This is one of the few, rare occasions where I'll write one of these whilst under the influence of alcohol. The only in fact, to date. Therefore you could say this is truly a ramble, a drunken one at that. I felt compelled to write this after looking at the TV schedule for the upcoming morning on BBC1, it's more than disappointing, but I'll look into that later. I've just come back from attending the university's 'Live Night' which is hosted at the student's union bar. It's 46 minutes past midnight, and it is fair to say I am edging towards being quite inebriated. As such, you should excuse the rambling nature of this short essay. The fantastic aspect of 'Live Nights', apparently previously given the moniker, 'Indie Night', is that you get a lot of cliques and scenesters. I am finding it hard to decide whether I have more distaste towards the RnB folk, or the fake circles of people who attend the alternative music nights.
Such an example of these cliques, are two young fellows I have met previously, but never really tempted to have a conversation with. They are at the height of cool, one of them permanently wearing a tiny scarf, tied in the townie fashion, and the other being a shorter, somehow more immature version. They are also at the height of fashion, obviously having consulted the style advisors from Topman.
Tonight I had the misfortune of talking to them, it was my own fault. I felt obliged to aid an acquaintance of mine, her friend couldn't get away from talking to the pair. I stepped in to give her friend an excuse to leave, and I started to re-kindle our forgotten relationship. Unfortunately, the little one perceived my slightly inebriated state to be of a higher degree than it actually is. He proceeded to insist that his name was 'Dave', thus outsmarting me. It was genius. Especially considering I know his name isn't Dave, or in fact David. I have to concede that I do not actually remember his name, I suppose I haven't found it that important to keep in the forefront of my mind. I do however know that isn't his name. Kudos to this young man, his clique status has obviously gone to his head, intoxicating him more than the pints of Worthingtons I was consuming tonight. Perhaps if I reminded him that true individualism isn't trying to look like the ever so popular 'indie' bands he spots on T4 on Sunday mornings, then he'd realise that he wasn't quite so special. Somehow I feel, my words would fall on deaf ears.
I must apologise, this passage is of a much more self indulgent nature than usual, but it will lead to my analysis of these little groups, and hopefully their eventual destruction in due course. Watch this space.