Finally - a use for social networking

So my line of work has led me to have to engage with quite a lot of the rubbish that's written about social networking and how it's going to transform our world... it's not that I don't believe it, but more that I find the zealot-like nature of some of the main advocates of these arguments a little creepy. And I can't escape the suspicion that the vast majority of them (with a few honourable exceptions like him and him) are basically socially awkward freak boys.

Anyway. I have found a site that I genuinely think is excellent (thanks, S). Scarlet Mist is a site for fan-to-fan ticket swaps at face prices. What'll all those touts at Brixton station do now hmm? I am *hoping* that the site delivers on all the various gigs I appear to have missed out on whilst in hibernation... things like Goldfrapp at RFH, or Vampire Weekend, or Robyn. Was amused to spot gigs by Joe Satriani and Terrorvision whilst perusing, although I think I can live without those ones... even if G can't...

Sunday night feeling

I've got it bad. Turns out that taking three weeks out makes going back to work a pretty scary prospect. So tonight I've been trying to cheer myself up by thinking about all the good things coming up this month. My lovely ma helped by emailing me a scan of the horoscopes from some magazine she was reading to prove to me that this is year is to be my best yet (thanks, Jupiter...)

Anyway. Think I might not rely purely on the stars to make this true. So, in no particular order, and to make up for the fact I'm not jetting off to Thailand like B, some things that should bring inspiration into the rest of January... and that probably require ticket purchasing...

Sweeney Todd. Tim Burton, Helena Bonham Carter (who it turns out I really like - see here for a great interview with the wonderful Barbara Ellen), and, of course, Johnny Depp. It's got singing but I'm intrigued enough to get over my usual musical-phobia. Launches end Jan here.

Lust, Caution. I suggested going to see this with S next weekend but have just noticed that it runs for 3 hours, and I think I'd rather spend some of the evening actually interacting... still, Ang Lee doing Shanghai, 1940s, affairs (hetero this time, in case you were wondering) - a pretty irresistible combination. And it's high time I saw another Shanghai film - the last one was 2046, which I loved, but was too long ago.

The Importance of Being Earnest. This is the first theatre performance I really remember going to. I was v excited, and remember laughing a lot - probably thanks to the wonderfuls Jane Horrocks and Maggie Smith, both of whom were starring in it. This time round it's Penelope Keith. On at the Vaudeville Theatre, 22 Jan to 26 April. I *pray* that this means that the Stomp run is finally over...

I will go to the Roundhouse very, very soon. I will I will I will. I will.

Also I must book tickets for Goldfrapp THIS WEEK before they sell out. Playing at Southbank Centre (of course) as part of the Ether festival in April.

Ah, the Lyric Hammersmith. My favourite. Even typing it brings a smile to my face. This time, they're doing a production of Kafka's Metamorphosis, between Jan 11th and Feb 2nd.

And for those nights when I can't face the glittering lights of London's West End (or its cold grey pavements), I've read somewhere that there's going to be a programme or three about Thatch's early career, but I can't for the life of me locate the little torn out bit of magazine that gives me any more info than this, dammit. But it sounds so promising...

Culture, innit

On Thursday I pretended to be a lady of leisure, and met my lovely friend K for a late, boozy lunch at the Rex Whistler restaurant at Tate Britain. After a gentle meander around the Millais exhibition, I went down to the cafe and we were ushered into the beautiful room of the restaurant - murals all round, great food, and a very, very good way of wiling away the best part of an afternoon talking about boys (turns out we fancy the same ones, and emotional fuckwits generally. great...). I love hanging around with K. We followed it up with some shopping at the bizarre Army and Navy on Victoria St, whose only saving grace is the cafe at the top, which is good for hiding in. Still, shopping when a bit pissed is never that smart, and I now have a rather expensive jacket that B and J both agreed was 'overpriced and too many buttons'. hey ho. I'll just have to return it and buy something else...

The plan was to continue into the evening but for various reasons that didn't happen. So instead I headed off for more culture - this time a beautiful concert at St John's Smith Square (wicked) - carols and a bunch of Christmas music which was brilliant. All performed by Chantage, apparently the BBC Choir of the Year 2006, but to be honest even typing that makes me feel about 50. As my date put it - 'carol singing - karaoke for the middle classes'. Still, I sung my heart out, melted at the organ playing, and went home happy, and thinking I could get used to doing nothing very much with my time.

At the end of the 344 bus route...

Today I dedicated two hours of my time to the lovely 344 bus (is there *ever* a time when there aren't roadworks between here and Liverpool Street??). But it was worth it: I was hot on the trail of Hidden Art, a bit like Open House for artists, designers and creators. It has reconfirmed, thank god, that not all of London has yet become one big chainstore (not that I'm complaining too much about TopShop). Visited tonnes of tiny little shops around Hanbury and Cheshire Streets, pretending I was a pro shopper for all things interior-related.

I also made my way to Spitalfields market, which was rammed, as ever, where I salivated as quietly as I could over various lights, sideboards and mirrors. I think I will be returning come January when the flat gets made over. There's something in those shops that just makes me want everything. Potentially lethal, but so much more fun than IKEA.

My trail tailed off as I got distracted by Columbia Road flower market, where I spent a good hour simply unable to decide what flowers to buy from such an embarrassment of riches. Predictably I have come home empty handed, but full of ideas and places to return to in January.

It's been a good day: my wanderings were to the music of St Vincent, which is surely one of the best albums of the year (although the live performance S and I saw of her at the Electroacoustic Club really sucked, disappointingly); also, there's a crispness in the air which always gives me a curious mix of nostalgia, whimsy, and anticipation all rolled into one. I want it to be Christmas now.

Time for some new music

So I got bored of my music collection ooo, about 3 months ago, and this morning have finally got round to blowing cash on i-Tunes. They just make it so easy. Am slightly depressed to realise that I've managed to purchase almost entirely female artists, again, but sod it, I like them. Thanks to L's blog all the way from Oz, I have stocked up on Rilo Kiley and Jenny Lewis. Bought the Killers album as I'm sick of everyone knowing it when I don't; Bob Dylan, a particular craving that hit me this morning, and just to satisfy those pop needs, Rihanna and Siobhan Donaghy. Who knew the latter was so good? (well, Pop Justice, apparently. And they know their stuff, being Dragonette's no 1 fan)

It means that next time I go to karaoke (am almost certain there will be a next time now, having broken through the pain barrier that is your first time with a microphone, sorry everyone else) I might have a bit more of a range than Tiffany - yes I know the dance moves too - and Tainted Love... incidentally, if there is a next time, Lucky Voice was pretty good - even if S did mistake 'perrier jouet' for 'prosecco' at some cost; I'd also be happy to sing my heart out at the all-new all-cool Bloomsbury bowling alley.