Never Mind the Buzzcocks

So....

Camden Town Market has burnt to the ground.

Not all of it, but a sizable chunk I am told by the local news. How sad since I did want to go there tomorrow and get some cheap, trashy things that one could really only find in Camden. If you are unfamiliar with Camden, it is the place where punk was born. You can still see its roots and some hard core punks lolly gagging about, but for the most part it has since turned into a tourist trap with mainstream shops and a Sainsbury. Although the lock is beautiful, despite the bodies that end up floating in it.

A popular Pub that has seen the likes of Kelly Ozbourn, Amy Winehouse, Peter Daughtey, and every other scenester/hipster/indie trash bastard (of which I fit into somewhere) has burnt down as well. Oh dear! Where will they drink their beers and smoke their rolled up cigs? Where will they talk about obscure bands and various sexual partners they encounter all while looking stunning and unbearable bored? I had wanted to go back there-I was inhouse on Monday and actually liked the atmosphere- but I guess that won't be happening any time soon.

London is plagued by great fires.

I went back to Portobello road and got a SWEET painting. I was shopping and looking at prints and such and the man said "that one, 50 pounds." I politely said "piss off, i'm a student!". He then directed me to the "discount" paintings. Honest to god, it was someones Uni portfolio from the 70's and he was selling the spoils. Well, this was just too good so I indulged and got a portait of a cowboy-esque man for 3 pounds.

Walked around, went to Brick lane, got Indian food for a deal, drank, came home.

That was my day.
I drink far too much. Every night this week and my checking account is feeling the blows. I don't even want to look at it. I am too scared. Don't ask me to look at it!






I didn't get into Vail. Oh well. I know I am talented and everyone else can go to hell.