12 Dec 2013

Joy to the world, etc

According to many scholars, the events of the nativity took place around 7 BC. Given that “BC” stands for “before Christ [was born]” and the nativity is the story of the birth of Christ, this means that Christ was born around 7 years before Christ was born.

This is actually one of the least illogical things to happen during the birth of Christ.

5 Dec 2013



(this is the 'I have no good posts these past few weeks, so just to keep the blog running...' post)

24 Oct 2013

A small life

I stole two bananas this morning
In broad daylight
From under noses
After walking in, under the half moon
Over a pile of old coleslaw on the curb
To which someone had helpfully added
A small plastic knife and fork set

After screaming into the night
Over things that really don’t matter
The gods covering their ears
The cats listening from rooftops unimpressed

It’s good to keep yourself on your toes
Touch life
Test the world from time to time
Make sure it’s all still there
Still tangible

The rules of the everyday
Do not apply as much as you’d think
Even if you don’t do anything of note
Even if you are not regarded by others
And just go about your small life
Content and happy and just getting

That’s ok
That's alright
Just don’t forget to
Keep tasting the fruit once in a while.

7 Oct 2013

11th hour

A sober epiphany
It is the night before
It is a walk into battle without a rifle
I find myself suddenly needing to play catch up

The masks drop for long enough for me to
Remember and
        long enough is not long at all
And I am fragile and I am small
I carry a deck of 52 aces
Black hearts every one
They have got me this far and now refuse to
Serve me any further

A Bösendorfer sends me down the rabbit hole
The sinking feeling nourishing and deadly as
I hold my breath and decide whether to ever
Let go
And it is almost time
Almost tomorrow

Then I see it again
The film still
The portrait

Bleached out
Morning country
Winter air
The opposing blade to here and
And what would once have been hell to me

That being the fault of wise elders
The conditioning by family
Who knew better
Or were just scared to death themselves
And wanting to protect a child

The white keys begin their fade
And I know the end is due
It comes without fail
Without surprise

And silence remains
And the image remains
Secret desire
An infamous chill

Then the small face
Two eyes ready to be filled with
Whatever I choose…
Cold water from the streams
Runs down my back
Smooth rocks underfoot unsteady me

For the first time I question
What I have done
Everything again a divers weight on my chest
Taking me down and
I am encased in cotton wool and silken thread
Forced toward an ever long metamorphosis

I am not running out of time
I am immortal and unwilling
I have all the time the gods hand out
These days I just have no idea what to
Do with it

And I am fragile and I am small
And I carry a deck of 52 aces
All black hearts
53 if you count the one that keeps me

So I break out the claws
And turn my back on myself
Sit, sip, wait to get pulled into the whirlpool
It is almost time
Almost tomorrow
My journey to the centre of the earth.

19 Sep 2013

Ken Norton


“Ali defeated everyone mentally first. With Frazier, Ali had him so mad Joe was trying to kill him with every shot. With Foreman, he tried to kill him with every shot. Mentally, Ali could not defeat me and physically I felt I was as much a physical power as Ali was. He couldn't upset me in any way.” RIP

18 Sep 2013


Hesitation (high) Marks


After a few days of solid listening, I can’t think why many people are calling this Nine Inch Nails album underwhelming or in some cases, boring. If you’ve pretty much created – and then reigned over – a music genre for 10 years, you have the ‘right to do what you want’ card. Maybe some people wanted a Downward Spiral follow-up? That would be equivalent to late-career hip hop albums made my millionaires, still rhyming about shooting people in drug deals… fuck those records. 

Among other achievements, Trent Reznor is sober, older and a parent and goddamn if the latter two alone aren’t enough to change your outlook and output. There is still an underlying bleakness to the record, partly due to the production being a tad sparse, closer to Pretty Hate Machine than say With Teeth, though obviously much more refined than the former. 

Which leads back to the point of Hesitation Marks being an evolution… if this was a How to Destroy Angels release, everyone would love it I’m sure. But putting that NIN logo on the cover creates a huge expectation from most ‘fans’ and less importantly, music critics. The album as a whole is admittedly pretty ‘mid-tempo’ and also more electronic/less organic than others, but so what? It’s not a Downward Spiral or a Fragile because those records regardless of how ‘timeless’ they were, are, like all art in one respect, a snapshot of their time and of the mind of their creator. Also from a personal point of view - you buy the vinyl and get a free CD version with it. #winning.

17 Sep 2013

It’s about everything, as usual.

The radiators click and whine
As the air bubbles slip around inside the pipes
And I bury my head under a mound of feminine pillows
Rub my feet together a few times
To warm my cold bones

The outside world has begun its annual attack
The front door creaks while the glass in the windows
Quietly vibrates from the coming storm
I force myself up to find clothing, armour

Then I can see for miles - across the city one way
And over houses and hills to the back
There are great cracks and holes in the darkness
Blue light shining through here and

The real turns to abstract
Turns it back on you
Like walking through a mirror
From the other side

Any sense of control is lost
You are caught in a silent maelstrom 
Carried on the wing of all your anxieties
And so you swim with it
It is instinct to not fight

Then a moment
Grey and formless
You see a razor slip of white light
Passing and then gone
And that moment of clarity keeps you in check
Sane and grounded
Charged and ready and waiting for the next go round

And the sky begins its descent as you look up, face it and
Breathe and breathe and

Dr Hfuhruhurr..?


Once you know what it is, this apparently innocuous picture of a blob assumes a terrible gravity. It is an adult human brain that is entirely smooth – free of the ridges and folds so characteristic of our species' most complex organ. We can only imagine what life was like for this person. He or she was a resident of what is now North Texas State Hospital, a mental health facility, and died there in 1970, but that's all we know. While the jar containing the brain is labelled with a reference number, the microfilm containing the patient's medical records has been lost. From NS.

13 Sep 2013

The flux of white butterflies

He said the world was full of white butterflies
And footsteps of blood
He said
Bigger did not mean better and that
White walls and obvious juxtaposition
Though useful to the artist,
Should never be considered art

He said we were never meant to live beneath the sun
But rather, burrow deep within ourselves
Consume and ultimately become eternal fire

He said the world was full of words
Masquerading as images and vice versa
Some of those words were made up of colours
Only ever seen at the
Heart of an exploding star
And some images, seemingly deep
Were in reality wading pools of bleach
On white canvas

Of all these things, all I could find to
Convince myself anything was true -
Were the butterflies in the sky and
Blood red tracks
On the staggered concrete behind me.

countdown (again)


Off to Brixton next week to see these lads. At least this time we'll be indoors out of the rain... 

16 Jul 2013

Two hundred dustbins

It is the hottest day of the year
There are 200 dustbins to walk past
Every morning
On the way to sit down and work so I can get paid
And one day live somewhere there is less garbage

Crushed mint
Music of the gods

And a 14th moon is found
Out there where the lack of air is a gift
Where the closer to the sun you get
The further away from breathing you are
And you need one more line for balance

Absolute quiet

But that line never comes
So you grind teeth and swallow bourbon
And sit in the sun and bake
Trying to see past the burning light
Without actually

I turn up the volume
Push up my sunglasses
Look up to try and find moon 14.

12 Jul 2013

Bye bye CBI


A quick post to mourn the passing of a great blog - the Chrome Ball Incident has been logging a serious amount of real skateboard history for a long time now. It was bound to end, as all good thinigs do, but the site - not to mention the integrity with which the posts were written and handled overall - remains truly indispensable.Good work.

4 Jul 2013

Lost cat

A sign on the tree outside the house
 - Lost cat -
Cute photo
I think we saw it yesterday
I think, maybe
So I call to say ‘don’t get your hopes up – but I think…’

Been there, done that
So I call, let her know what I saw and hang up

When I look at the photo a second time
I see the picture is of my face
I little greyer
A little fluffier
But it's me no doubt about it

I check my pockets
Count ten fingers and ten toes
And am pretty certain that I am not lost

So I walk down the path and in the front door
A moment later there’s a knock
I turn and open it and am greeted by a large woman
Holding a small porcelain horse

you called she says
In a vague eastern European accent
            can you give me more info she says

I couldn’t but tried anyway
Been there
Done that
She thanked me and left

I closed the door and went to the bathroom
Washed my face and checked the mirror for signs of cat
And nothing much else

I look down
Ten toes
I’m not lost
I’m right here

21 Jun 2013

7 Jun 2013

Conflicting advice

Gentle voices have of late
Been telling me to kill
Or perhaps that’s too distinct

They have whispered the blues to me

Warm breath on my neck
Reassuring me that there would be no consequences
Fire in my throat
A clear mind

There is little more terrifying than a clear mind
Not much left to fear after pure love and security
The true sign of life for some
Is the true sign of the end for others

When joy is weighed down by the shadow
When you only ever laugh while in company

But then

The screams
Bourbon soaked and
Arms scarred
Shouting for you to rise
To fight for everything
For everyone

Ice down your back
The biggest joke of all
Looking to the end of the world and seeing the edge
That really does exist

And you are surrounded
Hands taking and souls giving
Souls or something
But you are far from alone
And whom do you reach out to
When all these words all make so much sense

Though the voices are all at once black and white
They’re the first truth and the last lie you’ll ever hear
This is the reason you sing songs
The reason you drink and write and
Bang the drum.

30 May 2013

Reverse creep while the goddamn television keeps me down again

Genius idea 1;
I figure
If I log three things at a time
Maybe one of those will save time
Grab someone
Condense correlate

Life is like this
A rambling haiku of misspelling
Constant asides
Accidents forgiven
Mistakes forgotten
Love remembered
Someone else’s guitar
While your voice sings along
Albeit silently
A secret well known to all
This late in the game

Nothing linear
If anything
Experience and actions become reversed
Perfect and symmetrically opposite
A crippled symmetry
Here I am alone
Red all around
Flowers and
Wine and heavy curtains that she bought and got made and

Here I am alone
Pretending I am young though not wanting to
And any focus or point or anything of something that once there was
Long since left me - for sunnier climbs no doubt

Genius idea 2;
Sit and force it to come
The words are here
there somewhere

Light up
Close my eyes and lie about the page having an end
About there being rules and facts and a real world
Just outside somewhere

Even with this sky as light as it is now at nearly 9pm
I see the reality through the gap in those dark heavy curtains
How long before we all end up just coasting along a path
Because that was the easiest thing to do
The safest thing
No one to follow anymore
No one left to lead now
What a predicament

How are the others dealing with this I wonder…
Do they still have each other
These thoughts are laid down in too abstract a fashion
Too camouflaged to be considered (I am aware - I am not stupid)
An intentional wasting of my – and your – time
So why bother
Because ‘one day’
One day they’ll all wake up
And who knows
Maybe I will too

But until then I now have this responsibility
Then and now
My opposing forces
Mirrored and so unaware of each other

Countdown is beginning
- has begun
My mistake
The morning birds now sing outside
Into the nighttime clouds
So at least I am not the only one in the wrong
And I remember that I used to do that
And far from lamenting that time
I am glad to miss it
I shed not a tear for the naivety of our youngest nights

21 May 2013

1939 - 2013


The only thing that ultimately matters is to eat an ice-cream cone, play a slide trombone, plant a small tree, good God, now you're free.

16 May 2013


'World War 3' is a working title. This is the start of the start of the beginning of a short story I'll probably never finish... peace.

Ours is a small story, told from inside a far bigger one. The biggest story we’d ever been part of – and the biggest there would ever be.

The house was merely shell. Orange brick turned to white chalk. Fragmented and abstract. Blackened, charred. The bright smouldering long since cooled. Luckily for us the layout of the small 5 room building was such, that when the last of the big blasts came, the shockwave passed the south east corner of the house in a kind of slipstream. This left the large rear bedroom more or less intact – structurally at least.

We had the 3 beds for the 4 of us to share, a luxury that we’d told the children not to let on to anyone outside the family. The small stove worked fine and what was left of the bathroom was still attached to the inside wall of the bedroom so the toilet was workable most of the time.

Running water hadn’t been anyone’s reality for I think about 3 months by that time. It was hard to know for sure. We knew the date from the radio broadcasts, but the events of the period overall, were all just blurred into one another. The important thing was that the 3 remaining exterior walls were mostly intact also, forming something that still resembled a home. Or at least what strangers and scavengers could recognise as having been a home, once upon a time…

We had managed quite well for the year since last winter – the one they named ‘the dead winter’. We had seen neighbours leave in the hope of settling somewhere more populated, seen others perish. We had watched as those who had retreated to the countryside and outer suburbs - returned only to fade away weeks later. Meanwhile the decision was made that we’d stay put – wait it out. What we expected to happen wasn’t entirely clear, but we felt staying in one place would be safer for the kids.

We were wrong.

9 May 2013

Quote of the day

"Skateboarding is not a hobby. And it is not a sport. Skateboarding is a way of learning how to redefine the world around you. For most people, when they saw a swimming pool, they thought, ‘Let's take a swim.' But I thought, ‘Let's ride it.' When they saw the curb or a street, they would think about driving on it. I would think about the texture. I slowly developed the ability to look at the world through totally different means."
Ian Mackaye