celebrated despite the vast secularist conspiracy bent on destroying it, the day itself is just around the corner. And by corner I mean weekend. On that day, of course, we celebrate the grafting of the birth of a messianic sun-god figure onto pagan solstice rituals by exchanging gifts and sentiment laced cards while gathering together with our families in the hope that we may be able to endure their company long enough that we don't resort to imbibing egg nog to the point of intoxication whereupon we tell off some member for past grievances, creating new rifts between siblings, parents, second cousins, or what have you. Ah, Christmas...
Anyhoo, if there's anyone back in the colonies who knows of some trinket, foodstuff, or other product to be found in the United Kingdom that they would like, now would be a good time to let me know so I can try to find it for cheap at some kind of post season sale. On the other side of the equation, for people who want to get me a gift (specifically those who want to get me a gift but don't know what material objects I would enjoy or don't want to go to the trouble of shipping and have thus decided that a donation made in my name would be the best solution), I support organizations fostering the collection and dissemination of information. As such, if donation's your thing send it to Erowid.org or Wikipedia. Of course, there's always the Antony Matthew Hawkins Brokeness Prevention Fund. Send cash, cheque, or money order payable to Tony Hawkins to the Antony Matthew Hawkins Brokeness Prevention Fund, care of Jim or Petchie Hawkins, Box 133, Killarney, MB, R0K 1G0 and they will ensure it is deposited in a bank account set up specifically to combat Antony Matthew Hawkins brokeness. Don't delay, act now. Money. It's in your wallet to give me.
I went to the Natural History Museum today. It was pretty cool. It's a beautiful building. I didn't get any pictures of it but I will when I go back to go to the Science Museum. Inside they have dinosaurs. I took some pictures. One was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It went "RAAARR." I took a picture of the triceratops too. It didn't say anything cause it was just bones. The bones didn't move but I still liked it anyway. Then there was a room with a whale. It was huger even than the dinosaurs. There was elephants too. And they had old kinds of elephants too but it was just their head bones. Some of the old kinds of elephants were bigger than real elephants and they had big tusks and they had a pole to show how tall all the kinds of elephants are and it was really tall. And you know what else? There was a thing with these ants and the ants ate fungus that they grow on leafs and some of the ants were walking on the water. I bet Jesus would have to try pretty hard if he wanted to impress those ants.
Speaking of children, or rather speaking like children, and in fact this doesn't really have anything to do with children, I went to see Pan's Labyrinth last week. I guess it sort of has to do with children in that the movie is about a girl who is a child and it's sort of a fairy tale, but it's not a fairy tale for children. It's actually brutally violent. The AV Club has listed it, along with Children of Men, The Departed, and The Prestige (half of the other movies I've seen in the cinema here), as one of the best movies of the year. Even though I was expecting more focus on the fantasy aspects of the story and would like to have seen more than what was present, I would have to agree. Guillermo del Toro certainly has an eye for design, realized most demonstrably in this film in the character of the Pale Man. The scene with this character is one of the most thrilling in the movie and is certainly one of the reasons I would have enjoyed more examples of the fantasy world that is presented. Still, the real world in which the (human) characters are grounded is not a boring one and makes for an unexpected and affecting conclusion. When it comes out over there, go see it. Just don't bring any young kids.
Also, check out the new Hold Steady album Boys and Girls in America, which topped the AV Club's best music of 2006 list, because it is groin grabbingly awesome.
Finally, a brief reminder aimed particularly at anyone who has a hard time reading the lengthier episodes from their email inbox: the Voice of London is also available at http://voiceoflondon.blogspot.com in a narrower column format that some may find easier to read. For those that have a hard time reading these due solely to the length and not because of the formatting, I can't do nothin' for ya man. Oh right, and happy holidays.

Ecumenically yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode XIII

So I'm lying awake in bed and it's all four in the morning and shit and I'm thinking, shit. I can't sleep but what the hell else am I going to do? It's not like I can go sit in the living room and watch TV. Or go and sit anywhere, really. There's a couch in this room but sitting on it isn't going to do me any good. I share this room with two other people and they're both sleeping so I can't turn on the light. In bed there's just enough light coming in the window for me to write this, but it's not enough to read a book. I could go to the bathroom or maybe the kitchen to read but neither of those options is very appealing. I could close my eyes and keep trying to sleep but if I fall asleep now I probably won't wake up till at least noon. So should I stay awake? I'd pretty much have to cancel any plans I had for tomorrow evening. Fortunately I don't have any. But that still leaves me with the problem of what I'm going to do till morning. I don't really want to spend the next few hours straining to follow my pen as it scratches across this dimly illuminated page. What would I rather be doing? Entering my fourth hour of sleep is pretty high up the list.
I can never get enough to drink here. I don't have enough fridge space to store the amount of orange juice I want to consume. If I'm lucky I can have three or four one litre cartons in there at a time, but that wouldn't last me a week. Why don't they sell frozen juice concentrate here? Or cans of black beans? I made bean dip with two cans of brown but it's just not the same. At least I found reasonably priced taco chips. You have to buy them in 100 gram bags but they're only 19p each. Of course that's small consolation when the bean dip is subpar and I don't have a food processor to make guacamole. Or hummus. They've got good cheeses over here. I can't fault them that. But then I wasn't complaining about the cheese selection before I left either. Still haven't found a veggie burger better than Cousin's (or even just as good), and I've had lots. From at least half a dozen different places.
So there's this guy, right? And he falls asleep for twenty years (it's actually 22 years but whatever). He wakes up and finds that his wife has moved on and he's pretty bummed but he figures it's to be expected. He learns his parents have died and that bums him out too but they died peacefully after a long life so he takes some consolation in that. His dog had by now passed on as well but he was still just a puppy when the guy fell asleep so the attachment hadn't grown too strong yet. Once he's brought up to speed in his personal life he goes out to see the new world and finds that it costs twice as much to mail a letter, five times as much for a cup of coffee, there have been four new presidents, a new pope, computers are a hundred times faster, there are wars going on in countries he's never heard of, and they stopped making his favourite candy bar. So he thinks to himself, well, at least my clothes are still in fashion. Later he got hit by a bus. I'm not sure if that story is original or not. I probably got it from that movie. You know, the one with Robin Williams. Hook. Or maybe it was Police Academy.
What did you do today? Who do do today? Wahutu do day? Wahoo tutu day? Do who today? To udu to tutu today. Do to today. Who to do to who today? Ooo. Today.
You're not falling for it. I'm armed with barbed wire harder than two tarps in a fire. Bar me art market. Card giver liver. Quiver with the shiver. Spark a target far off in a tar pit. Don't say you didn't like it. Lark it. Hark hack cough it. Stop it. What the hell was the point of all that? If you're asking me and I'm asking me then everybody's asking me. Why should anybody be asking me? I know! I know! Quiet down you rat armed little shit. Take a breath and ask me again. Wait, what? Where'd you go? I'm not asking you again. Flounder on a beach and fuck sheep I'm going to Oahu seven days till I reach the coast Oh my how time flies who are you sailing with I am visiting my grandmother THERE IS NO WOLF I will ride you like a hood  Could you?  Tell me what you wouldn't do if you had to  you you you you take off me stab stab stab  I am an investment in my future  Future lady why aren't you singing?  sing SING sing SING sing stab I am investments  I am in vestments THERE IS NO HOLIDAY stab  It's showing now. I can see it. It's showing now. I don't want to believe that corner. It's fishy. Too much from the outside. You can't see it. It's showing now.

Cryptonymically yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode XII

Apologies to those who find my interest in comic books painfully uninteresting and unbelievably geeky because this episode will focus primarily on that subject. And of course by apologies I mean shut your damn trap I'll write about whatever the hell I want. So anyways, I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Among the more recent books that have held my attention are Joe Sacco's Palestine and Persepolis 1 & 2 by Marjane Satrapi. Both are works of non-fiction. The first is an account of Joe Sacco's two months spent in the West Bank and Gaza Strip towards the end of the first intifada. While it certainly works as a condemnation of the treatment of the Palestinians at the hands of the Israelis, it doesn't heroicize their resistance either. Despite it being almost fifteen years old at this point it (unfortunately) still has a lot of relevance and I would recommend it to anyone wanting a very human account of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Continuing the theme of wars in the Middle East (out of opportunity more than a specific desire on my part) I took out Persepolis and Persepolis 2 after returning Palestine to the library. The two books comprise the memoirs of the Iranian born Satrapi. The first details her early childhood in Tehran until the age of fourteen when her parents sent her to be schooled in Austria to escape the war that erupted with Iraq. The second book deals with her life in Austria and her return to Iran. There story is illustrated in a simple style that belies its complex content. As a portrait of life under a repressive religious regime it is quite illuminating. I'm not sure I'll ever comprehend the kind of socially and psychologically destructive strictures that are enforced in the name of religion. I say this in reference to both Islam and Christianity. Of course, this can apply to any religion but I mention those two specifically because they are the two most widespread religions and in many instances the most repressive.
Prior to these books I took the time to read Jimmy Corrigan, the Smartest Kid on Earth. Don't let the name fool you. It is actually one of the most depressing books I have ever read. It's about the titular Jimmy Corrigan, a socially awkward man, approaching middle age and put upon by a domineering mother, who lives in Chicago and takes a trip to Michigan one Thanksgiving to meet his estranged father. The book cuts between this story and the story of Jimmy's paternal grandfather and his childhood, being raised by his single parent father. Despite an ending that is open to interpretation as to the fate of the main character's happiness, I think the most telling (and depressing) part of the book comes shortly before the end. Upon learning that his mother would be remarrying, Jimmy Corrigan, an extremely alienated and discontent individual, says "I couldn't be happier." In that line there is such excruciating irony and a horrible, bleak truth that it dims any hope for a happy resolution. At the same time the book is a magnificent example of the potential of the comics medium. Its complex structure and dense, recurring symbolism have led to comparisons to Joyce's Ulysses. As such I feel I shouldn't recommend the book because, why bother? Who would read Ulysses on someone's recommendation? Especially if, immediately before recommending it, they were told reading it would make them feel bad. Maybe people who have a lot of free time and generally spend it listening to Joy Division and Black Heart Procession. I should clarify that, while depressing, it is not a book that would appeal to emo kids. There are no overwrought emotions and characters don't wallow in darkness. Emotions are repressed and characters meekly trudge through the soul-crushing bleakness of their existence. Merry Christmas!

Irascibly yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode XI

When I got to the convention centre at 4:30 there were already people lined up for the show. My plan had been to pick up my tickets then wander around for an hour or two before coming back to get in line. Then I figured if I waited that long I'd probably end up stuck at the back. If I had an assigned seat I wouldn't have to worry about it, but my ticket is for the standing section, so the longer I wait the better my position will be. For Tool I'm willing to hang out for two hours till the doors open. Even their sound check sounds cooler than any other band. When they test the bass it rattles the building. Fuck this is going to be awesome.
I hope I can find a restaurant that's open after the show. I'm probably going to be hungry. So Glasgow seems like a cool place so far. I may even hop over to Edinburgh, time and money permitting. I've given myself £30 a day as a kind of budget, which should be more than enough. If it's not I may have to scale back my activities on the last day. I only have twelve pages (single sided, six double) left in this notebook so I've taken to printing three lines of text on each ruled line. It's probably going to be a pain to read when I go to type this out. *Actually, it's not so much a pain to read as to find my place again after I look away from the page* But I still wish I had started doing this earlier so I'd be able o fit more in. I'm going to have to get a new notebook eventually. I guess I could do it sooner rather than later and write for comfort now. Or I should write everything as small as I am now and all my notebooks would last years and years. Then again this notebook has lasted a couple years and I used it to take my university notes the last time I went. I wrote those in a 2:1 line ratio. And yet most of the pages have been filled since I came to the UK and started writing Voice of London in cursive before typing it out. I'm still sitting in the queue and I can hear them playing Stinkfist inside the auditorium. Warm-up I guess. A nice gift to the waiting fans. Of course, if that song ends up as part of their set it'll be a little bit disappointing now. It'll still be awesome just, you know, diminished novelty and all that.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the concert that was Tool. Fortunately they opened with Stinkfist so any sense of diminished novelty came early and was quickly forgotten. I would have been fine with them only playing songs from their last three albums and ignoring Undertow completely, but I'm glad the one song they did play from that album was Swamp Song as it's one of my favourites. The problem with seeing bands with such an extensive collection of great songs as Tool has is that it's impossible for them to play all of them. The focus of their set was, understandably, Lateralus and 10,000 Days and they did play the best songs from each album, including the title tracks. In fact, those two songs were probably the best parts of the night. The Wings for Marie suite (of which 10,000 Days is part two) came first and when they reached the crescendo a huge, previously unseen Alex Grey backdrop was illuminated and a series of green lasers, directed at mirrors placed on the stage floor, erupted and sent their beams cascading through the hall. Wings for Marie itself is a beautifully affecting eulogy to Maynard's mother Judith Marie Keenan who passed away last year after living with paralysis for 27 years following a stroke. After this they went into Lateralus, possibly my favourite Tool song and one of their more transcendentally themed songs lyrically. They ended the night with Aenema, a song inspired by Bill Hicks, who tended to find greater success in the UK than the US. One guy I was talking to after the show said he had been a fan of Bill Hicks before getting into Tool. It was the opposite for me. There are a few more things I want to say about the show but I don't want to bother working them into any kind of cohesive flow so I'm just going to throw them in non-sequiturially. I don't think I've ever been crushed to tightly in a crowd before. By the end of the night I was soaked with sweat. It might now all have been mine. The opening band was Mastodon. I'd heard good things about them before, and they were good, but as I've said it's hard to judge a metal band when the first time you hear them is live. The sheer volume can often drown out the melody and precision that makes the music appealing. I guess the last thing I have to mention is that at the show I witnessed with my own eyes a mythical creature: an attractive female Tool fan. And not just attractive girlfriends of male Tool fans. They were legitimate, band shirt wearing, sing alonging, hot girls. One of them looked kind of like Rosamund Pike (she was in Doom and The Libertine and Die Another Day). I should have moved here instead of London.
I'm not sure I'm just being funny when I say that either. I'm quite liking Glasgow. After last night the hills aren't being too kind on my knees, but neither is walking in general. In the city centre there are a lot of good opportunities for shopping, including a comics shop that I spent some time browsing in. Pardon me, in which I spent some time browsing. I wasn't aware there was an Absolute Edition of Watchmen. Now that I do, I want it. They also had Absolute Editions of The Dark Knight Returns, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Kingdom Come, and The Sandman Volume One, all of which further fueled my samsaric attachment. There was another shop I stopped in that was selling gadgety, toyish, ephemera type stuff, including a life size metal sculpture of Giger's Alien. It was only £5000. For those who didn't feel like spending the cost of a small car on oversized conversation pieces, they had two and three foot sculptures for a few hundred pounds, with the option of Predators in addition to Aliens. If sculpture just isn't your thing you could get something more practical, like a kitchen knife set with a storage block in the shape of a person. They called it a "Voodoo Knife Set." Um... Hmm. I guess that's all I have to say right now. I didn't really do much today beyond exploring the city centre. As I mentioned, my knees have been a little fucked up. Another night's sleep should have them back in shape so I can check out the art galleries tomorrow.
Boy do I have a story to tell now. When I was writing the last section I was in a pub called the Arlington Bar where I had stopped to grab a bite to eat and have a couple drinks. As it turned out, being a Sunday, they were holding a pub quiz. Trivia buff that I am, I decided to stick around for it. Plus, there was a cash prize offered and no entry fee so I had nothing to lose. There were a number of people taking part, spread across five teams (including myself, competing alone). The largest team, comprised of about half a dozen people, was sitting at a table across from me. We exchanged a few genial words throughout the game and in fact, they held the lead for the first several rounds. After a geography round that turned out particularly well for me, I managed to gain a one point lead. This was short lived however, as the other team was able to reclaim a five point lead in the next round. It all came down to the last question, worth up to ten points. The question involved guessing a person based on one to five clues. Guessing correctly on the first clue would be worth ten points, eight points for guessing on the second, six on the third, and so forth, but only one guess was allowed. The team in the lead took a gamble and submitted their answer (rather foolishly, actually) on the first clue. I held out for the second clue (she was offered the role of a prostitute named Iris in a 70s cult film) and submitted an answer of Jodie Foster. I was awarded eight points, victory, and the cash prize of £100. I was all smiles for the rest of the night. I offered to buy the other team, who in all likelihood would have won if they had played a bit more strategically, a round of drinks. They said they would only accept if I joined them, which I did gladly. We all sat and chatted until closing. I spoke mostly with John and Caroline, a young married couple who were very friendly. John gave me their telephone numbers and email addresses and recommended I get in touch with them sometime: they'd be coming down to London at Christmas to visit Caroline's sister. I told them (honestly) that I would. Zaps was right. Scotland is better than London. The people are really friendly, Glasgow is a beautiful city, and the cost of living is much cheaper. I'm seriously thinking about moving up here instead. I guess I'll just have to see how things pan out.
Oh yeah, and one of the guys, named Malcolm, had lived in Canada for a time and was a fan of Trailer Park Boys so we talked about that for a while. Anyway, it's my last day in Glasgow now. I'm having lunch in a place called Bier Halle. They have a bunch of different beers from around the world. The only Canadian beer on their menu, though, is Moosehead. I considered getting one but it turns out they don't have any at the moment anyway. Instead I got a Fürstenberg from Germany. It's quite nice. Last night I went to see Casino Royale. A lot of people seem to be saying it's the best Bond movie in years. I guess technically that's true. It's better than the last couple of Bond movies in a lot of ways. I do like the direction they're taking of a grittier, down and dirty kind of style, but I felt there was something missing in this entry. I realize that this movie is kind of a reset for the franchise in a similar way to how Batman Begins reset that series, and I'm sure this complaint will be addressed and corrected in the next film, but I was disappointed by the lack of gadgets and (relatedly) the absence of Q. Yes, 007 drove a nice car and used the newest cell phones and such, but those are just examples of technology, not gadgets. They're things that would be available to anybody with enough money. Bond gadgets should be newer than new or specifically spy-related devices. You know, stuff like jet packs and laser watches, not just the latest model Song Ericsson. I guess the goal now is not for a spy to use cool things to complete a mission, but for a spy to use cool things to showcase new products. Really, though, some of the product placements are getting to the point of being just club-you-over-the-head blatant. As for Daniel Craig as Bond, I didn't really find anything wrong with his performance. He did feel a bit less Bond-y than previous incarnations, but I think that was owing to the story's chronological earliness and, again, to the lack of gadgets. In my final analysis I'd say it shows promise for entries to come but has unfortunately left that promise to be fulfilled by those future entries.
Now I'm waiting for the showtime to go to The Prestige (here in Glasgow I can afford to go to two movies in a weekend [especially after the other day's winnings]). I love that they have a bar right in the cinema. I came too early to go right in, but I can sit back and enjoy a pint while I read my new Y: the Last Man book to kill time. It's great. If only they would import this idea to Canada. The only downside is that after a couple pints you're likely to need a piss in the middle of the movie. I'll be sure to go before I get settled into my seat.
Ok, I was able to see the ending from quite a ways off. This didn't really disrupt my enjoyment of the movie, but the end was put together in such a way that the filmmakers obviously figured I wouldn't so I feel like my intelligence was being insulted a little bit. Maybe Christopher Nolan was giving too much consideration to people's complaints about Memento. It seems a shame for him to have to pander like that, but oh well. I can overlook it given the rest of the movie's strengths. However, there is one detail that bothered me. If the water tank had a slot that opened for the person in the trick to put their hand through and open the trick lock, why couldn't they open the slot and put their mouth up to it to breathe? Am I just missing something? Seems like drowning would be a high price to pay not to reveal the magician's secret. I know Harfield's seen the movie. If anyone else has and can explain this to me I'd be grateful. Well, here ends another one.

Endemically yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode X

Apologies to everyone who received the link to that video that didn't work. When we did it there was only the option to send it to two addresses so I figured I'd send it to myself then forward it to everyone else. It all ended up being redundant because it didn't work for me either (I sent it before trying to watch it). Don't worry, though, you're really not missing anything. The video is just Danny and I standing there wondering what we should do on this video we're sending.
I have some updates and corrections to make in this Voice. The first one is rather important. It seems I was unintentionally misinformed (and thus misinformed all of you) as to my postal code. It turns out that the correct postal code is not WC1X 9HL, it is WC1X 9JX. Hopefully no one has mailed me anything using the former. If you have, it shouldn't matter too much as long as you have the street address and the WC1X part correct. The last three characters of the postal code basically specifies the building, while the first four gives the general region (in this case the King's Cross area of Camden). The second update is regarding the movie Red Road. I recently learned that the premise behind its creation is called the Advance Party project. There's a Wikipedia entry on it for anyone wanting to see the rules governing the three films' creation or learn any more about it.
In other news, I'm headed to Glasgow this weekend (coincidentally the setting of Red Road for those that didn't remember). I'll be there for four days. Initially I was only planning on being there for a day or two; long enough to go to the Tool concert, wander the city a bit, then go home. When I was booking my flight, however, it turned out to be cheaper to arrive on Saturday and return on Tuesday evening, so I decided to do that. If anyone knows of any attractions they can recommend I would welcome the suggestion.
I recently received an email from Jerome with pictures of grocery store prices in Baker Lake, Nunavut. While it's not quite as bad, I am growing increasingly disgusted with the price of living here in London. I miss being about to buy a kilogram bag of taco chips and a jug of salsa for the cost of a 200 gram bag and a small jar of salsa here. I miss being able to rent an apartment as big as the one I have now, but without the half dozen other people living there, for the same amount of money. I miss going to the movies for eight bucks instead of eight pounds. I also miss being able to go to a bar without coming home reeking of cigarette smoke. Of course, that's scheduled to change next summer, but it irritates me now. Nevertheless, I'm determined to ride out the winter here: snow is something I don't miss. And with Christmas gifts and charity I might even be able to do it without having to get a job. I could get used to rice and beans every day.
That's more or less all I have to say this week. This is probably the shortest Voice of London I've written so far, but I'm just saving up for something really ambitious. After making my list of 100 favourite albums I thought about doing a list of my favourite songs. I'm about half way through compiling the initial list that I will edit down to a manageable number, say 300 or so. Maybe it's not so much ambitious as ridiculous and stupid, but I started and I can't bring myself not to finish it. I sure as hell won't be commenting on every song on the list though. And I probably won't be able to organize it into any kind of meaningful order. It'll probably be more like my 25 favourite songs and ten times as many runners up in no particular order. Anyways, look forward to that. I'll tell you all about Scotland next week. Until then.

Parenthetically yours,
Matthew Hawkins

The Voice of London Episode IX

The beginnings of our trip were fraught with difficulty, or at least inconvenience. We were dropped at the train station and went inside to see that the train from Norwich to London Liverpool Street was canceled. This worried us. We were soon to learn that the technical problems causing the cancellation were occurring only between Stowmarket and Ipswich and there were buses provided to fill the gap. As a result we were merely delayed arriving in London. Luckily our flight was not until the next afternoon. And now I'm high for the first time in approximately two months which, truth be told, is actually the longest I've ever gone without smoking marijuana since I started five years ago. I think the previous record was two or three weeks. While that may seem like I could potentially have a problem with cannabis, I think the situation demonstrates the non-addictive quality of THC. In the time since I moved out of my apartment in Winnipeg I have felt no craving or need for pot at any time. Twice in that time (now and once more than six weeks ago) I have been presented with it as an option and have indulged in its effects. After I leave the Netherlands I will have no easy (or at least not illegal) access and consequently the consequences will outweigh the uses of its usage. In addition I find that frequency diminishes novelty. After five years I'm into some novelty. Which could be part of the reason I suggested we spend the night at the airport. We arrived shortly after midnight and wandered around for a bit. Then we started playing a game of gin to a thousand points. We interrupted that to get some bench sleep while we could. When we woke up a couple hours later we wandered around the now open shops then returned to our game of gin. We were about two thirds of the way through when it was time to check through security. We boarded the plane and were in Holland within an hour.
The second difficulty came with taking the train from the airport to Amsterdam Centraal station. After thirty or forty minutes we suspected being on the wrong train. A couple of corrections got us on the right track and from the station it was an easy task to take the tram to our destination and check in at the hostel. Difficulty three occurred at the restaurant we went to that night. After over an hour our food still hadn't come so we left and got falafels instead. Fourth difficulty was a result of an apparent confusion of terms. When we went into a coffeeshop and ordered a joint we expected to get ground marijuana bud rolled in a cigarette paper, nothing more, nothing less. Instead we got marijuana and tobacco rolled in a cigarette paper. In my experience this is a spliff, not a joint. After choking our way through half of it and not being able to tell what was THC buzz and what was nicotine headrush we purchased a couple grams of "Shiva" and rolled a real joint on our own. There was a problem with it raining on our way to the Anne Frank House but other than that things have gone considerably smoother after the first day. Danny and I finished the game of gin we started in the airport with Danny winning 1034 to 707. I listened to the KLF's Chill Out last night. Very, very ambient. I also listened to Future Women by The M's. I downloaded it months ago but hadn't given it any attention till now because I got distracted by some other albums I downloaded at the same time. It's really good though. It combines the Beatles inspired pop of Elephant 6 bands like Apples in Stereo or of Montreal with some of the more epic qualities of the Arcade Fire. Those are the aspects I can recall anyway. I was falling asleep at the time so my memory isn't perfectly clear.
I'm back in London now. Danny should be on the train back to Norwich by now. In a few hours I'll be going to see the Flaming Lips. I just have to figure out which venue the show is at and, subsequently, how to get there. Not having regular, easy access to a computer and internet service is going to be troublesome. Until I get a library membership and can reserve the use of a computer, internet cafes may be the most reliable way for me to get on the web. Fortunately they're not as expensive here as in Amsterdam. Still, I kind of wish I had bought a cheap laptop to bring with me on this overseas jaunt because the pocket PC that I did bring has some unfortunate limitations. Oh well, it's adaptability that's the key to survival, not complaining.
I'm currently seated in Block 6, Seat J-9 of the Carling Hammersmith Apollo and there is about 40 minutes until the opening band (called Gruif [pronounced griff]) starts. On the stage, behind the carnival coloured sound equipment, there is a full colour LED screen displaying the feed from a camera that is currently directed at a table full of miscellaneous instruments: whirligigs, kazoos, whistles, a Casio keyboard, what appears to be an 8-track. The Hold Steady has come on over the speakers, a song from the new album Boys and Girls in America. As it reached the bridge Wayne Coyne stepped out on to the stage to test a streamer shooter. It worked successfully, to the delight of the audience members already crowded up to the front. There are three mirror balls hung in the venue. I'm not certain if they are permanent features or part of the stage show, but I would bet on the latter. The Hammersmith Apollo itself is much like the Burton Cummings Theatre, though much bigger and (I hope) better suited acoustically for live musical performances. I should know for sure after the opening act has played.
I didn't know Wesley Willis had a song about the Flaming Lips. Apparently they really whip the llama's butt and Chicago, London, and San Fransisco should rock on. Oh, and for everyone who can no longer stand the suspense left by the last paragraph, yes. Next paragraph: a review of the Lips' performance.
What can I possibly say about that? The show was flat out incredible. It started with Wayne Coyne coming onto the stage in a giant hamster ball and rolling out onto the audience. Then he was helped out of it by stagehands dressed as superheroes so he could take centerstage and sing Race for the Prize amidst showers of confetti and dozens of huge balloons. Lights flashed, guitars buzzed, smoke billowed, and streamers soared, all creating a magnificent, joyful chaos. It was elaborate not for the sake of decadence or posturing, but for the giddy, childlike delight in enthusiastically overwhelming the senses. They came back for a double encore that, in my opinion, was actually unnecessary after they ended to perfectly on Do You Realize?? Second only to the Arcade Fire for the best concert I have ever seen. No, that's not true. It was the best concert I've ever seen, I just enjoyed the Arcade Fire more because I had smoked a joint beforehand and I had a better seat.

Incorrigibly yours,
Matthew Hawkins