Goths, art and using my ‘inside voice’

I’ve gone deaf in my left ear.

This happened on Friday, not one day after I dropped an enormous wedge of cash on fixing my tooth, which happened not one day after coming down with lurgi. This has led me to believe that my body is destined to always be broken in some shape or form. Brilliantly, as I can’t register with the doctor until next week (their rules), and I gave up after spending 20 minutes on hold to them this morning, hoping to explain the situation, it looks like I’m going to be falling into walls and inadvertently ignoring people for the foreseeable.

Undeterred, Friday saw me ambling around the Tate Modern, partaking in an intense conversation about the merits and definition of art. Apparently my deafness has robbed me of all concept of my ‘quiet voice’, and my companion looked pretty uncomfortable as I followed him around booming ‘BUT WHY IS THIS CLASSED AS ART? IS IT ONLY ART BECAUSE WE’RE BEING TOLD THAT IT IS?’ and then drawing comparisons between art galleries and product-peddling PR people. So yeah. Sorry, dude.

On the suggestion of housemate L, that evening we went to the metal night at Camden’s Electric Ballroom. As a former metal-head (YEAH, WHAT OF IT?) and ill-advised teen goth, this was brilliant. Drowning Pool? Korn? LIMP BIZKIT’S ROLLIN’? Yes, yes, yes. Pretty amusing to witness so many awkward 18 year olds in one place, too. All decked out in their finest Punky Fish gear, with badly applied eyeliner, acting oh-so ‘wacky’ around the disinterested objects of their affections and then getting smashed on cheap, nasty shots and passing out in corners. It was like a horrifying look into my past the future of society. Terrible, non?