hi blog.

oh, it's been an eventful few days,i say. it was all triggered by the arrival of the (very exciting, a little too exciting, nauseating) swivel chair in my room. it all spiralled out of control.

on mon my friend kitty came down (or up. or along. a little bit up and left.) from london for a visit. we took her to formal. hannah smuggled vodka in wine bottles. (i've just realised that my blog makes it sound like all i do is drink and/or talk about drinking. how juvenile and tiresome. i do sometimes do other things like the other day i wrote an essay and once i saw a cat?). then we went to the bar and continued to drink. then we went to fez and unspecified people bought me drinks and i danced a lot and it was a blast. then we left fez and i got down the stairs and it was raining and i saw kitty sitting on the ground outside fez surrounded by people and covered in blood. we all drunkenly tried to console her (i did so by slurring 'shit, you're bleeding') and discovered that she had fallen over ('stacked it', she called it, curiously) on the dance floor and busted her ankle. it was a bit funny looking and slightly looked like it was bent a little bit the wrong way. we put her in a taxi. i spoke to her the next day (yesterday) on the phone and she said that she felt ok but she couldn't walk and her ankle had turned green.

to cut a long story short i took her to the doctors today (after she had spent a whole day hopping around hannah's room avoiding the thought of hospital) and they took one look at her green ankle and sent us to a&e and a couple of hours later kitty left addenbrooke's on crutches with a broken ankle in a plaster cast. to put the cast on the nurses had to push her poor swollen foot into a 90 degree angle. i nearly threw up having to watch. other people's pain is worse than your own, sometimes. and i hate hospitals but i felt like we both had to be brave. we distracted ourselves by pissing about with the wheelchair and trying not to look at the dying people being wheeled past us on stretchers. it was surreal. it made me shake. but it was a time of bonding, a novel way to catch up, i suppose.

- i saw Fleet Foxes last night and it was one of the most beautiful gigs i have ever been to. robin pecknold's voice is mesmerising, essential. it might not even be his voice, but it is the way in which he pours his whole being into every note he sings. he is every note he sings, every note is him he sings. he sings and it makes your skin tingle. for the encore he came on alone and unplugged his guitar and edged nervously to the front of the stage and suddenly it was just him and us and his voice. he suddenly seemed so vulnerable. after he had sung his last note i studied his face (the eyes of the audience were all on his face) and he looked deflated with the effort, fearful that what he had given us was not enough, that he and his voice were not enough. in that split second of awed silence that preceded our applause he cowered like a child. i wanted to, wanted someone, everyone to climb onto the stage and hug him. i felt at that moment that humanity is good; reciprocality is good. let's all share, and love each other.


good night, blog.