Gangster Mouse

Day two at the momma house, and I am finally getting used to her ridiculous mouse, that looks like a mouse, and not only looks like a mouse - with a tail coming out where you hold the thing, and ears for left and right click button - but is encrusted with diamanté blingy stuff... yes, it is mental and weird and strange and baffling, but I am getting used to it... all in time for me to bog off back to London, and my big heavy wireless mouse that looks like a sort of military armadillo, in time to do the Doncast tomorrow.

Which is a shame, as I rather like hanging out with my mum on our machines in our makeshift office. We naughtily took a two hour lunch break today to walk the streets of Andover, marvel at the ducks, buy presents, and have lunch in the garden centre. If you're ever in the area I recomend it highly, the staff are very nice and they do a mean flowerishly-latticed pork pie. They also sell four foot potted apple trees with really nice looking apples growing on them for £20, which is amazing. I might get one, to go with my little orange plant. I've had the thing for nearly three years, for the most of which time it has sat on the windowsill looking ill and yellow and it hadn't fruited since I got it, until my girl's sister put me on to this Citrus Baby Bio stuff and now I am the proud owner of a tiny baby orange plant covered in loads of tiny baby oranges. They are green rigt now, and only the size of marbles, but I am going to enjoy watching them grow tremendously.

Yes, life is sweet, unless your colleague has planted child pornography on your laptop, or your name is Andrew Crosley and you're getting hit with a £500,000 fine for being an evil granny-robbing douchebag. I would laugh and point, but one shouldn't mock the afflicted, and at any rate, that's a tiny punishment for so great a crime. Bonis nocet quisqus malis perpercit, as my old pal Jesus used to say. That man should be in JAIL, and I am certain he will get there in the end.

Speaking of massive douches, another fun thing about visiting my Mum is seeing all the post that she gets from debt collectors looking for my ass. They have been after me since I was 18 and, drunk in a town centre one fine afternoon, I got myself a Topman Store Card, which I immediately maxed out on a cammo print puffa jacket, some black army trousers and this Mean White Top Wot Zipped Down The Side Of My Neck To My Left Shoulder Blade. Around the same time I also bought a PC computer on credit. I then proceded to run around the country like a madman for a number of years, as you probably know from all those songs I wrote, while the little debt turned itself into a Great Big Debt that I have steadfastly ignored ever since.

ANYWAY. These debt collectors' efforts tend to come in cycles, following a long period of non activity, usually triggered by an unsuccessful loan application and accompanying credit check. They start out with the threatening (pay us), moving onto the very threatening (pay us or else), then to the super threatening (pay us or you will go to jail), before moving on to the desperate (please pay us), and so on. Right now they are in the deep, dark pits of Embarrassing Uber-Desperation, as they are sending me jaunty nonsense like this:

Dear Mr Narkiewicz

We previously asked a debt collection agency to contact you and now your account has been returned to us.

Fantastic offer - Save £ 814.90

It is important that you deal with your outstanding obligation Mr Narkiewicz, so we have the following options for you:

1. Pay £203.73 by 30th September 2010 and we will clear the remaining £814.90 to clear the balance...

Woah! That is indeed a "fantastic offer!" But having gone from "pay us or face legal action... bailiffs... death at the hands of trained ninja midgets" to "fantastic offer!" I think I'm gonna hold out for the next "super fantastic offer", which will no doubt involve YOU giving ME money, and maybe a speedboat or something. Ave!

Mothboy's Last Album Is Called BUNNY

OK, never mind that bollocks I was on earlier. Actually, never mind that bollocks I said one sentence ago. One should never pour scorn on sadness! Sadness is as real as anything else! And deserves accordant respect! Yes!

So, big up that bollocks I was on earlier. Big up my sadness. Big up YOUR sadness. Hells yeahs we get it sometimes, especially when we've been trying to put out our second LP for 3 years and stuff keeps on going DODGE. Rah, I take it so lightly, but deep down I understand that I am dealing with cotdang deep-ass super-emotional ultra-real multi-concious-affecting  ART right here, and that ish touches you deep down where no light can reach just hearing it... so imagine what it does to the person making it! Oh GOD, why didn't anyone WARN me?! Why have I only just realised this?

Christ. I think I am doing pretty well then, considering. Big up me! Big up Jeres and Frankie, with whom I just shared drinks and good banter about literature and stuff!

And big up my old pal Mothboy! He's just dropped his third LP. Naturally, I am on it. I have been on all three of Mothboy's albums. There's some beautiful symmetry. The first was a joint called All The Wrong Places from his debut, The Fears. I wrote that sat on a fire hydrant outside the American Apparel store in the Lower East Side of New York one night, then recorded that shit in Rat Boy's studio, two days before I flew to LA to meet Jimmy Iovine. The second was called I Can See Cities, and that was on his, doh, second LP, Deviance. I wrote that sat outside the Special Cafe in Clissold Park in London. It was a beautiful day. Anow now, 2010, comes...

Johnny Nemo.

Inspired in part by a comic book sent me at Christmas by the good Dr Raydome, I wrote it SAT ON MY SWIVEL CHAIR IN MY STUDIO, and it features on the last Mothboy album...


"'Bunny' will be the last album by me as Mothboy," writes Moth. "For the past 10 years I've been using the name and have decided to use it no longer as am no longer a boy ha!!  So essentially want to end on a high... Album mixture of beats , pop , jazz , funk and bass and some surprises (same as always). Guests to see me out are yerself Adam , Martin Carr , Ted Parsons, Robert Conroy , Gustave Savy, Sezrah Sylvan, David Madden , Paul Gannaway and Suzi C, album artwork by Martin Cornish [the art is BANGING - ATD], mastered by David Dando-Moore, will be released on Ad Noiseam oooh new year-ish. I will promote it , shows etc then stop the project altogether... pastures new from then on (no I am not going "Dubstep"!)... concentrating on live instrument stuff like my Gator Bait Ten band , a punk band or two and then will work on some 4/4 minimal house stuff under my Esjayes moniker. Been fun though but think its reached the end of its natural lifespan."

So there you go. Mothboy is dead. Long live Mothboy. Here, from that new LP what is called Bunny, is a song featuring me, which is called Johnny Nemo.

This Week I Have Been Mostly...

edge1 Olage gang!

It is a beautiful day here in East London, and I am going to get some sun even if it's just half an hour on the bicycle delivering post. So there.

So, what has been going on?

Jeres came round at 9 this morning to work on one of his songs, which is a jaunty ditty about the perils of cider.

I am drafting the schematics of the new, The Greatest Music Website In The World. It goes into production on Saturday. Don't nobody hassle Zef, or even talk to him. HE'S BUSY!

I have been plotting an awesome and futuristic scheme to release the greatest LP since Thriller with said website at the core of said release.

I made a video for the first single to be taken from the best album since Thriller. It is dope.

I got an email off of Gonzales, who is holed up in Paris remixing a song from the greatest album since Thriller. The song is the greatest joyful pop song about love since Be My Baby.

I went to play football in Clissold park with Joey and James, but when I got there I had a message on my phone from my girl saying she'd locked herself out of our flat and run out of money, so I cycled back to let her in, and got some wine and some pizza, which was Joey's idea, and it was a bloody good idea cos it cheered her up. Getting locked out of your house sucks.

I got to play with my first iPhone ap yesterday. I don't have an iPhone. I have a Gphone. Cos I'm a G. But is pretty damn ill, still! More on that soon. I don't think the release date they have on their site is correct.

I approved the designs of my AMAZING NEW SHOES. Which should be in next week. I might have to kill myself after that, because I will surely have peaked.

I have been bugging out on coffee and B.oB.

Ihave been metting with my ace team in preperation for the fight scene shoots of the Zombie Video. Who's in london next weekend? Who wants to be in a fight scene in a zombie video?

I have been working on a giant art piece wot I have been commissioned to do, that involves me drawing tons of things and meshing them together. Drawing a beautiful portrait of Bob Dylan, I realised he DOES look just like a penis with some sunglasses on. But prettier, obviously. No shots.

I have been getting excited about Batman & Robin # 2, which is out today.

AND! I was worried about him, but I just found out that Charles Hamilton is OK. He's also soliciting his services as a producer/mixer/engineer, although he says he "will not mix or produce gangsta or misogynist music. At all. And though I'm ill at Autotune, you gotta be able to NOT rely on it. Period." Which kind of limits his options. But I am glad he's OK, still.

So, how about you? What's going on?


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.


So, there were a bunch of updates and pictures and things, and they got wiped! Oh, the tragedy. So, a recap. On my last day on Rivington Street I saw a white thug in an open-top Hummer drive by blasting out 'I Want The One I Can't Have' and nodding along with a serious expression about his face.

Then we went.

Wade and I ended up on the coach, as there was no room in the van, or car. We got there early, and checked out the scene. The scene is small.

We don't actually live in Woodstock. We live in Shandaken, outside. Well, just outside. Half way up a mountain, hidden away by forest, amongst bears and chipmunks and what have you. In a big old dusty house full of weird porn and broken stuff, with brown water and giant ants. Like, there's a jacuzzi, but it doesn't seem to work. There is the biggest TV you've ever seen, but it's got a big black tear across the front and doesn't tune properly. It's a two hour walk to the nearest shop, whihc is a petrol station, and does a good line in biscuits. The local girl's got a lot of guns.

It is very lovely to look at up in Shandaken. Mountains covered in trees, mainly. Streams. Clouds so low you can jump up and punch them.

I miss Wade, who is back in London sorting out affairs. All my stuff is in boxes.