So here I am, but in all other rational elements, where else would I be? I wouldn't be there with you as you read this, otherwise I could just tell you what I'm gonna write, and there would be no point to me setting up this blog.
So, here is Barcelona. I'm about to study a TEFL course and begin teaching out here. I've been here since Tuesday. I've done the typical Englishman abroad thing and got burnt within days. I've bought soft cheese thinking it was hard cheese. I've got confused by the lift in my block of flats and just given up and walked the 5 storeys, numerous times, but am now super-familiar with the heavy duty doors and their new found relationship with my aggressive right foot swinging towards them. I've found myself frustrated at tourists even though I've only been here a few days. I've found my ears still prick up every time I hear English being spoken. The first occasion nearly resulted in me saying "Oh....you are English too. We can be friends surely", and the best was hearing some Landaners talking about "bettin' on de 'orses". That one made me walk a bit faster.
I've found a record shop which has nearly become my second home, and I think I'm already annoying the owners by just flicking through the vinyl, getting excited at obscure Krautrock (wow....Future Days....on vinyl??...holy cow!! Ege Bamyasi too!!) and LP's consisting of psychedelic versions of 'Beat Classics like you've never heard them before'. My only slightly redeeming moment was holding a Julian Cope record and considering saying to the owner..."I know him....He knows me"... Even in moments of inane desperation, I remembered I'm quite a cool person, and this would not be cool at all. Quite worryingly I nearly spent 40 euros on vinyl, knowing full well I have no turntable in my flat....and everything in the world is now on Spotify anyway.
Musically, I've been immersing myself in the improvisational stroke of genius that is Keith Jarrett's Koln concert. Around 40 minutes of gushing piano intricities and the fella groaning at his own beautiful mayhem as he creates it. That, and quite bizarrely, the work of Frank Turner. I toured with this guy a few years ago and generally consider him to be an egotistical arse, but a damn good songwriter he is. This song especially...
This Town Ain't Big Enough For The One Of Me
A free house, a sound-system and a fridge full of beer;I've known how this story ends for a good few years.The night lays out before my eyes, there's no new faces, no surprises.This town is growing old with me, so I'm making a move.
Everybody round here's been out with everybody else,Which makes talking to girls hazardous to my health.They've been in this genepool so long they've got wrinkled toes;I don't want all her exes to be people I know.There's millions more fish in the sea, so I'm making a move.
I'm bored of this town, bored of this scene, bored of these people, yeah.I'm an expert at pretending that everything is OK,But I'm just a kid and it seems as if I've signed my life away.I need to get out and see what the rest of the world is about.This town ain't big enough for the one of me, I'm making a move.
Every guy with long hair round here is a star,According to his girlfriend and the way that he holds his guitar.If anyone gets out they stick in the knife, I don't want to get stuck here for the rest of my life.I'm sick of these fuckers, I'm moving on.
I still want to be buried here, just like I said, but I'd prefer it if you'd wait until I'm actually dead.It's easy to get caught inside a town that seems to have a hive-mind,But I'm packing up and moving on,When I move out from my parents' house I'm gone, yeah fuck you guys I'm gone.
This town ain't big enough for the one of me,So why don't you get from in front of me?We're all going to move to london anyway, so I'll see you in town.
-------Very nice huh? I guess that's where my mind was at on leaving Swindon. I'm off to my balcony terrace to smoke a cigarette and listen to Mr Jarrett freaking out on the ivories. Alright alright.
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