Well, it's kicking in now. Christ, how many more days here?? Is this the place people go to die? We're actually getting to like the staff canteen, which has GOT to be a bad sign. Nick's gone off to Spain for solo gig so we're left here trying to avoid the casino, walking up and down the boardwalk buying $50 snacks and washing our smalls. The Resorts Hotel was actually the first casino in Atlantic City (1929? Probably when it was last painted too) it has the distinct air of dead-gangsters-in-the-foundation. ("He was a rat, seeee? Thought he was a canary, he could sing to the Feds but he couldn't fly") The pattern in the carpet's enough to trigger a migraine and the air conditioning is permanently set to minus 300. Great.
Been in search of the mythical Guitar Shop on Atlantic avenue - which definitely doesn't exist by the way - and had a few meals in the brilliant Atlantic City Bar and Grill (ACBG for those in the know), New York Strip Steak cooked to perfection. The most fun we've had has been crying laughing at Birch's mix of "ShitHouse" - a house track made up entirely of beats and farts - (find it here: myspace.com/shithouseuk)
Cabin Fever Strikes - (note my ironing board in the background Mum...)
Good company to be had, but I can't wait to get out of this city! We're leaving early tomorrow for Baltimore. Thank you sweet baby jesus.
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