Orta Bar, Ljubljana Slovenia

It turns out that weekends are quiet in Ljubljana. Students and the workers leave town, so Saturday night, even in the big venue I played in, was dead quiet. The small audience did the best they could though. We worked together. I got offered another show in Graz (in Celje I got one in Maribour, so it all leads to something else).

I could stay here a few more days quite happily. It's a small, easy-going, walkable town. I met some very nice people through couch-surfing and have had thorough tours. I opted for a hotel for the last two nights just to have some quiet time to do booking. I'm doing Canada in May today. It's a weight that hangs on me - the trouble with doing everything is that you're always missing something. A good show means a late night which means less booking. The conflict. The ebb and flow of energy, and the power lost in the transition. Etc.
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Roc was one of the guys who insisted on a guided tour. He always takes all the couchsurfers to a bookshop with a girl working there who he worships from afar. It has a few anarchistic tooms and he produces Slovenia's student magazine dedicated to the same course. I decided to put him out of his misery and invited the girl to the show as my guest, so he could get to know her.

However, he was thrown into a deep sweat by the prospect and come the moment of truth, he didn't come. I was left on my own to entertain her and her friend after the show. We went to Metelkova, an old army barracks that had been squatted and turned into a commune. The crowd was either very young or very old with few inbetween.

We wandered in and out of makeshift bars and clubs across the grounds. A drink in each and the night soon wore on. The pretty little object of Roc's affections seemed to becoming affectionate to me and the moral dilemma, the cruelest of the seven dilemmas, presented itself. In a sudden fit of what I later took to be my conscience, though it could have been indigestion, came to my mind. I made my excuses and stumbled back to the hotel.

Stepping into the elevator I noticed an advert for a nightclub in the basement. My hand hovered over the buttons. Up to slumber or down to sin. Still grumbling from the opportunity lost I chose down.

The elevator opened on to a huge ballroom with loud music, red velvet curtains and plush fittings. A classic nightclub scene except for the lack of people. I looked around finally to round on a group of three blond girls sitting alone at the bar. The knowledge that it was too good to be true only dampened my enthusiasm slightly.

- The girls drink champagne
The bartender said, in a husky voice. I bet they do.
- You have to ask them for the price
Cursing my luck, I rolled into the elevator and away from temptation.