Today I worked on my swaggy new video, then I left the house in the freezing cold on my bicycle (finally, cold has arrived in the English winter!) I visited a Post Office, wherein I sent massive parcels to the four corners of the Earth - Sweden, America, Germany and Wales - then I went to the gym, ON MY OWN, and the spa, ON MY OWN. Usually I go with Jeres, and we talk about manly matters, but he has quit, as it is pretty expensive, and he's already in another gym that has one of those tectonic plate thingamajigs in it.
I enjoined my lone spa. The place was pretty much deserted for some reason, and I did some pretty good thinking as I flitted between the minty super hot steam room and the ice cold plunge pool and the sauna, stopping every now and again to yank a big metal chain and upend a barrel full of ice water on my head. The sauna made me think of Shandaken, where I lived for a short while. Long time readers of this site might remember that strange episode. While we waited for my Interscope deal to sort itself out, myself and my friends rented a great big fuck off house up the side of a mountain in Upstate New York. It had a jacuzzi and a sauna in it, amongst loads of other weird things - like a porno with pictures of my old Camden flatmate in it, and weird and distressing diary notes purportedly written by a 14 year old alluding to deviant and illegal sexual activities that took place on the premises... they told me Bob Dylan lived there once, and the place was surrounded on all sides by angry and cacophonous racoons and other strange animals. Bears used to run off with our rubbish bags, tear them open and strew the contents around the mountainside. I mentioned it on one of my favorite songs that I did last year:
My American adventure feels like a long time ago now, and I have been missing that country of late. I was pondering this at the weekend, then suddenly a pair of Exciting American Opportunities presented themselves to me - entirely separate , yet rooted in the same city... a city I once got kicked out of a nightclub in at 7am by a stoney faced, Batman-jawed Lesbrarian, who told me to get my cigarette stinking Limey face out of her face before she set the seven foot hunk of bricks to her right on my pisstaking ass.
Tomorrow I will reveal the artwork for my next single, and details on how you can pr-order some rare Akira The Don art. I might also post a picture of me in a rabbit mask wielding a firearm. Peace be upon you, friend.