Artist At The Dawn Of The Golden Age

Wow. The first working week of the Tenties, gone already. What happened? I still have tasks on my to do list! My marketing Wave is still a jumbled mess! I haven't emailed The Animators! My mixtape content remains vague! I haven't opened a business account! I haven't confirmed a paying gig to cover month's expenses! What am I like? Crap!

I DID write most of two new songs though, and I DID organise a schedule of content and I DID write some cool stuff and I DID go through all the animation I was sent and write it all up  and I DID make a wicked video and I DID make another wicked video you haven't seen yet and I DID make some music with Littles and I DID do loads of other stuff too so it's not like the week was a write off or anything.

But seriously, if this is gonna work out I am gonna have to get military or something.

Today it dawned on me that I haven't moved more than 50 metres away from my front door ALL WEEK, so I forced myself to cycle two miles and nearly killed myself skidding on ice in the MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. What the hell is all that about? That's the problem with this country, as Jimbob noted earlier - no grit.

AHAHAHAHA! You know what many task I did yesterday? I boiled a kettle full of water and poured it all over the metal staircase that leads to out front door, as it was thick with ice, and a terrible deathtrap. I then attacked the steps with a spade (actually, I attacked the steps with a dustpan, until the shopkeeper's assistant who hangs around my yard putting things in the bins whilst making tennis player sounds handed me the spade). IT FELT BLOODY GOOD I CAN TELL YOU. Today my metal staircase is mainly free of ice, so I can walk up and down it with impunity. In fact, I am going to walk down it in ten minutes, en route to Islington, where I shall meet my favourite girl and go and see Avatar - yes, your passionate debate yesterday persuaded me.

And you?


Hove Is An Icy Deathtrap

Snowdon By Charlotte

As you know, yesserday I went to Hove, of the famous Brighton & Hove, to have a pagan Christmas celebration with my girl's sister and to entertain my common law niece. Hell yaw we did indeed have a great time, watching the excitable little munchkin open her presents, or attempting to open her presents then getting other people to help her since she's only got tiny little hands. She did good - we got the most mileage out of this dope-ass loop-the-loop matchbox car getup that cost her Mummy Moo a princely £7, but the most ridonculously balling thing she got was a Fisher Price Digital Camera.





I had no idea we were THAT far in the future. Girl's three years old and she's rocking a bright pink, inde-frickin-structible digital camera. And it, she tested that theory immediately by lobbing it at the floor. Rah though. Imagine! When she's thirty she might be able to look back on photos SHE took when she was THREE (so long as Mummy remembers to BACK UP!)... Man, I can't even remember being three. For all I know I might have been made with one of those meat printers in 2020 and sent back to the  past to save mankind. I can't remember shit, and I am less inclined to trust my parents memories these days - but I suppose I shall have to admit I have yet to save mankind. Unless my role was to instigate one of those butterfly scenarios. Maybe the fact that I couldn't pay my phone bill and T-mobile cut me off leads to me not answering some text on Christmas day, which leads to someone catching feelings, which leads to someone else catching the brunt of those feelings, which leads to them leaving that person, and hooking up with a new person, and having kids with that person, one of whom goes on to defeat the inevitable robot invasion in 2027. Cos seven year olds are gonna be GULLY in 2027, if Fisher Price keeps this shit up. She who owns the past controls the future.

Anyway. I was mentioning Hove because that place only went and nearly killed my mankind-saving ass. Rah! Their pavements are ENTIRELY COVERED IN ICE, because the council are refusing to grit them. And my soles aren't very grippy, and I didn't think of walking in the road, so I FELL right on my ASS in a big comedy ARC walking down the hill from the station, and if I hadn't been wearing two massive coats (cheers baby!) I might not have been cushioned enough to avoid CRACKING MY AMAZING SKULL OPEN and spraying Hove's ice with my gooey brain matter. IMAGINE THAT, Hove Council! MANKIND'S DOOM WOULD HAVE BEEN YOUR FAULT! TOSSERS! On the way back I saw a local newspaper headline screaming about 250-odd people hospitalised by Ice Pavements. That's just fucking wrong. You Hovians are paying £100 a month each in council tax for PAVEMENTS MADE OF ICE? You should be taking to the STREETS in your thousands! Although that's really really dangerous.


Canny Hove Councilfucks!

They cancelled the Pagan Festival too (something to do with Clock Burning) cos of the pavements. I smell Christian Conspiracy.

Either that or the bins need taking out.


Aaaaanyway. Thanks for all those podcasts and things you left in the comments the other day. They kept me company last night when I sat up till 5:30am in this freezing icebox of a flat building a website with nothing but PURE HTML, like people used to do in the late nineties. I had to stop at 5:30 though, my brain was starting to go all crystally and my eyeballs were twitching like fieldmices in a badgers set. That shit is hard work. I got it finished though, and I was very proud of my work. There's something deeply satisfying about making a beautiful digital information bomb out of nothing but words. Well, words and >>>>s and <<<<s. And ////s.

So today, I heard that Big Boi and Gucci Mane song. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS?! IT IS AMAZING!

I also heard the Kurrupt/DJ Quik LP, which is similarly AMAZING.

I was alerted to the existence of these things by end-of-year-list-related-chatter on blogs. Well, blog. Bols blog. But this alarmed me. What else have I been missing, here in my bubble in Hackney Wick? Brother! Sister! We need to help each out here! Tell me about the things of wonder I know nothing of! Are we not friends? Is this not THE FUTURE?


So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.

It was a lovely day.

But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.


After a nice little rest, I am back in London with a pink pack of eyeballs on my case. That shit looked nice on IE, but fucked up Mozilla. I don't know what it was doing to Macs. So he will live to the right. Read a bunch of Hilaire Belloc's The History Of England Vol XI, From The First Invasion By The Romans To The Ascension Of King George The Fifth on the train. I now realise that we are living in an oligarchy. Well, a strange, new fangled sort of oligarchy masked as a democracy. With a bit of a monarchy. But it is an oligarchy, nonetheless.

This book was published in 1915, and, interestingly, predicted that Russia would do what America has. The author is also in favour of true aristocracy, and I can see his point.