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How can we take the time if we never make the time?

How can we take the time if we never make the time?

Busy London commuters, taken by DriftWords There’s a fascinating article in the Washington Post about what happened when they persuaded a world-class violinist, using a rare Stradivarius, to play some of the world’s ‘best’ classical music purposes while standing on an intersection in a busy Washington D.C. Metro station. Would commuters stop, and listen in awe – or move on in their busy lives?

Ironically, the article itself – as presented on the web – is so hideously long and complicated, I had to skim-read to find out what happened next. So the article online is definitely not a work of art. 😉

The hell of Swansea townie nightclubs

The hell of Swansea townie nightclubs

This weekend was spent on the almost-annual visit to Swansea with some old pally schoolmates to eat, get drunk and in theory have a good time.

Admittedly, the following is tainted by my feeling a bit tired but Time/Envy nightclub in Swansea has to count as one of the worst places in Swansea, let alone the planet. My fourth level of hell for the following reasons:

  • The dancefloor for the commerical section – the first bit we saw – is just a glorified bit of concrete inbetween two bars
  • The music played rapidly turned into R&B crapola
  • It cost £8 to get in! £8!!!
  • £4 for a beer!!!!

The inane (male) townies who infested the club in their check shirts defied belief. One particular sample kept drunkenly trying to paw my friend’s gf – even though she kept putting his hand away. And then he drunkenly tried to engage me in conversation about how wonderful the Japanese rugby team were. Great, thanks mate. Just prove to me I don’t fit in remotely. Normally, I’d grin inanely and take it in the spirit intended but I’d had enough and let out in a giant roar “I AM NOT FROM FUCKING JAPAN”. But that still didn’t get rid of him.

To top off the night of hell, they announced halfway thru that since the clocks were going back, we were going to have an extra hour of this hell.

To be fair, there were one or two positive aspects of the place. The eye candy was mostly acceptable. The commerical dancefloor part of the place looked a bit more like it, and had better music. Although the flourescent dancers were a bit much. And spending the weekend with my schoolmates and their respective gfs is always fun.

But what is the point of nightclubs? Can someone please tell me how to enjoy them? Or is it a case of getting as drunk as you can as quickly as you can, and then getting all sweaty?

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