After slaving all day over a hot computer at work, I take the bus down to Shoreditch to slave all evening over a hot computer, albeit in a music studio. Turns out the sound engineer is someone I know from an internet messageboard, a Canadian living in London. For a moment, we both feel like celebrities, then we laugh at how small the world has become.
Miss AMP's sister, Lisa, has just joined the band, and it's her first rehearsal with Shimura Curves. There are four of us girls in a tiny sweaty room that smells of beer and boysweat, trying to sing complex shape-note harmonies on a PA that sounds like a cheap stereo. All around us, we can hear other bands, down under the railway arches, the sound bouncing around in the enclosed space. We're kinda quiet, because we're just laptop, guitar, keyboards and four voices. I used to be in a "real" band but I got sick of lugging around a drumkit and amps. Besides, with a laptop I can manipulate the soundwaves themselves, and create sounds I only ever dreamed of.
We're working on a new song - (Just Keep My Name) Out Of Your Blog. Supremely ironic, given AMP's and my interweb history, and we fall about laughing over it.
I keep a diary, I keep it on a shelf
The thing about a private life is you keep it to yourself
You got something to say, then write a bloody book
Don't write it like it's private, then invite the world to take a look
Just keep my name, out of your blog
I'm not your character, don't wanna be your dog
You can write your world the way you want it if you wish
But take it to your LiveJournal if you wanna just bitch
Are you gonna grade me, gonna give me five stars?
Or points out of ten like albums or cars?
I don't kiss and type because I got class
So you can take your comment box and stick it up your - woo!
I know what you're up to, I know that you kissed her
I seen the pictures on your sister's Flickr
Get out of my face, get off MySpace
Coz I gone and dumped you from my top 8
Get out of the studio, and Shoreditch High Street is being torn up again (bloody gentification) and they've moved the bus stop, so two 149s go charging past me without stopping. I hate those bendy busses, their drivers are like scary automotons who forget they're carrying people. I walk half a mile to the next one, and luckily manage to get the last train from London Bridge. Hurrah.