CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY NIGHTS

england is like some kind of beautiful dream, where every day is filled with magic and wonder. I was apprehensive before leaving Christchurch, city of dreams, but I knew as soon as I reached Birmingham's bricked victorian slums that I had reached
"something special."



its not the miserable people that are incapable of smiling.




its not the constant rain and walking around in new "tresspass" anorak, picked out by my grandmother who said it made me look "swave." [sic] it has a detachable hood.


this image is meant to represent the average English spring day, unfortunately I don't have a picture of myself "rambling" in my blue anorak, suffice to say, its pretty sexy. number of babes scored whilst wearing anorak = seven.


its not the fear and racism




it was the kiss cover's night



I didn't realise that anyone even liked Kiss (typeset as KISS), to be honest. I thought they existed as some kind of joke that they have successfully played on the music scene that still serves to earn them considerable sums of money, kind of like "dem Klappies". Although even the Klap don't earn as much as Kiss(typeset as KISS). And certainly not the non-lead-singer members of aforementioned CHCH band.

according to wikipedia, the only reliable information source,

The resulting Kiss Alive/Worldwide/Lost Cities/Reunion Tour was the top-grossing act of 1996 and 1997.

i don't know waht that means in real money terms, but probably a lot.



Anyway, worldly advice from J. Phillips

"don't go to a KISS covers night, like seriously, don't"


The covers night was filled with the combined mass of Wolverhampton's forty something music elite, with teased dyed blonde hair and spandex for the mostly overweight women and every older rock guy cliche possible.

Sidenote.

It must be hard when you are facing middleage and increasingly your lifestyle choices begin to impact on your ability to get an "easy lay." I guess joining together with like-minded females who have made the same decisions and are seemingly stuck in 1986 is the only possible way that these guys can...

FUCK, having real issues, lost my COMEDIC EDGE.

FUCKCKCKCKCKKC

...proceed to, during the "process" of the night, make out horrifically with the eighties post-babes . It was like being caught in the beginning of a sexcapade, like a really bad set up for a pornographic film or something. It felt so seedy. I thought there was nothing seedier than power rock from the seventies performed by middle aged men who paint their face and wear spandex, but in the fans I discovered that there are even deeper bowels of seediness.


My knowledge of KISS consisted of a number of eighties hits. I didn't like any of them. Leaving the concert I still didn't like any KISS songs. It was pretty alarming to be in an audience of people who loved and adored the back catalogue of Kiss. It was encouraging to find people so passionate about something so wrong. I felt a brief tenderness towards these sweaty delusional beasts rampaging to "Psycho Circus." If they could, for a night, ignore the pallid versions of these expendable songs, ignore the plasticky beer taste from the jugs, ignore their problems at home, then maybe other people, not just Kiss fans could ignore the not-so-awesome aspects of life for a night.

I thought England was going to be nothing but violence and drugs, racism and hot beats. As it is, England is everything but the hot beats.



other KISS news



PAUL "STARMAN?" STANLEY LIVE IN WELLINGTON, why did I ever leave New Zealand?