What I Want For Christmas

mirror Ugh!

December 14th already!


SO much to do before this decade dies.

I am going to have to start getting up at a decent hour.




Rah then. Christmas. We're staying home this year. First Christmas in London since that time I missed the train home and spent the Eve and the Morning on my own in East Finchley with no heating and nothing to eat but Dairylea triangles. World famous superstar DJ Erol Alkan rescued me at lunchtime, bless him. He sent a cab round to get my lonely ass and take me back to his old place in Tuffnel Park, where him and Gordon were playing WWF. That's the Christmas spirit. I will never forget it. He gave me a wrestling outfit and everything.

This year I am in much better shape, as I have my girl, and with any luck we'll have enough money to buy gas and Quality Street. I am well looking forward to it. I might have to nick us a tree. We can sit under it and watch It's A Wonderful Life on the computer monitor. Sounds amazing to me. Are there any other Christmassy movies that come close? Cos that's only gonna keep us occupied for an hour and a half. I am not going to do any work either, although I am considering stealing the Queen's thunder by broadcasting The Don's Speech via Youstream at 4pm.

It's gonna be grate!

Rah though. If you've been wondering what to get me for Christmas, as surely you must have been, mostly I want:

A place to live and work in that fits Not to have to worry about how I am going to pay the rent evey day of my life Not to have to worry about the gas/electric running out every morning Some new glasses Some contact lenses A laptop An analogue synthesiser that sounds awesome, like a Korg or something Oh, and World Peace,  obviously.

Of course, that stuff is all a bit big, and is stuff I must Earn, with my Vast Array Of Skills. And I will, I do not doubt it for a second. But it the meantime, I suppose if you really wanna, you can buy me some comics. I've read all the ones I own many, many times, and my cbr days are over, until I earn that new laptop. My girl didn't like me reading .cbrs in bed anyway, it fucked with her sleep patterns. So I have made a handy Amazon Wish List of comics I'd like to read. It has a PlayStation3 at the bottom as well, which is a bit silly considering I don't have a telly to play it on anyway, and I just had to sell my projector on Ebay.

Ho ho ho!

One of these days I swear down I am going to play GTA4.

When I deserve it.

Maybe when I am old and have time to play computer games, eh? I just looked at my Project List, and that looks like it's gonna keep me busy till the 20s. By which time the GTA games will be brain transfers one can engage in while sleeping, and all my problems will be solved.

To the future Post Office and beyond!

PS - I know I  have a great deal of email correspondance to catch up on, and shall attempt to do some of that after I get back from the Post Office. So there.

PPS - Demonoid is back!


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.


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.