Where Is My House?

I was bring filmed talking about myself for an hour earlier, so I don't intend to talk about myself any longer today. The air is hot enough, here in glorious Stoke Newington. Let's read Grant Morrisson talking about himself, he is great. Check him talking about CCTV: "The character Reuben Zion in The Invisibles was created as a comment on [surveliance society] - he was someone who saw the cameras-everywhere society as an opportunity to turn his dull life into an ongoing performance art masterpiece - because that's what our lives are now. Policemen sit agog before multi-screens, watching the great and endless reality show of our Friday night wanderings through the town centre. We should dress up for them, stage weird dramas in city streets, perform inexplicable one-act improvs depicting scenes of arbitrary kindness, perversion and bizarre revelation. If we must have cameras recording our every move, let's live up to all this attention." Great idea, non? I mean, i tend to flick Vs at cameras. Pretty juvenile, I know. Must Do Better.

Let's have more Grant.

"Everyone who liked The Invisibles should read the Filth if only for the reason that if you follow the conclusions of The Invisibles to their limits, you will NEED The Filth to make sense of what happens next in your life. There is no 'magic'. We're all going to die, like all our heroes. It's already happening and is just a question of waiting for the moment. Life is an in-between state, a bardo where consciousness sees its own reflection in matter and hopefully learns something painfully beautiful about its nature and purpose."


I am full of pollen today, and still looking for a house. Where is my house? Is it so much to ask?

Perhaps it is.