I did a gig with me and my band that was fucking ace, and the next day I did one with Why Out? and that too was mega fun. By that point I’d almost lost my voice. Now I have pretty much lost my voice, and am ill, ILL, and so therefore have not the brain capacity for the usually lucid thought. to fimgers interfacing. Hence I shall stop writing now. I am supposed to be DJing in Birmingham tonight! But no!

It is a terrible shame.

Normal service will resume shortly.

Killed it, babies.

Whaddya mean, the photographer lost her fifteen year old fingerbang virginity to Died In Your Arms Tonight? YOU WISH YOU WERE THAT DOPE! Fucking classic son. Shut your fucking face you freak. REALLY!

Power of the internet! Yesterday this guy had a dozen thousand hits. Now he’s got three million and he’s getting his threesome! What a wonderful world!

Saying that, Haliburton just announced record profits. Again.

“The Houston-based company reported first-quarter net income of $488 million, or 91 cents per share, versus $365 million, or 72 cents per share in the year-earlier quarter.

Revenue rose to $5.21 billion from $4.78 million a year earlier.”

Come on! Jesus jack jumping Christ on a monorail, this is beyond taking this piss! This is post-looting! This is post-irony! This is post-weird! This is fucked in the face!

No-bid-fucking-ridiculous contract-winning, war-profiteering, oil-price-fixing, government running, New Orleans raping, human slave trading, genocidal SCUM, son, what the motherfuck? What dimension is this? Thank fuck for quantum physics - if I had to believe for one second that this was it, this was the be all and end all, I would fucking implode.

Serious.

I heard Finland are entering a heavy metal act called Lordi at this year’s Eurovision. I like that. I like that a lot.

OK, that’s me for the minute. See you tonight! It’s gonna be RAH!

I switched my whiskey mixer from Coke to ginger last night, and got more hammered than I’ve been since I was last in New York. Jeres says we got a cab home, but I have no memory of that at all. Jeres also says he’d have a go at me for being such a fucking horrible drunk, but that’s what I do to him, so he shall refrain, because he isn’t a prick, or something.

I remember shouting at Piranha Deathray (who were very good, actually), running into Frankie Poulaine (who I haven’t seen since The Darkness were supporting Robbie Williams), dancing in a quite hardcore fashion with Jeres, or maybe Gwilym, to whatever it was Luke was playing. That’s about it. I hurt I hurt I hurt, now I have keyboard issues to digest and assimilate.

Still, at least I didn’t go getting arrested at Heathrow airport for fighting coppers like Snoop Dogg. Damn!

OK. I have things to contend with. Here’s a nice bit of joy by Robert Fisk concerning the Death Of The American Dream.

OH MY GOD.

It is nice to have a film to look forward to.

“Meanwhile, writes The Svenhunter, “Ben has told me that there are rocks you can boil, Icelandic rocks, which will make a kind of tea/soup which you can drink and then you hallucinate and you meet gruff trolls who will answer your queries about life etc.

I want in on this.”

Me too!

I also want to visit these poles of ours. Not my Grandfather’s people, the cold places. Well, those people too. But the cold places seem more magickal. I am looking for more magick, these days.

Anyway, it was promised, so here we go.

It’s time! For! Your! Letters!

I haven’t come up with a title for this letter’s page yet. I figure, like they used to in Marvel comics, I’ll leave that to you. Email in your ideas, and the winner gets a picture of Jeres I drew on a beer mat in the pub the other week.

LETTER OF THE, er, WEEK

……………………………………Aberystwyth v Llangefni.

I for one did not misinterpret the poll, but I did click on “No way, spaz”.

If t’Interscope want you to have something like that, let them set up a corporate site for you a la Bubba Sparxxx and do it that way. t’Interscope may well be the label that pays you, but I visit your website daily (paraphrasing your lyrics, get me) because I enjoy reading your thoughts.

And, get this, we like to fool ourselves into thinking (whispers) you’re talking just to us. Alone. If you put up forums, then we’ll know you’re not just whispering into our shell-likes, but yodelling into the chasm of the Internet for any Thom Yorke, Richard B. Cheney or Harry Nilsson to hear.

Preserve our fragile illusions.

PS. That “FORSOOTH!” flying-dream post came exactly at the right time. I’d just had a bit of bad news, and whilst it did not cheer me up exactly, it made me feel that it was ok to cry about it for a little bit. See, bubba? That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ ’bout. I don’t want everyone knowing. That was meant for me. And you don’t even know why! Hell, I don’t even know why. Skygod at work, fool. Skygod at work.

PPS. The email subject has no bearing on the content, I just like to find inventive ways to pique your interest as you scroll down the litany of emails you get every day.

Who Jah Bless No Man Can Curse.

Jimbo “Boy Dangerfield” Anthony.

And, for now, Dr Jimbo Dangerfield, you shall have your wish, and there will be no messageboard full of bickering on akirathedon.com. You are right, you see - right now I am talking directly to you. I do not sit down and consider a huge mass of humankind when writing my gibberish. I am writing a letter to you. By the way, I am falling in love with Lindsey Lohan, as a result of listening to her records, which are heartbreaking, just so you know.

OK, now for some good news from our friend over the pond who was getting shit for, um, listening to me:

hey dude whats up me nothing well you coused me no grief for i like being diffrent from the juggalos and so called thugs and could care less its not my fault im afraid of clowns they freak me out well peace bro
the ninja you dont know yet

Rah, they still have Juggalos? Wow.

Is it right…
That all us weirdys have access to communicate with you? Maybe, maybe not. Hot shit nevertheless. In every way. Tatty bye bye. Looking forward to Barfly on the 18th by the way!
Claire
p.s atd 12 is the shit

Maybe maybe not is the correct answer.

dude, big ups on ATD12, it rocks. and in that new video of your little place there did i see some lotion next to some tissues? wots that about? ^_^ he, anyways, cheers n keep rockin
NATE

What is it with you people? Those were Pringles! Pringles! And so what if I have bog roll on my table! I have a cold! I shall have a cold for a great while now, actually, as the tree sperm has started invading my face. Stupid gayfever. I need to emigrate.

Hey, in ur next awesome mix tape can u put in touch it mega mix, what you know and temperature? I’m just wondering if you can make that happen.
Thank you
Abraham

Do I look like fucking Jimmy Saville?

Dear Dr Don
I am a big fan of yours, I have a picture of you by my bed, but my boyfreind says you look like Jimmy Saville with a moustache. I think you look like Vince Neil with a moustache. Do you like Bounty bars?
love!
Karen

I do like Bounty Bars, yes. Thank you. Thank your boyfriend. That’s three times now. Too many for one lifetime. I must kill myself now.

hey akiar just downloaded atd10 and its the bomb alotta GRIME! ur more recent mixtappes are alot different!
thomas

I am evolving, like Creationist Theory. Or “intelligent design”. That’s what they call it. Funny fuckers.

You’ve got a typo on your mixtape cover. It says “Girmo” instead of Gitmo.
Shit!

We’re all going to Girmo, Girmo.
Al Bastage

Sigh. I suck.

YESSSS! so now I have your email… not that im going to do a lot with it other than email you occaisionally to say bloody top job! Twas clones late 1 night on radio 1 that led me to you. One day would like to shake your hand so I can tell my grand kids (when my kids heve em, when ive had my kids…) keep it up. Ill make it to see you before the year is out and bring as many converts as poss. Long live the cult of the DON All the best.
Braddan.

Tell your Grand kids to stay away from the yellow snow. And to listen to Wu-Tang every day.

aite akira

new mixtape is beautifull. dj dropped gitmo! at the roxy last night felt good ont he dancefllor. is there any way of me getting hold of kick in the wonderwall as a single mp3 file?

one love
patrick!

There is a new version of that coming on the next one. And yeah there’ll be a single. Dude, it’s sick!

You have scared the bejeesus out of me. I will explain. I downloaded adt12 (It fucking kicks arse). Then look out of my north london window to see you cross the road. If I was a stalker I would be lazy fat bastard. Cheers for the tunes.
matt

If ate food I would be lazy fat bastard too. It’s OK.

OK mr So-called Don, I am starting to understand you now
Oasis sample? Check. Blur? Check. ELASTICA?!
Check.
You know who you are Akira? You’re the English Puffy.

Owch.

OI Akira. got some excellent proposition for you mate. probably very outlandish and ridiculously futile. BUT, nevertheless. here I am.

I am nick. you have been very kind enough to return my messages in the past. which is spectacular. It’s strange because when you’ve replied I kind of get a feeling not dissimilar to when a girl that I like replies to my messages, after I’ve been waiting a while. I’m just being honest.

SO urm. I am Nick John Henry of Leeds West Yorkshire, and am down on myspace as ‘rockroll/manjam’, great name I know. I am also deeply aware that you are probably a genius. its pretty well obvious. Be aware that I am probably one too. Also probably a comic genius as well.

LETS not beat around the bush. I think we should work together. not extensively. A week of writing, 2 weeks of relentless gigging. Nightly. Biblical Proportions. To be fair I have lots of friends in high places so if your worried about that. then. just don’t mate. its all dandy. I messaged you an entirely shorter and more condensed version of this earlier on myspace. but thought.

OH SHIT. I didn’t put a title/subject type jobby. Akira’s probably got a massively overflowing inbox and why will he pick out that blank-subject-faint-ghost of interest that I just sent him. Sure it would have been a hidden gem, but that chance of you mining it are slim. That’s when HEY I thought of this. Direct email with a, lets admit it, completely eye-catching and poetic subject. This cannot fail. Even if this inbox is exploding also. BOOM. Haha. A little inside joke there. Thought we could share that you know. Us being genius’ unall.

So Im thinking. Funk. Rock. Beats. Everything. I’ve already got jimmy Hendrix reincarnated. I just need modern Bob Dylan now. Then we’re set! Leeds will be on its knees mate!

Fuck it! The World Will!

Much Love Nick Henry, Fellow Genius.

Dear fellow genius
Thank you for your nice letter, it is always good to communicate with similarly amazing individuals. It is also good to make music with such folk. However, currently, I am in three bands, a solo project, I am producing a concept record, writing a television show, a new cartoon, I am designing a mask, some toys, a comic book, and a range of pyjamas. True storez. SO, as you can see, my cup overrunneth a little. But do send me noises to listen to, and don’t be angry with me for not ever doing anything straight away, as there are only so many hours in the day, and people keep emailing me saying they’re going to kill themselves. Check it out.

Dear Adam Jan Narkiewicz
Look, I can spell your real name, i bet most of your fans can’t, this is because I am serious, and I have loved your music since your first mixtape and your ep which had john the Baptist on it and the drinking song but I liked John the Baptist best because it was so honest and it still makes me cry sometimes, almost as much as the world, which is beating down on me like a big drum full of blood, you understand i know because you hear it too, bang bang! on your head, i know, i know.

look, I am 13 you see, and nonne of the people I go to school with care about the things we care about, they dont care about the future, they dont care about NOW, geneocide, they laugh at me when i bring it up in lessons. I read in an interview you said you used to fight in school every day, well I do too, every day, because I don’t keep my mouth shut when they tell me, and the teachers say it wouldn’t happen if I didn’t answer the other kids back, but why should I keep my mouth shit when I am only telling the truth?

But I am getting so tired you know, and I think maybe there is no point. Because by the time I am old enough to do anything, the ice caps will be gone and arnold swartschnegger will be president and we’ll all be in fucking camps anyway.

I wanted to thank you for the music, and for writing for me most days, and to say sorry for being weak.

Fiber

So, yeah, I did have fights every day in school. Till I was, 14, 15? 15, probably. Then it chilled out a bit. Serious, it’s not like things are mad easier now. I mean, in some ways they are… but look, I wasn’t thinking about genocide when I was 13. I was thinking about girls and pop music. And occasionally killing myself. Real! But I didn’t, I lived, which is difficult sometimes, but anything worthwhile is, and now I get to do all this stuff I really wanted to when I was little, and I get to acquire vague wisdom, and communicate with folks, and every day that passes I see more fucked up nastiness, I find out more horrible things… but then again, it works the other way too. You know, the most beautiful thing in the world is indescribable. So too is the ugliest. That’s how it is. And always was! But son, yeah a gang of phycopaths stole the US presidency, yeah, some fake-Christian freak jacked us over here, yeah genocide is happening all over and most people don’t care… but stuff is still awesome. Right out my front door there’s a tree full of blossom. Out my window, little kids are playing football. They are very noisy, in their joy. I am listening to Ghostface, who grew up in poverty and now slings together seemingly random words and paints the most vivid, gloriful pictures.

I am not about to say that everything will be OK in the end. But I do know that a load of stuff will most definitely be fucking ace, at some point. And that’s fucking plenty, you know.

Good afternoon
Any chance we could have more of your little brother’s poetry? I thought that last one was ace.
Cheers
Graham

Yeah, Ali is wicked. You can read his moidering nonsense at thesvenhunter.blogspot.com. He draws monsters too. It is in the BLOOD.

u drunk song just plain stupied id give it a 8

Fair.

Yeah, uh…

I’m from Michigan, and I like your stuff too.

We’re hardcore over here, we have Eminem and Kid Rock. (Actually, just kidding. We’re softie midwesterners.)

When your CD comes out, are you going on an inter-fucking-national tour? Could you? And could you play in Michigan?

Luke

GO MICHIGAN! GO MICHIGAN! I LOVE YOU MICHIGAN!

Hi. My Name is Gavin Stone. A 5,8 , Very white, High schooler,16, Maryland Guy. I love your music, I love to listen to it. I remember when i first heard it i thought, “wow this guy is really good” because it was the first time i heard something new. It was the Flash video of L.I.T.F. . Later on i started downloading your music because i thought this guy can make it far. Because out of all the music artist i know of, You akira the don, are my Favoirte. Keep on Rocking. Because you are the best.

Your Fan,
Gavin Stone

GO MARYLAND! GO MARYLAND! I LOVE YOU MARYLAND! Hmm, I am fickle.

Your mixtapes are ace and your blogs are cool - they help relieve the tedium of work for a precious few minutes each day. You need another mailbag issue soon.

I tried to put together a mix tape at the weekend but I quickly realised I had no idea what I was doing which was disappointing. I cobbled something together though and the results can be found here:

http://www.bravecaptain.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=2092&start=15

Critical response has been indifferent as zero people have downloaded it.

You should write some stuff on the bravecaptain messageboard, people love you on there.

I must work now.

Take care,

John

Man, if I went on messageboards, how would I have time to answer email and write songs and eat pasta once in a while? Hmm? Think on!

Get off Myspace and back to making music Man.
Anyway, the new mixtape is kicking, big up. Yo man, you is a sick bastard… in a good way though.
Anyway im a teacher and im allways telling my south london kids to check out akirathedon.com cos that man is the bomb…some of em even have you on their ipods and stuff… teaching…more like spreding the good news…Akira is THE DON. Anyway off myspace and back to work pls? Atd13? mmm

Peace H

See, that sort of thing causes me worry. What if I am wrong? Hitler thought he was right!

I joke. Course I am right, Teach away! ATD13 soon enough!

i missed that csi episode, i would have loved to see that i heard on the radio today that there is some kind of super rabit the size of a dog and as smart as a yeti terrorizing the english countryside. is that true? maybe i shouldnt believe every news report that comes on asfter a Disturbed song. or maybe it’s evolution.

Evolution? Lies! Lies invented by the devil to trick us into not believing that the Bible is LITERAL! Check it out!

Look prick, stop taking the piss out of creationists and mormons and scientologoists, who do you fucking think you are anyway, jesus or something? You are a mean person, Adam, and you will get your comeuppance, don’t you worry, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, and you, short arse, will fall like a sack of bricks from the top of that podium you’ve built for yourself, and I will stamp on your fucking head.
Have a nice day
THE FUTURE

Cheers!

If you’ll recall, I was very drunk on Thursday night. This, children, is what I do when I am very drunk.

Well, one of the things. Cheers Alex!

Rah, that would be the 18 year old Zef then.

I am still amazed he’s 18. I am also amazed by how he managed to look 13 up until, like, five weeks ago, when he suddenly aged five years. It is very odd, although in fitting with his entirely charmed existence.

He tells me today he’s started rapping again. Uh oh.

Did I tell you, I was woken up last night by the horrible acid burney pain in my belly, and denied further sleep by the horrorful same until daylight? True storez. I still made it to the gym this after though. Me and Jeres were the buff tings of that particular ball. All the girls were checking us out. Bear in mind that I broke my eyeballs and am wearing glasses held together by sticky tape. That’s how gangsta I am.

Yo, they played BOOM! on XFM last night. Big up ETM! If you’re lucky, we’ll play that live on Friday.

Here’s some fun news:

Microsoft has written and is currently campaigning for spyware legislation that may end up giving software companies free reign over consumers’ computers, according to the Oklahoma Gazette.

Proponents of the bill claim that it will protect computer users from spyware and hackers. However, privacy experts are criticizing the bill because they argue that it will give software companies the legal authority to take control over people’s computers and act like Big Brother.

I have been hammered two days in a row. Hammered in Camden, in fact. Hammered in Camden, in Coco. It is shocking. Seems to have damaged my eye worse than usual. The bugger hurts, yo. Still. I had a nice night. Went to The Purple Turtle to see Marv The Marsh and Jack Nimble with the rest of the Why Lout? fam, save Pixel - wherefore art though Pixel? Come home all is forgiven! And, yeah, that was ace. Marv’s new songs are awesome, especially the one about his brother and the one about his shit jobs. I wanna do a remix of both of them, specially the brothers one though. Marv’s is about how he needs to beat his brother up. Mine will be different. I love my brothers. They’re ace. It was little Zef’s birthday yesterday. He was 18! 18! Not so little no more, I guess. He’s got a girlfriend and a skin head and everything. It is kind of upsetting.

I hooked up with my boy Goblin Baz and his Goblin Bride To Be after that, and we went to see The Boyfriends play the G Bar, which used to be the O Bar, or something. It is red now, and has Scarface paintings everywhere. It is still pretty shit. The Boyfriends were surprisingly ace though. I only went to laugh at my mate Gay Barnett, who plays bass for them. Whaddyou mean, they’ve got, like, five huge pop songs? Shocks, shocks. You should probably read Barnett’s tour diary from last week, when they supported Morrissey round Europe. It is funny.

After that we went to bloody Coco, but it was OK. I bumped into my old friend Gem, of whom I am very proud - She’s all grown up now and manages a shop! I also suffered the evil of Young Tom, and met lots of safe kids who love Thanks For All The AIDS. No one can dance in there. Still.

A few of you have been emailing complaining about my horribly out of date press page. This is fair. I need to sit my ass down and sort it properly, as there are a great number of articles to stick up, but in the meantime, here’s a few bits from this week:

A PlayLouder football interview with me and lots of other people. The best bit is when they ask Martin Carr “what would you do to make football better?”

Martin says, “Shoot all the players in the face.”

What else. An interview with me on Boobytrap’s site about holidays and burglary.

Oh yeah, an amusing interview I did with UK Dynasty wherein they complained I use too many long words. Waste!

Apparently the interview I did for Kruger’s new interview is shocks, but I haven’t seen it yet. It concerns the role of the female in horror movies. They’re all extended rape metaphors, essentially. Right? Right.

[The Boyfriends] Oh, and my favourite newspaper (haha) The Guardian today calls me “weird, wonderful and utterly compelling”, in a review of that gig we did the other night in Bumden. I should, however, mention, that it was written by Sophie Heawood, who i lived with for a while. Most people wouldn’t tell you that. They’d be like, wow, the Guardian loves me, I am so cool, nothing to do with the fact I know the writer, oh no. I mean, I don’t doubt that Sophie thinks I’m weird, wonderful, and compelling. I am. But I think we should all be real about these things.

GET ME?

Wow, I am well loving Green Day today. Trey is coming over with weed and whiskey, and we are going to make bootlegs. It’s nearly seven o clock, and its still sunny outside. Fucka bloodeye. Life is beautiful.

This is a poem my little brother Alex wrote when he was 15 or something. It is called

Wine not blood

Isn’t the barmaid lovely?
With her unwound cassette ribbon curls
And her cheeky wink
And watered-down drinks
From the taps in the White Pike Tavern.

She giggles like a schoolgirl
And fights like a boxer
And once a month the old man locks her in the cellar
And hangs pictures on the wall of the Second World War
And hangs fishing nets on the feeling

But never speaks of how he’s feeling
And she takes them down when he lets her out
And I’ve seen them argue
But she never shouts
And isn’t she ever so lovely?
With her tousled tresses and gypsy dresses
And her penchant for Queen’s Greatest Hits.

Perhaps her only fault is she puts too much salt
On the chips in the White Pike Tavern.
Because she knows what makes us thirsty
And she swears she’s not a day past thirty
And the old man says that she is his wife
But she must be his daughter
It just isn’t right
And she sometimes wears those earrings I bought her
And I know when I saw her washing her hands
It was wine not blood
As rain soaked my hood
That ran down the sink
As I stood in the car park in the puddles on the tarmac
And she didn’t see me looking
And although I’ve heard nothing
Of the men who are missing
Who I saw her kissing
I’m not scared
They could have gone anywhere
So I’ll try not to stare
At the beautiful barmaid in the White Pike Tavern
Because I have an ‘overactive imagination’.

So I played Camden Crawl last night, yo. It was pretty rah. Pritty, pritty rah. Apparently my managers were concerned that I was too drunk, and one of them tried to sober me up with pizza prior to the show, but the pizza had so much chili in it my nose nearly imploded and I thought I might never rap again. Ho ho.

But, yeah, rah. I did a bunch of interviews in the afternoon, had some civilised wine drinking up Primrose Hill, and ran into loads of my peoples whom I haven’t seen in a while, like Guy 80s Matchbox and Evil Lorry and Barry The Tramp and Lilly, and drank lots of nice whiskey. And argued with my bank, who decided for no good reason to remove my overdraft. Assholes.

Lethal B was on before us, and he was fucking ace. Dude is mad loud. Him and Ozzy B did ‘Oi!’, that was highlight. I like his Rakes remix, but I;m not sure about that tune he’s done with Babyshambles. This grindie thing is seeming a bit long and gimmicky already. (Says me leading the britop revival).

Anyway, we nearly had a major disaster, as my stupid keyboard decided to spaz out and not work just before we went on, but then it, did, and we played, and were amazing, and you lot who came were amazing, and Why Lout? came on and did ‘Boom’… and were amazing, and then I wrote on bits of paper and arms and got called amazing and shit and span out a bit, while Supergrass played ‘Caught By The Fuzz’, and all their other records that weren’t as good as ‘Caught By The Fuzz’, and people tried to get me to get them cocaine for “Jude Law’s ex” in return for an invite to their Primrose Hill party, and I really must be lame, because I didn’t have anything to do with it. What I must have missed out on! I so always wanted to bum Danny Goffey!

Jokes. Supergrass had to borrow Jeres’ leads, which was a weird turn around, and Rhys Ifans chatted Mary up, and after all that Martin went home with my stuff cos he’s a gent and a grown up, and this dude who’s been myspacing me told me he thought I was gonna be “hench”, and was in fact “a munchkin” which is true, and two of my little brother Ali’s mates turned up, expressing shock at the recent acquisition by little brother Zef of a lady, and I chatted to lots of safe people many of whom had come from all over the country to see me specially, which was good of them, and we went to some parties, and I lost Jeres and Trey and Mary, and caused trouble with Leonie and got really drunk. When we got to the weird Vippey upstars room in Coco Wade was DJing - first song we hear is Elastica’s Connection, which is more of that collective consciousness serendippyness, and Leonie knocked a pint all over the mixing desk, which blew it up. Transpires the pint glass was full of Wade’s piss. CLASS!!! Wade then played the music from Requiem For A Dream, and everybody went really weird, fled the dancefloor, and some bouncer lady got hardcore lunatic and booted us all out. I have no idea why.

A little while later I found myself on a balcony with various Towers Of Londons and Libertines and some other indie people whose records I have avoided. For some reason I slapped Carl Barrat and headbutted Donny Tourette. It was affectionate, though. Leonie stole fags, cos Leonie’s gangsta. It should be noted, nobody who goes to Coco can dance. This is a fact. Every time I’ve been there, since it rebranded, and became NMEland, noone can dace. They swarm, they shuffle, but they cannot dance for shit, it is mega weird.

I tasted of Camden when I woke up this morning. And do you know, when I got home, at 6am, I was really upset. Really! And for what reason? No good reason at all! Drink is very bad, kids. I am not going to have any more, until about 9pm tonight. I am going to see Marv The Marsh at The Purple Turtle. Oh shit! Camden two nights in a row!

Whaddya mean, ATD12 had been online just over 11 hours, and just over 2000 people had downloaded it?

No shit. Maybe that is small for YOU, but I think that is big. 11 hours! ATD10’s done 97,513 so far. ATD11 37,227. Wait till they give me billboards, bubba. SON! Are you MAD!

Yo, big up all my people pasting banners on their shit. That is hardcore. Fuck a street team. Zef’s gonna make some banners so dope even people who hate my pink ass’ll want them on their shit, just because they;re so FLY! Fly like KITES! SON!

Excuse me. I have been to the gym two days in a row. That’s right. I am one of those people that has a Gym membership card. Really. Four years ago, I’d have spat at me, probably. Laughed in my face, then fallen over on some sick. So it goes son. Sorry, lad. Things done changed round hereabouts.

But not too much. We’re playing a gig tonight, in Camden. With Lethal B. And another band, whose name shall remain a mystery, for reasons of national security. Let us just say, um… Last time I saw them they were headlining a festival.

OK, that;s enough of me for tonight. I am tired. My tits ache. My thighs ache. I;m a watch a Curb then die. Hey! We’re having another letters page here at DONDOTCOM tomorrow. Geddin.

Oh, sorry, that picture there? That’s Madison and a monkey. She sent me a song earlier. It is amazing. It is so amazing. You know sometimes you want to write about something, and you put it off, because of the world, because of what people think, because it’s too RAW… Yeah?

She does not. Madison inspires me, yo. And she made me cry once. Just looking at her. She was singing. Singing reality. Serious.

So, I am still awake, and about to go to the gym, WEIRD IDEA, I haven’t been to a gym since New York, where I had a trainer called Taj who made me puke. No I am going to go to one in Stoke Newington with my boy Jeres, The Son Of King Rebel, who probably smells of puke cos he is a DRUNKIST.

Haha, I am mean. It seems that I have been accusing Jeres of being a drunk for 6 years now, and he has been accusing me of being an asshole and a hypocrite, and I think we are probably both right. But I do love him, even if he does start throwing popcorn around my house and screaming Justin Hawkins impressions at the top of his lungs at 3 in the morning and knocking everything over, and anyway, when you think about it, those aren’t really such dreadful things for a person to do. And even if they were, what slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune are they to suffer in return for a pal such as he? Crappy little ones! Look at him! He is amazing.

A great many of you have been emailing and myspacing me all day about how dope ATD12 is, which is right, of course - it rules! And you are very clever for noticing. But the cleverest amongst you noticed that the sleeve was easily the dopest one ever! And you can thank Soraya, who took the photos, for that, and of course me, for making them into sleeves.

Anyway, Zef made a banner, and had a clever idea of making it so that if you want you can stick it on your myspaceything or your website - (I tried to stick it here but it bust my site, so you’ll have to cop it from Murdoch) - so we put that up a few hours ago, and I’ve since had a few hundred people grab the mixtape as a result, which is quite barmy. This means that Dear Drunken Jeres is now a world famous cult figure adorning webpages from Idaho to Israel, which is bad news for concerned parents everywhere.

And while there has been a lot of love today, I am saddened to hear from 16 year old Michigan resident The Ninja You Don’t Yet Know, that I caused him grief today. All the way from Stokey!

“i was listening to you in school and got made fun of lol i thought it was funny oh well,” wrote he. Shocks. I hope you Ninjaed them, Ninja. Pow!

But, really, fuck that. I remember being dissed at school for listening to Carter and Nirvana and Run DMC and Aerosmith and Alice Cooper, now look at me! I have a neck tattoo and no day job and girls smile at me on the high street. THE WORLD IS YOURS!

Incidentally, Michigan is creeping up on Baltimore in the Bizarrely Disproportionate Amount Of People Who Like My Records In A Single American Area chart. Watch out.

So, The Guardian reports today that our sexual attitudes are completely different now to 15 years ago, and we are in a world that is saturated with pornography. Part of this they blame on the interweb - in my day you had to walk 6 miles to a newsagent that didn’t know your parents and steal a Sunday Sport if you were curious, now you just type “bumsex” into Limewire. Not even that - I searched Family Guy earlier, and got, amongst other things, “Indian Hindu Bitch discredits her family getting fucked by white guy on film Ghandi porn,” “Melanie and Tawnee Stone get each other so hot they suck off their brother (incest all in the family),” and “Mom Teaches Daughter How To Suck Cock”.

Which one could possibly get in a huff about, if one wasn’t entirely desensitised by the daily visage of the magazine rack, all advertisements that aren’t for stairlifts, television in general, and, well, pretty much everything on sale, apart from, like, bog roll. They leave that for fucking up puppies. And have you seen MySpace? No, I do not blame the internet for turning 6 year olds into sluts. I blame men in suits with fractals and pie charts and clip on ties and dead eyed daughteres they were pimping from birth. Handlers, they call them. They will burn in a hell of their own making.

I crack me up. Ho ho! What a mad place we find ourselves in. Men should be running around like they won the lottery, but they look like someone cut a hole in their nutsack and pissed in their balls while they were asleep. Men always had it “this good”. But now they don’t even have to try. This is why they’re all getting tit implants and jaw restructuring and injecting their eyeballs with steroids and climbing eastern mountains. They are lost.

Me, I’m joining a gym, and I quit smoking again. I sweat my wifebeater through on the machines and wrote a song about pornography inside my head. I replied to over three hundred messages today.

Birmingham and the Baggies are to be relegated, it seems. Back where they belong. It is sad, but it is just. Anyway. I gotta go to bed. Bear in mind I have been up since yesterday, so if I don’t make enough sense, you know why. I KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Oh, and all my love to my peoples Spiky and Amy in New York, who nearly died in an automobile yesterday, but did not. I LOVE YOU BOTH! And I miss you a lot.

It works!

It works!

It works!

go get it!

And get your seperate MP3 “singles” (as in, they are singular):

The Elastica sampling BOOM! (Smash Stuff) ft. Why Lout?.

And the Blur ripping Gitmo! ft. Narstie.

Holla!

Tracklisting:
Akira The Don ft Why Lout? - BOOM! (Smash Stuff)
Chamillionaire - Riding Dirty
More Fire Crew - Oi
Prince - Lolita
Ghostface - Be Easy
Green Lantern ft DPZ, Immortal Technique & Saigon - Impeach The President
Riz - Post 911 Blues
Akira The Don - Charlie
Akira The Don ft Narstie - Gitmo!
Akira The Don ft Big Pun & Fat Joe - I Heart Twins
Untitled Actuallity
Adam Green - No Legs
Fireworks - Hold It Down
Narstie - Bak
Anth Latue - Who’s Next
Mobb Deep ft 50 Cent - Pearly Gates
Akira The Don ft Marv The Marsh - Oobie Doo **
Cam’ron - D Rugs
Bloc Party - Positive Tension (Statik Remix Feat. Flirta D)
The Streets ft Proffesor Green - When You Wasn’t Famous Remix
Leo - Love Custard
Akira The Don ft J-Love & Serge Gansbourgh - Bless ***
Swine ft Akira The Don - Melancholy Trolley Dolly
Tricky - Black Steel
Piranha Deathray - Bones

Well, it’s supposed to be working. It’s up. The “singles” - The Elastica sampling BOOM! (Smash Stuff) ft. Why Lout? is working. The Blur ripping Gitmo! ft. Narstie is working. Yet click ATD12, and it’s being weird. I don’t know why. Keep trying, it’ll sort shortly, one hopes.

Oh God I have been up all night doing this fucking mixtape and my PC just died and shit. ARGH!

Cross your fingers for me, I am having a panick.

My band, The Women, and I rehearsed in Stoke Newington this Zombie Deity Day evening. We were joined by Why Lout?, who appear on a new composition of mine, which will be unveiled live this coming Thursday, at Camden’s Dublin Castle, as part of the Camden Crawl. I think it is fitting that this particular song be born there. You will no doubt concur, when you hear it tomorrow, on ATD12.

I don’t know what time that mixtape will be live, by the way. Probably late. There is a lot to do still. It is going to be the best thing I have yet done, you see. I hope. I try.

You know.

I know Murdoch bought MySpace, I know its ugly, I know its distills us to surface, I know it’s vain, I know it’s a Trojan Horse… but it is still kind of amazing. It is the only website that ever made me cry. Because people message me, and sometimes I will look at their pages, and I read their hopes and dreams, and those of their fiends, and it is beautiful.

A 14 year old girl from Michigan in the US of A called Jorgie just left the following message on my page:

“ONE OF MY BUDS TOLD ME 2 ADD U HE SAYS UR HIS IDOL, ANYWAY HE HAS A SONG OF URS ON HIS PROFILE AND EVERYTHING!”

The lad in question messaged me at the same time asking if I was going to come and play in his hometown. I hope I get to.

But I read Jorjie’s page, and in the “about me” section, she’d written the following:

“MY FULL NAME IS JORDAN RAE GEE. I AM FEMALE 14 YEAR OLD GIRL FROM ALMA. I LOVE TO LISTEN TO MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. I HAVE ANNOYING TWIN BROTHER. WHO IS PRETTY MUCH A FAG. BUT IM NOT GOING TO GET OFF TOPIC. I AM A PRETTY GOOD RUNNER AND MADE VARSITY THIS YEAR WHICH IS PRETTY GOOD FOR A FRESHMAN. I AM REALLY IN TO SPORTS BUT NOT OBSESSED. I LOVE HANGING OUT WITH FRIENDS AT THE BOWLING ALLEY OR AT THE MOVIES. MY FAVORITE COLOR IS PINK. I HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS LIKE; MARY, AUTUMN, ELLEN, ARI, BOVEE, SHAELYN, HEATHER…….BY THE WAY IM SINGLE JUST GOT DUMPED!YEAH IT SUCKED. ANYWAY IM TRYING TO GET GOOD GRADES SO THAT I DON’T GET KICKED OFF THE TRACK TEAM. ITS SPRING BREAK WRITE NOW AND IM HANGING OUT WITH AUTUMN. I PRETTY MUCH HATE ALL MY TEACHERS. I AM ABOUT TO SHOOT MY BROTHER WITH AN AIRSOFT GUN. I THINK ILL PROUBLY END UP SMOTHERING HIM IN HIS SLEEP SOMETIME. HOLY SHIT! MOTHER FUCK! MY BROTHER AND HIS FRIEND PETERMAN JUST CAUSED A FOREST FIRE! NOT EVEN JOKING THE FIRE DEPARTMENT ALMOST CAME. I WAS ABOUT TO CALL SMOKEY. MY DREAM FOR WHEN I AM OLDER IS TO BE AN ARCHITECT. I HAVE HAD THAT DREAM FOR A WHILE NOW. MY FAVORITE NUMBER IS 5 OR 13. EVEN THOUGH EVERYONE SAYS ITS UNLUCKY IVE HAD THE MOST GOOD LUCK WITH IT. MY FAVORITE CANDY IS SOUR PATCH KIDS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. MY JERKOFF BOYFRIEND JUST BROKE UP WITH ME, IM PRETTY SURE HE WAS CHEETING ON ME THOUGH. MY NICKNAME IS JORGIE BRILLIANTLY GIVEN TO ME BY AUTUMN COX. I HAVE A SISTER NAMED KELLY WHO I PRETTY MUCH NEVER SEE. SHE HAS DAUGHTER NOW AND ANOTHER ONE ON THE WAY. I AM A GEMINI WHICH IS REALLY WEIRD BECAUSE THAT IS THE SIGN OF THE TWINS AND I AM A TWIN. MY BIRTHSTONE IS AN EMERALD BUT I DON’T LIKE ,SO ON MY CLASS RING I GOT A AQUAMARINE COLORED STONE. OH YEAH BY THE WAY I GOT MY VARSITY JACKET AND ITS PRETTY SWEET. I LIKE CAKE. MY HAIR COLOR IS BLONDISH, AND I HAVE HAZEL EYES. BUT I WEAR GLASSES, AND IM GETTING CONTACT SOON. PETERMAN PRETTY MUCH LIVES WITH US HE IS OVER EVERY WEEKEND. I AM GOING TO TRAVERSE CITY THIS WEEKEND TO MEET UP WITH ONE OF MY FRIENDS MARY POPPINS THATS NOT HER REAL NAME BUT THATS WHAT SOME PEOPLE CALL HER. OH YES AND I LOVE TO GO SNOWBOARDING. P.S. IF YOU SNOWBOARD TAKE MY ADVICE ON MY HEADLINE! BE GOOD KIDS( IF IT HURTS STAY DOWN). DONT DO ANYTHING I WOULDN’T DO!”

And, for no decent reason, that made me cry.

Then I looked at my little brother Zef’s page, and he’d posted this picture to your right. Underneath he’d written, “she is the love of my zeffy life”. This also made me cry.

BLUB!

It is easy to forget about people being people, people having dreams, people being in love, people being people. Wrapped in the bubble of your head. Forgetting we are not apart at all.

This kid to your right left a message on my page, “yo dude waz up!” He’s a 13 year old resident of Oregon, USA. He’s got my song, CLONES on his page. Underneath that picture of him, he’s written “me and my 12gage shotgun”. There’s another picture of a baby. Underneath it says “my awsome cuzen nathen hes allmost awsomer then me!!” Under another picture of himself, he’s written, “my dorkey 13 year old me..i cant w8t till im atlest 18.” ANother of a gun, underwritten, ” my awsome star380″. And another picture, of his dead mother. It killed me.

I am a big gaylord,yes?

Hey yo, I bought an MP3 today. BOUGHT! True storezs. First time ever. This is because I couldn’t find it on Limewire. It was the Doctor and Bearman remix of The Streets’ When You Wasn’t Famous. It looked amazing on paper. It cost £1.50 - I sent a text message to a number, they sent back a number, I typed it on a webpage, and got an MP3. But it wasn’t an MP3. It was a Windows Media file. And once it had downloaded, it wouldn’t play in Winamp, and I had to download a licence for it. This took ages and annoyed me somewhat. And after all that, the song was crap! Crap! Bearman totally let me down! Ga-DANG! Fuck that for a game of Tetris.

Hmm. I have a text file, on which I jot things to include in my next post, as I traverse the internet. Last night I was drunk, so I don’t know why I wrote, “Big up the_caitiff who seems to be going through some shit”. But I did. It says IMPORTANT next to it. I don’t know who the_caitiff is. But, yeah, big up. Drunk me meant it. Sober me doesn’t remember why. This says a lot. I am sorry.

Last nigyht, I remebered that the hospital in Liverpool they took me to to cut apart my penis when I was eight had a painting of Roy Castle on the wall.

Why in the name of all that you call holy would that occur to me? What else comes back when I am drunk, that would be instantly lost again, were it not for late night text messages?

Oh yeah. According to pink wrestling drunkard thief of oranges Charlotte (the text file again), the guys in Pronto Pizza, my local pizza place (duh), were watching gay porn the other night. Leather pants and strap-ons and all sorts. She told them to get a room and they said something about going out back. I don’t know what the world is coming to.

Still, it is good in my ‘hood. I went to the newsagent to buy a bagguette yesterday and they’d run out. Noticing my sadness, the man behind the counter said if I came back in 20 minutes they’d have baked me one specially. And lo, they did! Small mercies make for a wonderful life, it is truth and reality, my friend.

Speaking of which, my labelmate (oh the hilarity) Eminem has a relatively new Monty Python inspired website design at eminem.com, which, aside from songs and animations and self depreciating humour, contains an entirely bizarre Smiths reference. Mouseover a record on one page, and it says “reissue reissue repackage reevaluate the songs please them please them bleaurgh!” Wot? That is fucking mad. And this isn’t anything to do with me, before you ask. Me? I am nothing! A talented, handsome, occasionally confused, usually unthinking, mildly retarded, tangle-haired, wide-eyed, blood-filled, lovefull, baleful, awe-full, mournful, joyfull nobody, and I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hey, the amazing Piranha Deathray’s debut single is out today. Go to their shitty website, they should help you get it. It is great. I am going to see them play a gig today. Come! I will hold your hand. We can clink glasses, like brothers, like sailors, like babies.

I leave you with a poem. It was left for me, on my computer, yesterday. So I leave it for you. That’s how it works.

Get Drunk

Always be drunk.
That’s it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time’s horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock, ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
“Time to get drunk!
Don’t be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!”

Charles Baudelaire

OK, this song is officially FUCKED. It is far too good. Swear down. If I wasn’t me, and I heard this, I’d kill myself. WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT? It’s over. Shut up.

Whaddyamean, I been on holiday since Thursday? Real. Spent most of it in bee ee dee. Fucking luxury, baby. Somehow I missed most of the sleep bit. I got madass redeye and a head like the box of cables that langushes terrubly under my desk. Anyone know how how to stop one’s mad-long bleach-ed hair turning into knots after two days of such business? I spent just under half an hour with a comb and a can of spray condioner earlier and all it gave me was a fucking headache. My shit is still twisted, yo. Like, OW.

Ah, rah, I can hardly moan though. It’s Spring, I am amazing at making noises, and the flesh is weak. Holiday’s over and I am busting my ass off to get you this mixtape to you on Monday. No I did not go to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers after party and link Niles Barklays. I am SERIOUS ABOUT THIS SHIT, bubba, don’t you ever forget it.

Big up baby bro Zef, been keeping it loved up in Wales. Have some images. Some of what’s been going on at Don Studios over the past week.

Jack Nimble is talking about guns

The debut of Dego!

Raya warms up a haiyuken

Narstie loves his spliff. OddKidd loves XXL.

HISTORY! THE MEETING OF THE MINDS! Serious.

Swine keep it seriously gangsta

Whaddaya mean, I had Marvin The Martian, Dego Brown and Jack Nimble from the Why Lout? crew in DON STUDIOS today, and we made a record potentially bigger than the tunes I did with Narstie yesterday, which are potentially the biggest tunes I’ve done? Whaddya mean it’s Dego’s rapping debut?

SNIPED!

Hello baby. I am having a nice time in DON STUDIOS making a song with Why Lout? It is distinctly rah.

Observe: The song writing process.

“It’s a conceit of liberalism to believe knowledge is power, and it’s a deceit of the “Information Age” to mistake information for knowledge. Gone missing, for the greater part, is wisdom. Find that, and maybe we find our power.”
Jeff Wells

“You know what I think it is, it’s the bleedin’ obvious. That’s what magic is, it’s just becoming aware of the absolute obvious. And suddenly it all becomes magic, it’s just like when you take acid, everything becomes significant. Magic makes everything significant. And it gives meaning to everything, it enriches everything, so I want to work with that. It’s like a drug, it’s better than that, it enriches the world, we can peer into the rest of our lives. Our bodies make huge armies of antibodies that never really do anything. And we don’t even think about what we’re doing, these huge machines that we move around in, that we operate in, and my god, that’s nothing but real magic. And once you become aware of it, you pay for the Understanding, you make the Understanding applicable.”
Grant Morrison

I am so the kiss of death. After not really feeling most of the last Streets album, it does the unexpected and goes huge, birthing a number one and everything. This one comes along, Martin plays it me on an iPod in a pub, I go mad - this record is amazing. Really. Really really. I am stunned. It is brilliant. I am still excited about buying a proper copy of it - the sleeve looks ace. Putting a palm tree on that lighter has made my least favourite band logo my new favourite.

But rumblings on the streets (and I mean the cobbled streets, the high streets, the posh streets, not the streets - not the roads - its crap. Grauniad wankers say its crap. Ex-ememeehacks who write for broadsheets say its crap. Bloggers who haven’t heard it say it’s crap. “Haters”, as So Solid called them, say its crap.

They say he’s moaning about being famous. He’s not! he’s telling the truth! He’s spilling the beans! He’s lifting the curtain! Shopping the charade! And yes, there are those that would rather we believe winning Pop Idol will save us, or whatever. But they are scum. The same swine who, over a number of generations, convinced a whole country that power and money are to worship above all… who are now trying to convince the rest of the world. What do these fools know anyway? Of use? Nothing! Listen to me! I know all! Or at least the bits you need to know. In relation to the Streets’ album. It’s ace! GoshDARNIT!

Oh, in addition to that list I posted last month, I remembered a few other bands I used to really like - Gay Dad, and Ultrasound.

Hmm.

Yahoo are in on the Nuke Iran Plans now. I recall writing about this a year ago and getting an inbox full of poopooing. Perhaps I am in the midst of a really long, really stupid dream. I could be.

And so, my dear, could you.

Narstie doing overs yo. Peep the science of genius. Rah!

RIP Proof, you talented, misunderstood, large toothed bastard.

Did you see Eminem’s Toy Soldiers video? Proof got shot in that. Gross.

Martin messaged me the other day.

“See them gospels they’ve unearthed and translated?

Ah..”

Ho ho.

Adam Green is back! I haven’t heard the album, but I am told it is full of strings, so I hope it is like his second one, which was amazing, rather than the third, which was OK.

One of the songs is called Drugs

“Yeah, the reason I wrote ‘Drugs’ is because I like drugs,” he told PlayLouder. “You know?”

That guy up there? A dude called Mango Charlie sent it me via MySpace.

“easy akira, you’re playing in cardiff soon where i live some times, which is banging. this fella is called hard gay, he is a japanese super hero who saves the world by being REALLy hard and REALLY gay, i thought you might enjoy.” I do!

I am playing the Escape festival in Swansea in June you know. So are GLC. Interviewed recently about the thing, Billy Webb was asked who else he was looking forward to seeing.

“definitely gonna checkout akira the don who is an old acquaintance of the chain,” said he, “planet pendulum, hype and most of the Raveology tent, i think thats where the best time’ll be for the dreamscape-white glove-rave will never die crowd.”

Rah! I shall convince Xain to produce me and Method Man’s duo LP.

Sorry, I might have just made a record bigger than CLONES.

Oops!

I awoke this morning with Reel Around The Fountain by The Smiths in my brain. Around, and around it looped, until, well, until I downloaded it it (it is quicker to download than to find records one owns nowadays), and now the little section that was looping has been joined by the rest of the song, and I can get on with my life.

It went:

I dreamt about you last night
And I fell out of bed twice
You can pin and mount me like a butterfly
But “take me to the haven of your bed”
Was something that you never said
Two lumps, please
You’re the bee’s knees
But so am I

Fifteen minutes with you
Oh, I wouldn’t say no
Oh, people see no worth in you
Oh, but I do.
Fifteen minutes with you
Oh, no, I wouldn’t say no
Oh, people see no worth in you
I do.

Dreams were vivid last night, but they are gone now. My head is different to how it used to be, you know.

Ahoy! The park then, now, for me.

The park, for now, is free.

http://www.saveparliament.org.uk/

And

“The media’s alleged embracing of artists and stories depicting people of color in a derogatory manner has become a hot-topic issue with media watchdog groups and prominent entertainment commentators alike.

“We will get to the bottom of this,” Sharpton continued, “and heads will roll. Now that their practices of propaganda are common knowledge even Americans with limited political awareness will demand change.”

Fox Views Dot Con

And, yeah, Bush authorised the leak. (And I’m talking about the Valerie Plane case, not the levees. Could have been either, I know.)

A Ferrari crashes into Scott Storch’s house. Commentry from Busta Buss. HAW!

So I was thinking, what with all this bird flu get your ass vaccinated we just remade the plague didn’t you hear bullshit… where did they tell us Foot And Mouth came from?

I bet it is crazy relevant. Answers on a postcard. So. Today I watched The Sopranos and ate pasta and wrote another song. NOT MY BEAT! Dego’s beat. It is quite liberating writing to other folks’ music. This one’s about how ace I am. I finally did it! Enough of this self-deprecatory bullshit. I am fucking wicked, and that is just plain FACT. Every other rapper in the world has at least three albums worth of material about how ace they are (apart from certain grime emcees I could mention, who have eight bars about how great they are, and nothing else, which they repeat as nauseam every time their mams let them out of their houses). And they all suck! So I should have at least one song. Fuck it, I should have fifty. Come off it! Look at me! I rule! Fuck that! I take myself for fucking granted, really, I do.

You better not, bebbeh. Cos I might not hang around forever. I got stuff to DO! And it might not have to involve you. Catch me in a submarine or some shit, communicating with w(h)ales (?). You can’t blog underwater, not so far as I know.

Boop.

Boop.

Boop.

I just finished reading my old friend Gwilym’s script, which was quite a terrifying experience. Most of the characters seem to be based on people we went to school with. It’s kind of like Martin Amis’ Dead Babies, but starring upper-working-class and lower middle class Welsh people, without all the hardcore pornography and the expressionism and the grotesque dwarf.

Actually, I was in it for about a paragraph, as a “hip-hop Jesus” called Mikey (ah-HA!). Crushingly two dimensional, I thought, and depressingly accurate. Still, I could have been one of the girls. Oh dear lord, how glad I am not to be a girl. Aside from all the periods and the objectification and the Magazine Rack, you have to put up with your portrayal in pretty much all movies being written by men. And what do they know? Nothing! They are far to busy suffering the indignity of being men.

Here’s a thing though - I have been making my living from publishing my own warped portrayals of my friends, and my “reality”, for five years now, and have not once seriously considered how my subjects might feel about their depictions. Just like I didn’t give a shit when I wrote unsuitable stories about my school friends in primary school and got publicly humiliated by Miss Roberts for my trouble on a weekly basis.

Gwilym, it should be noted, fucking loved school. I fucking hated it. So much I left it as soon as I could, which was in ‘96, post GCSE. It was all over before they started though, really. I missed one because I was living in a tent in Beaumaris woods and failed to wake up in time. I was nearly refused entrance to another - by the tragically named Mr Dunt - for bic-ing my head. I remember very little of any of it, probably because the mind blocks out painful and traumatic occurrences, so that one can have some vaguely decent self-image and not die every three seconds. No, I hated school. I would not wish such a horrible thing on anybody.

So, as I tore across the midlands in search of what I’d read about in music magazines, Gwilym and my school chums did A Levels, and found themselves, with the stupider, poorer, and rowdier children gone, to be kings of the playground. When I knew them, they were virgins, they rolled about in the mud at break times, they dragged each other about the place by shirt cuffs and hair, threw shoes in trees, fought, they sniffed each others bottoms. In the last two years of school, they got laid, took drugs, formed sexual relationships, became “cool”. I missed all of that. I didn’t see them again properly until last Summer, by which point I was a Z list pop star and had grown quite bored of drugs.

Now I see a few of them quite a lot. It is almost as if we weren’t apart for seven years.

But we we were.

We never took drugs together. We never talked about girls, in that way, together. We never grew up together. We were small, then we were big. The inbetween is a mystery. It is vague, shadowy, ghostville.

So what? you shrug.

And you are right.

[proof] So, I saw that episode of CSI with my song in it. It was amazing! My song being on a huge American TV show that is, not the show. The show was a bit rubbish. Guess what was going on when they played CLONES? They were in a strip club! HA! LA styled lady dolls wiggling out of time to that gogdamned song! I heard me rap “I can’t stand to see this/ heinous/ monument to the penis” as one young lady mashed her pelvis up a steel rod. I was quite awed. It wasn’t irony, but it was… Something…

I should probably note that the gig was quite fantastic - I felt entirely in control throughout, which was almost weird. Mary got her stuff nicked again. She spoke to the thief on the phone (he on hers, she on a friends). When he discovered that she’d been part of the entertainment that night he came over all sorry, and said he’d meet her, and give it back, but he didn’t, of course. She forgave him because she’s a Christian. She lost her money, credit cards, personal effects, make up, telephone, iPod, but she doesn’t even mind anymore. It’s just her Mother that’s in bits. Which is quite understandable. All this time alive, all this acquired knowledge, wisdom, faith, hope. Children. And some junky can steal a bag and one’s ultimate, crushing powerlessness in the face of the true nature of the world is as self evident as the rain.

Mary’s friend said she’d lost faith in humanity. But what does she expect? Humanity has always been thus. And always it will. Folks like me spend half their lives pissing in the wind, and then we have the foolish cheek to ask why we are wet. Right doesn’t even exist, so wouldn’t people be wrong?.

I mean, I woke up this morning - well afternoon - and Marvin had left a couple of litres of sick in my toilet!

That wacky Martian!

Yeah bebbeh, tonight was DOPE.

You weren’t ther, so you missed the first public airing of Oobie Doo. Rah!

As for Marv, he aint shut up since he showed up at rehearsal. Dude smacked it, but serious, aint shut up till just now! He is asleep on the sofa. As you can see.

Phew! That song I did last night is still genius!

That was close. Still. I am irked a little. You would not believe how difficult it is for a boy like me to get a portable telephone. Really. I dropped mine down the bog. Problem was, it was a replacement phone, for the one that got whisky in it. So I can’t take it back. The sim card from it works, but that won’t fit in my Blackberry, which only works in America, and despite numerous attempts and promises this week, can’t be chipped. I nearly got a contract phone - after an initial “fuck you” after the credit check, they agreed to let me have it if I gave them a £100 deposit, in addition to the £80 connection etc. fee. Despite being minus pounds scary brok right now, I figured it best, only to be denied as I don’t have any utility bills, a drivers licence, or a bank account registered to the house I actually live in. I give up. I you want to talk to me, you can email me. Saying that, my inbox looks like an Iraqi graveyard. I have a landline! Can’t suss how to get an ansafone on it though.

Oh well.

Hey, we’re playing tonight, me and my band that is. Details here. It’s in Easty London and it’s free. Holla at your boy. I have no idea what to wear.

Today I recorded the song I wrote last thing last night, which is electronic and throbs like cock blood in times of opportunity. I walked in the park, had a coffee in the sunshine, read XXL, which was OK. Shaved. Brushed my hair. Those last two may seem trivial, but I very rarely do either. Today I am having a Very Handsome day. It is a terrible thing to waste, but hell.

South Park was shit. The Sopranos was amazing. Tonight they are playing CLONES on CSI, but I have never seen that show, so I have no frame of reference.

It is all about having a decent frame of reference.

Everything is great, apart from the small pile of rather terrifying buff windowed envelopes on my door mat, that I have yet to bear to open, and the similarly rotten state of my inbox. I don’t know what to do about it. I have 639 emails I know I need to reply to. Lord knows about the rest. I need to take a few days to answer email. I need to not write songs or go to the park or watch a cartoon for a few days. That’s it.

The song I wrote today runs at 224 beats per minute, features an unsettling bass drone, an unsampled symphony created with a digital paintbrush and a software synthesizer, a stark opening hook, and an increasingly complex multi-harmony crescendo. Today it sounds genius. Maybe it will be shit tomorrow. Live for the moment, they say.

Oh, what! Marvin The Martian just rang me. He is wandering around Old Street looking for Rooz Studios. Has been since 9:30 or something. He thought we were rehearsing there tonight. In fact, we are rehearsing there tomorrow. Same night as the gig we are playing. I know this is weird. But it is true.

Poor Marvin! Go offer your condolences on his MySpace page, or something.

It dawned on me at about 18:30 that I was very tired indeed. Outside the children on my estate played football in the sunshine. I was hunched over a computer and a keyboard, peering through dry eyeballs at twin monitors on which the technicolour visage of my Fruity Loops sequencer danced and shimmied. Beats and waveforms. Lego and fractals.

I had been making beats for three hours, and, despite a few near misses, had come up with nothing suitably genius. I closed the file I was working on, opened a fresh one, and drew a picture of a dog on the piano roll. I assigned a bass sound to it, slung up a kick and a snare, and pressed play. It was a one bar loop, and it was amazing. Two hours later I had written a chorus and 48 bars of “rap” - although I have to warn you that my recent works have departed from my traditional flow somewhat. I have a new one now. Its not about double time, or single time, or even wrapping words around beats. I have found one can spatter them like bullets, or drape them like towels. It is dope.

Haha, I am such an egist. The hook starts:

“Oh wow, they’re calling you out
Oh wow, they’re calling you out
Yeah it’s a seven fourty seven and they’re calling you out”

It does other stuff after that. Rah.

I love my job. I am good at it.

Anyway, I missed this. They’re making “beauty” products out of dead people and foetuses now. Go figure.

Rah! What a glorious thing. Etc. I have been up since real time, and it has been all good so far, thank you very much

I am well. South London is well. North East London is well. The bambis in my park are well. The goat in my park is overweight and has arhtritis. Which is sad. Poor goat!

The constant state of barmy flux that is my life took another twist yesterday, on a number of fronts. Today we twist further. Everything is moving always.

What was it they kept saying in Magnolia?

“We may be done with the past, but the past is not done with us.”

Serious.

Speaking of which, Alex Jones continues to attract nineoneone whistle blowists. The former head of the Star Wars missile defense program was on his show yesterday saying Dick Cheney did it. But what would he know? He worked for Ford and Carter. Ha!

Nine year old spawns of major label bosses are reading this funny white and red website, I have just been informed. Righteous. If I had a nine year old spawn and found him reading this, I’d give him a nice green Granny Smith. Rah! Do your homework! The world is yours!

“My life is amazing… and great. It’s all down to God…if you don’t believe in God fair enough and you think i’ve been brainwashed then also fair enough but it’s an amazing brainwash…. cos i’m feeling the happiest and most peaceful i have felt in over a year and it’s really quite amazing and i now longer need to feel guilty or blame myself for anything! I can’t stop smiling to myself! So big up the brain washing.”
Mary Turner, yesterday

“Witchcraft scum exploiting the dumb,
Turning children into punks and slaves
Whose heroes and healers are rich drug dealers
Who should be put in their graves.”
Bob Dylan

I was watching The Sopranos earlier. Tony said, “If the history of the earth was the Empire State Building, the existence of man would be a postage stamp. Doesn’t that make you feel fucking insignificant?”

“I don’t feel that way,” shrugged Chris.

This show is so amazing on so many levels.

Later on a man explained to Tony that the boxes he was watching on TV were actually illusions. “It’s just physics,” he said. “Particles bumping up against each other. It’s like two tornadoes.”

“Everything is everything,” nodded Tony’s friend. “I can dig that.”

I wondered if I got that, because I have been thinking of such things lately. I wondered if, had I seen it last tear, I wouldn’t have got it. I wondered if its the 100th Monkey thing. Maybe we’re all starting to get it.

Tony was visited in hospital by an evangelist, who told him that God made the earth 7000 years ago, and that science has an anti Christian Skygod agenda, and the man who told him about the particles was going to hell.

I remembered that time Mary said I was going to hell, but it was OK, because heaven’s perfect, so it won’t bother her in the slightest.

Charlotte was telling me how her friend puts pumpkin seeds in her porridge earlier. It dawned