http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isU5pPyWHyQ
New York, I Love YouBut you’re bringing me downNew York, I Love YouBut you’re bringing me downLike a rat in a cagePulling minimum wageNew York, I Love YouBut you’re bringing me downNew York, you’re saferAnd you’re wasting my timeOur records all showYou are filthy but fineBut they shuttered your storesWhen you opened the doorsTo the cops who were boredOnce they’d run out of crimeNew York, you’re perfectDon’t please don’t change a thingYour mild billionaire mayor’sNow convinced he’s a kingSo the boring collectI mean all disrespectIn the neighborhood barsI’d once dreamt I would drinkNew York, I Love YouBut you’re freaking me outThere’s a ton of the twistBut we’re fresh out of shoutLike a death in the hallThat you hear through your wallNew York, I Love YouBut you’re freaking me outNew York, I Love YouBut you’re bringing me downNew York, I Love YouBut you’re bringing me downLike a death of the heartJesus, where do I start?But you’re still the one poolWhere I’d happily drownAnd OH, Take me off your mailing listFor kids that think it still existsYes, for those who think it still existsMaybe I’m wrongAnd maybe you’re rightMaybe I’m wrongAnd maybe you’re rightMaybe you’re rightMaybe I’m wrongAnd just maybe you’re rightAnd Oh..Maybe mother told you trueAnd they’re always be something there for youAnd you’ll never be aloneBut maybe she’s wrongAnd maybe I’m right
Maybe she’s wrongAnd maybe I’m rightAnd if so, is there?And just maybe she’s wrong
Crappy sundays are the best

Donc aujourd’hui, en ce merveilleux dimanche 4 décembre, j’avais prévu de:
1) travailler mon anglais
2) travailler mon anglais
3) travailler mon anglais
4) faire du violon
5) faire le ménage
6) si j’avais le temps, cuisiner, faire un peu de guitare et éventuellement un peu de couture.
Il s’avère qu’à 18h10, j’ai bel et bien fait le ménage (GO ME!) mais que je suis toujours en pyjama, passionnée par ma nouvelle passion pour les classements musicaux dans mon superbe Moleskine: music journal. J’ai fait des playlists plus funky les unes que les autres: “Pré-clubbing” (tu sais, celle qu’il te faut le vendredi soir quand tu en as marre d’écouter les choix musicaux des autres, c’est-à-dire le 80s rigolo, les parodies musicales françaises ou du reggae), “Minimal”, “Fuck it all” (quand il n’y a que le rock’n’roll pour sauver ta journée), “Dubstep” et “Drum’n’Bass”. C’est incroyable à quel point on se prend au jeu, hein?! C’est une de ces moments types du dimanche après-midi, 15h40: juste trop tard pour réellement faire quelque chose de productif mais juste trop tôt pour avoir une excuse valable. Du coup, il est 18h15, je suis toujours en pyjama, à écouter Mathew Jonson, Subscape, Bassnectar et compagnie. J’ai même eu une rechute DEV (ça arrive, me direz-vous).
Ce qui me mène à vous parler de l’amour de ma vie, j’ai nommé: THE CLASH. C’est marrant, ces groupes qu’on connaît depuis des années, qu’on a écouté, re-écouté. Dont on connaît toutes les reprises imaginables (I fought the Law - Green Day, Guns of Brixton - Nouvelle Vague), au dessous desquels on dort (cf. poster de London Calling, ouais ouais, celui où il casse sa guitare sur la scène OUAHOU c’est trop rock’n’roll) et avec lesquels on se serait mariés si, comme on l’a toujours souhaité, on était né avant 1977. Ces groupes-ci, DONC, on oublie de leur accorder l’attention qu’ils méritent pendant quelques mois, et lorsqu’ils re-débarquent dans notre vie (cf. The ultimate Music Guide: Special the Clash, le magazine incroyable que j’ai acheté pourl’avionparcequecommeçajem’ennuieraipas et que j’ai o.u.b.l.i.é dans le petit filet orange Easyjet d’arrière-siège, oui, celui qu’on pense toujours défier en y rangeant quoi que ce soit sans l’oublier par la suite), c’est la TEMPÊTE! (je suis d’humeur ringarde aujourd’hui).
Je me suis ainsi replongée dans l’histoire des Clash, les interviews dans lesquelles Joe Strummer est un génie, Paul Simonon un rebelle et Mick Jones à côté de la plaque, et j’ai envie de dire: Les Clash, c’est le plus beau groupe de la terre. (Il faudrait que je mette cette phrase en évidence afin que tout le monde ici se rappelle de cette citation. De moi. Comme ça, ça fait comme si que j’étais une critique musicale trop que elle a la cote) Les Clash, c’est le plus beau groupe de la terre. (ça, c’est fait. Je suis déchaînée aujourd’hui.) Et comme disait Joe: If you don’t understand what we’re talking about, ask the guy next to you. C’est en s’impliquant autant dans la musique et en se dévouant aux causes qui leur étaient chères que ces mecs ont tout révolutionné, qu’ils ont pu être potes avec des mecs aussi cools que Don Letts (Punk Attitude, sérieusement, regardez ce documentaire) et qu’ils confirment ce que j’ai toujours pensé du punk: c’est un mode de vie.
BIG UP POUR LES CLASH <3
Last week when I took bus number 390 to Notting Hill gate to go to work, a woman went crazy and shouted at the driver because he had to stop the bus for us to change. When I said out loud to the other people who were there “Chill out, it’s just a bus”, they all looked at me as in “How dare you say that”.
This morning, a bus driver was sitting at a bus stop and smiled and waved at our bus’s driver. I love it when bus drivers are intimate and complice to each other.
No wonder London’s bus drivers are a mess.
17th July Lesson: Take a cheap cardigan and style it.
This has been a perfect sunday since the first noticeable event was my flatmate bringing me a (n almost) full Irish breakfast in bed. Then it rained and I finally got down to doing some sewing, facing the window covered in raindrops, drinking tea, watching Gossip Girl and listening to some Marcel Dettman.
This is july in London.
Topshop and the customers
This is a demand. A MASSIVE demand.
To everyone going shopping - for everyone working in retail:
Several rules are to be respected.
1) When you are coming out of the fitting rooms:
a) take your hangers with yourself.
b) put your clothes back on the hangers.
b) do not THROW your clothes at the poor person designated to work out of the fitting room that day; hand them in as a civilised person would.
c) do not look down at that person when they ask you to put your clothes back on the hangers (cf. rule b)).
d) bring the number tag members of staff give you at the entrance with you at the exit. That’s the whole point of it.
e) do not squeeze the aforementioned tag between your hangers. It is nice to try and help but this just makes it more awkward.
e) be patient if the staff is hanging the previous clothes on the rail: they have to in order to hang YOUR clothes on it. Breathing in an obnoxiously loud manner does not change anything but make them want to take more time doing it.
f) do not put the number tag on its support by yourself. The AIM of the number tag is to allow the member of staff working to check if the number written on it is the same as the amount of clothes you are giving back. QED.
2) In the shop:
a) “Hey, I am looking for a black skirt I’ve seen on a picture. Do you know where it is?” Topshop Oxford Street is (in one word): BIG. If I knew every single black skirt there is, I would gladly help you but fact is: there are too many. You will need to be slightly more precise if you want my help. Sorry about that.
b) “I do not want those 343149 dresses I got upstairs anymore, should I just leave them on this rail (which does not have anything to do with the brand those 343149 dresses are from)?” The answer is “no, you shall not.” Please be considerate.
c) “Oh, I am going to have a look at this dress (the one in the middle of the rail). And to perfectly enjoy it, I will take it out of the rail, tuck it inside out and put it back 1) in the wrong rail 2) the wrong side facing the shop 3) without the hanger (let us have fun). This is not acceptable anymore: I might have to smash you in the face next time you do this.
Thank you for reading and enjoy your shopping.
:)

