That's what my life is at the moment, and probably what this post will be. I've just been loafing about playing computer games and staring vacantly into space. I know I'm bad when I try and play the bass and get nothing, I play but I can't string a decent groove together, can't remember any songs I've learned in the past and my bass doesn't sound good. This is something that I have to keep telling myself is my fault and not the fault of the gear. Many people have fallen into that trap. Hank Marvin (guitarist with the shadows) being a good example; he had a nervous breakdown and became convinced that his stratocaster was constantly drifting out of tune and stopped using it.
But anyway, why am I rambling about 1950's skiffle guitarists who played with the closeted purveyor of ultimate filth? I must be going soft in the head.
Today I went up to london with my new lovely new CV; Improved, and filled with diplomatic extensions of the truth, exaggerations and the occasional outright lie. I spend about a day working on it with the help of parents, brother and friends.
And...
I got nothing. Yes, I have now been rejected by Adecco, Knightsbridge, Reed and Hodges, all of which before I could even produce my CV from its folder. Bastards. They all basically said, to paraphase a little, "You a student? Well fuck off then, we're up to our eyeballs in students". So no dice. Eddie, who is in some pretty serious debt - not having managed Ben's patented inexplicable frugality trick - is getting mildly fustrated, in a mellow sort of way. I would say he is worried or frustrated or angry, but he doesn't go to those kind of extremes. He just looks slightly vexed and leaves it at that.
He makes me look like some kind of hysterical neurotic.
I was given a list of specialist temping agencies in London that cater for different Career paths; engineering, advertising, financial etc. The Branch manager that dealt with temporary work in the Construction and Industrial sectors was called - wait for it - MANLEY SUMMERS! is that not the most appropriate name ever? I've got this image of a guy in a hard hat with a big Tom Selleck mustache and a hard hat on, listening to disco in his office.
Tomorrow I think I'm off to the job centre on the high street to try and find some menial floor scrubbing job or something. It's annoying but oh well, as with all university employment things the second and third years bagged it all years ago and are clinging onto it like a tramp with a bottle of White Lightning.
Wow, it was just as dull as I promised. Go me.
-Ben
