thievery corporation
it was, in fact, around the time that the shuffled music hit on the downtempo electronica of thievery corporation that i realised my feet had been bare all morning. it's unusual for me to be without shoes on my feet for that long. the need to have my feet covered at all times is the somewhat unfortunate result of having a severe childhood allergy to the venom of the honey bee.
i couldn't and still can't find those shoes anywhere. i only ever own one pair of shoes at any given time. this is for reasons of minimalism. too many grown men own too many pairs of trainers that look almost identical to one another, a cultural phenomenon that puzzles and sickens me. the other day i saw a pair of adidas trainers whose undersoles had been manufactured by 'good year', presumably with the same rubber used on their tyres. so, not only do i get the satisfaction of adidas quality but can rest safe in the knowledge that my footwear is capable of dispersing 800 kilopascals of water on those rainy london days when i'm running along mountain roads, taking tight turns at 60mph.
anyway, digression is one of the top five killers of reader concentration in britain today so, i'll move on. i think the point i was getting at is that the soundtrack to my shoeless awakening proved to be somewhat ironic as i am now convinced that thievery is involved here. i don't lose shoes. especially these shoes. i managed to track these shoes down through the japanese friend of a guy i know who photographs men naked, for a living. his vocation is irrelevant but amusing and in spite of his unfortunate profession he'd somehow found a pair of original onitsuka tiger trainers from the 1980's.
for those of you reading from the backwaters of africa or lancashire, onitsuka tigers were the forerunner to what is now known as asics. the reason i wanted to own them is because they are rare and were handstitched by a diminutive japanese man for an italian athlete who was competing in the 1988 olympics. when the runner opted for locally produced mizuno shoes, the little man decided to keep them. until about eight months ago when i got hold of them for a price that will remain undisclosed at this time. needless to say, these shoes are special to me, not least because i don't want to walk around london barefoot.
i was due to meet up with wes and 'the reg' to conduct some business and visit a couple of old friends up in north london, but with the change of circumstances i had no choice but to invite them round to casa stampfer. wes had a new cap today and entered through the giant front door, wringing his hands and swaggering as if he'd been on the receiving end of some kind of medievil anal torture. apparently that's a very 'street' gait. stampfer emerged from the kitchen with a poorly disguised look of complete disdain and thrust a marigold gloved hand in wes's direction. it's without exaggeration that i tell you he looked like a complete twat.
wes was around long enough to conduct our business but i made cetain he left before he got the chance to steal anything. 'the reg' arrived just as wes was leaving and the two of them pretended not to know each other. it's by pure co-incidence that 'the reg' is armed with a special talent: that of picking locks. i once witnessed him pick the lock of holiday inn hotel room door using nothing but the wax endings of his shoelaces. i told him my problem...
now, i don't mean to get all agatha christie on you but the evidence is pointing to claire, in the case of the onitsuka tiger theft. during nick's shambolic thai meal she took a distinct interest in my shoes.
yes, they're rare
yes, they're probably somewhat valuable
surely it's also no co-incidence that her room is the only one in the house that is locked. i led 'the reg' to the door in question, passing a bemused looking nick stampfer in the passageway as we went.
it took fifteen minutes for 'the reg' to give up. "it's these victorian locks, you see... they're too hectic". i ushered him out the house so that i could gather my thoughts. "sorry bro, but thanks anyway for...", the sound of his voice attenuated as the huge door slammed to a close. i like that door.
anyway, i write to you now shoeless. i have a cake in the system which should help me deal with the impending confrontation with this fiend, claire who is clearly some kind of weird kleptomaniac and only agreed to be part of this circus because it's an easy score.
she's probably got ghandi's shoes in there, too.
oh, before you go i should tell you. i applied my theory of pulling american women last night. i'd been meaning to test it on gina and it worked yet again. whilst passing her in the corridor i put the theory into practice: (saying something remotely eloquent) + (speaking in a remotely exotic accent) = (success with american girls). try it, you accent doesn't even have to be convincing. i think it's got something to do with the romantic aspect of their televisual upbringing, like the 'love boat' element or something.
more later. fire and brimstone.
- joseph
------------------------------------
Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey
i couldn't and still can't find those shoes anywhere. i only ever own one pair of shoes at any given time. this is for reasons of minimalism. too many grown men own too many pairs of trainers that look almost identical to one another, a cultural phenomenon that puzzles and sickens me. the other day i saw a pair of adidas trainers whose undersoles had been manufactured by 'good year', presumably with the same rubber used on their tyres. so, not only do i get the satisfaction of adidas quality but can rest safe in the knowledge that my footwear is capable of dispersing 800 kilopascals of water on those rainy london days when i'm running along mountain roads, taking tight turns at 60mph.
anyway, digression is one of the top five killers of reader concentration in britain today so, i'll move on. i think the point i was getting at is that the soundtrack to my shoeless awakening proved to be somewhat ironic as i am now convinced that thievery is involved here. i don't lose shoes. especially these shoes. i managed to track these shoes down through the japanese friend of a guy i know who photographs men naked, for a living. his vocation is irrelevant but amusing and in spite of his unfortunate profession he'd somehow found a pair of original onitsuka tiger trainers from the 1980's.
for those of you reading from the backwaters of africa or lancashire, onitsuka tigers were the forerunner to what is now known as asics. the reason i wanted to own them is because they are rare and were handstitched by a diminutive japanese man for an italian athlete who was competing in the 1988 olympics. when the runner opted for locally produced mizuno shoes, the little man decided to keep them. until about eight months ago when i got hold of them for a price that will remain undisclosed at this time. needless to say, these shoes are special to me, not least because i don't want to walk around london barefoot.
i was due to meet up with wes and 'the reg' to conduct some business and visit a couple of old friends up in north london, but with the change of circumstances i had no choice but to invite them round to casa stampfer. wes had a new cap today and entered through the giant front door, wringing his hands and swaggering as if he'd been on the receiving end of some kind of medievil anal torture. apparently that's a very 'street' gait. stampfer emerged from the kitchen with a poorly disguised look of complete disdain and thrust a marigold gloved hand in wes's direction. it's without exaggeration that i tell you he looked like a complete twat.
wes was around long enough to conduct our business but i made cetain he left before he got the chance to steal anything. 'the reg' arrived just as wes was leaving and the two of them pretended not to know each other. it's by pure co-incidence that 'the reg' is armed with a special talent: that of picking locks. i once witnessed him pick the lock of holiday inn hotel room door using nothing but the wax endings of his shoelaces. i told him my problem...
now, i don't mean to get all agatha christie on you but the evidence is pointing to claire, in the case of the onitsuka tiger theft. during nick's shambolic thai meal she took a distinct interest in my shoes.
yes, they're rare
yes, they're probably somewhat valuable
surely it's also no co-incidence that her room is the only one in the house that is locked. i led 'the reg' to the door in question, passing a bemused looking nick stampfer in the passageway as we went.
it took fifteen minutes for 'the reg' to give up. "it's these victorian locks, you see... they're too hectic". i ushered him out the house so that i could gather my thoughts. "sorry bro, but thanks anyway for...", the sound of his voice attenuated as the huge door slammed to a close. i like that door.
anyway, i write to you now shoeless. i have a cake in the system which should help me deal with the impending confrontation with this fiend, claire who is clearly some kind of weird kleptomaniac and only agreed to be part of this circus because it's an easy score.
she's probably got ghandi's shoes in there, too.
oh, before you go i should tell you. i applied my theory of pulling american women last night. i'd been meaning to test it on gina and it worked yet again. whilst passing her in the corridor i put the theory into practice: (saying something remotely eloquent) + (speaking in a remotely exotic accent) = (success with american girls). try it, you accent doesn't even have to be convincing. i think it's got something to do with the romantic aspect of their televisual upbringing, like the 'love boat' element or something.
more later. fire and brimstone.
- joseph
------------------------------------
Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey
posted by Joey Standton at 3:33 PM
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