(diaryland) July 15, 2001 - 11:26 p.m.

I have a Fantomas ticket in my hot little hands. My hands are hot because they are warm. My hands are warm because they are holding a Fantomas ticket. My hands are holding a Fantomas ticket because they are hot. Get it?

Last time I went to see Fantomas, it took me four hours to get home. Hopefully, it will take a little less next time. I may get to meet them. That would make my entire dimension.

Right now, I am liking a band named Life Without Buildings very much. This week, I will buy their album.

Last night, Michele and I went to a You Am I concert to see the support band, named the Strokes. Everybody who is anybody says that they are the coolest band around, but that is probably at least eighty percent to do with the fact that they wear ties. They were great, though. I loved them. There was one just amazing song that reminded me of something you'd realise in the bell tower of a ruined church. I totally forgot the name of the song.

I thought that the singer had great skin. My my, I thought. It is shiny and new. The purple light that was shining on the singer turned green. Suddenly, he had a thousand pimples. But it was all good. Everybody knows that one goes to musical concerts for the music.

Then You Am I played, and they decided to play all their obscure B-side type songs, though they did play Mr. Milk. I was kind of hoping they would play that nifty song from their latest album, but we got tired and left before they finished. Apparently, the night before, they'd played for two hours. I've always tried very hard to like You Am I, as they seemed like the sort of band I should like, but I'd only liked the occasional song, like Berlin Chair. I didn't really like their Easybeats obsession. But then, this new album is great. Just thought I should say that.

This morning, I was in the car and that lovely Strokes song came on. I was back in the belltower again, but I completely forgot to listen for the name.