Goodbye Mr Blackwood

It’s been a long time since my last post. Partly because I’m a lazy good for nothing monkey, and partly because a friend died and I didn’t really want to believe it.

I was rather hoping he had sneaked off to Epping Forest or somewhere like that, and was living a content survivalist life style amongst the trees. I even had a dream about it where he and his partner Emma had a big plan to start up a new eco community in the woods. But no, the body was found, the funeral held. I must admit now, I was probably wrong.

I liked Paul so much, he was someone who felt exciting to be around. Yet despite fancying him there was something slightly frightening about him that meant we could never be that close. I remember meeting him and Emma in a squat party somewhere in North London. They seemed so cool and beautiful, and exciting. They were part of their own scene and they booked Rude Mechanicals for many gigs before putting out our album.

It is puzzling for me, I’ve had a lot of friends die in recent years, and you see I was meant to die first. Twenty years ago the doctors told me the brain condition would kill me within ten years. Twenty years later I’m still here and friends of mine are dying. How can the doctors have been so wrong? I’m not complaining, l’m glad to be still here and relatively ok, it’s just very bemusing. I feel a bit guilty about it.

There are so many people with so many different beliefs, tastes, temperaments in the world. So many arguments, court cases, wars, yet in the end, whoever we are, king or pauper, we will each die (apart from those that want to turn themselves into computers I guess)

Paul and I were going to make an album together, full of odd poetry and found sounds, I let it drift away though, due to poets block and severe laziness. I deeply regret that, it would have been good.

Till we meet again Paul. X

Hot Passion

Illustration for Erotic Review

Friday 28th May 2010.  Hot passion is what my star sign promises for the coming month, but, it says, I musn’t initiate anything myself, I must wait. So I’m waiting…

In the meantime I’m drawing illustrations for Erotic Review magazine, and discussing my darkest fantasies with the Acid Panda on the W3 bus to White Hart Lane. My star sign also says I musn’t reveal any secrets this month so I’m not telling you any dark fantasies right now. The Acid Panda is Anarchistwood‘s depraved drummer. The first time I ever saw her she was on stage naked except for a fine layer of chocolate sauce. She tells me drummers come in two types, the sober straight laced type and the Animal. Acid Panda definitely leans towards the Animal side. Rude Mechanicals are borrowing her for this Sundays gig at Inn on the Green, Ladbroke grove, where we will be playing with Anarchistwood and loads of other really good bands. It’s all free so if you’re around come along, it starts at 4 and is bound to be sinful and warped!

illustration for Erotic Review.

Lynda Beast may be returning for this gig. It is rumoured that Stanley Bad has had a nasty accident with a razor (Miss Roberts denies all allergations). Which reminds me I must do that chocolate eating video I said I would do to prove I can be far more sexy with a bar of chocolate than Stanley, who was mere vile flotsam.

On the subject of fortune telling and fate I had a vivid dream last night where I was in a windowless room with Scooby Doo. I think I dreamt this because yesterday I’d been talking about what sort of dog I should get with Cos and Dylan. I’m going to Battersea Dogs Home next wednesday to look for a dog.  Also on Tuesday Tommy G was singing the theme tune from Scooby Doo in rehearsal. He always sings that, some kind of minor malfunction which we havn’t corrected yet due to it being mildly endearing. Though it does remind me a bit of 2001 Space Odyssey where HAL’s logic is completely gone and he begins singing the song “Daisy Bell“.

In the dream I was talking to Scooby when he turned into china and became covered in a black and yellow zig zag pattern. Although this made a nice ornament it wasn’t very good to talk to. Then the china cracked and Scooby Doo crumpled into tiny pieces on the floor. I had to sweep the pieces up with a dust pan and brush, but I wasn’t unhappy about it because inside the china Scooby had been the real Scooby Doo all along. Is that dream telling me I need to get a large brown daft dog that will break all my china? I also keep having dreams where I’m two people which is hard work because all decisions have to be made twice, so nothing much happens in the dream. Do dreams and stars decide our future? Are they at the meeting table putting forward proposals and budgets as I write this? Are they in the end just knocked into towing the party line by the whip of fate, and whose side is he on?

I’m still waiting.