late

Late Avatar Win!

avatars Remember ages and ages ago I had a competition wherein I asked you to come up with working titles for my second album, and I was going to draw avatars for the winners?

Well I didn't!

Not until last night, when I was looking for an email from Wonchop, and I came across this email:

Thanks for choosing me. :3 Anyhoo, can I have one of my monkey dood, Wonchop, prefferably doin some kind of swell aerobatics and kicking some guys ass. And remember, he has hands for feet. And where's gloves on them.

I was confused for a second, then I remembered. Crap! Ages ago I promised people avatars, and I never delivered!

I felt awful, oh my brothers and sisters.

That is why I have spent today drawing the promised avatars. There's Neko on the left, who entered "The Hermit Crawls From His Cave And Shouts "TITS!" which was awesome. There's

Wonchop in the middle - no acrobatics or feet, cos its an avatar, and those things gotta be tiny - for "Akira The Don VS The World". And there's Laura on the right, the girlfriend of Mark Bell, who came up with "Thriller 2". I hope they're still together!

As far as I can remember, there are more to do, but I can't find them in my inbox, and I can't find the original post on here either. Can anyone remember what the post was called?

Thanks to Lacey, I now have the full list. And I have Bloodred and the aforementioned to draw. Pow!

black-and-white

BONUS!

Silentbob done a new podcast! This one's got TV themes in it, apparently. When I've finished listening to Tim Westwood and Soulja Boy being FUCKING HILARIOUS on 1xtra I'm a check it. Westwood's telling Soulja Boy that Leonard Cohen is making up rumours about how he's making a record with him. Soulja doesn't know who Leonard Cohen is. In the words of Westwood, Westwood is so crazy right now.

Zzz

So, I got some (ha!) sleep, and I listened to the noises Birddogg was making up here while I was down in New York, doing whatever it was I was doing in New York. Like, there's some ill stuff. But one in particular is just tremendous. it is mighty. It fills my heart. And prefectly fits so many of the raps I was writing in New York, tempom flow, everything. So, what I've done, is draw various raps, and bits of raps, together, to create this New York song that's been brewing all the time I've been here. It is best I get it out now, before I FORGET. Annoyingly, the necassary component is missing. So piss.

Bad: All the stuff I bought last week - food, drink, socks, weed - is gone. Mostly. I got a lot of Ritz crackers, peanut butter and macaroni. Good: There's a Death's Head Moth on my window. (See right) Bad: There is animal shit by my window. Good: The air outside is fresh and envigorating. Bad: The air in the top level of the house, in which I am supposed to be dwelling, is thick with the stink of animal and of animal excrement.

I went to turn on the sauna earlier, and nearly trod in cat shit. Or dog shit. It could be both. Whatever. It's like, wow, sauna! Oh, catshit. Wow! Oh. Wow! Oh. Etc. So, I wanted to go into town and get a job today, to pay for my ticket back to New York, but waited about for people to come with me rather than just doing it, and the end result is it's super late now, too late to get a job anywhere, and everyone's going into town to go out, save me, who must stay at home cos he has no ID (this is a worry), and it's too far to chance not being allowed in anywhere.

A ha!

So I should write more now. I wrote a bunch earlier. Phil is worrying that Amy has forotten his ass, as she went in her tiny car to take Cecelia and James over an hour ago. But she hasn't forgotten him. It's just miles from ShanGayKen to Woodstoock! A HA!

I just asked Spiky if he has a message for the world. He said, "spitroast!" So there you go.

Lush

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.