I’m not big on poetry… when I was at school it was used as a punishment. Probably not the best way to get kids into the subject, and hey, it put me off for most of my life.
However, there are two poems that I find I absolutely love, and thought I would share them with you… and from a guy who writes the kinda shit I usually write, I’m not sure what that says about me.
However, both poems are from wars… so maybe that does say something about me.
“If you are able, save for them a place inside of you and save one backward glance when you are leaving for the places they can no longer go. Be not ashamed to say you loved them, though you may or may not have always. Take what they have left and what they have taught you with their dying and keep it with your own. And in that time when men decide and feel safe to call the war insane, take one moment to embrace those gentle heroes you left behind.”
Major Michael Davis O’Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.”
Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae wrote it on 3 May 1915 after he witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, 22 years old, the day before.
So, there you go. Maybe I do have a little ‘art’ in me.
Yep, that’s it. That’s all this blog is about, but I can finally stop calling The Book, ‘The Book’, and now say ‘this is how far I’ve got with The Dead Outside’.
That is all.
[Quick update: Look what my glorious compadre Jason Tabrys just knocked up for me:]
If you’re new to my blog, then you may be surprised to learn that I have been lacking in discipline lately.
If you’re not new, or just plain know me, or have read about what I got up to just over a week ago, then you’re probably sat there with a raised eyebrow uttering the words; “In more shocking news, the earth is round.“
So, the start of the month I wrote about knuckling down to NaNoWriMo (where I have to write 50k words of The Novel), hammering the Open University courses that I’m doing (Italian and Creative Writing), and generally just working hard.
I failed. Miserably.
I managed about 6,000 words of NaNoWriMo and I have 3 days left to rustle up 34,000 more. No one can do that. No one. But I am determined to have ALL those words written and ready for editing by the END OF THE YEAR.
I’m two weeks behind on the Italian course. I can claw that back. I’ve already transferred the CD to my iPhone and have been learning bits and pieces while at my ‘real’ job – driving a school bus.
I’m a week behind on the Creative Writing course. That isn’t a problem, as I smash that when I sit down to do it. In fact, I destroyed a weeks’ worth of coursework in one morning a couple of weeks back.
But, I’ve also let a few people down. Jay Tabrys has given me an opportunity to write for him and his www.welovecult.com and I’ve let him down, although technically I don’t start until 1st December. He’s the main reason I gotta get my shit together.
Marni Mann – always there, always encouraging me, always sticking by me. I owe her a book.
Anyway, I’m not gonna waffle on, but needless to say, I’m gonna pull my shit together and set things straight. No more drinking/partying/destroying cities until I’ve got things in order.
Oh, well except for London 16/17th December. Soulwaxmas party in Brixton. That’s gonna be my only big blow-out before New Year.
WARNING: MAY CONTAIN ALCOHOL, DRUGS, AND FUCKED-UP GURNING FACES.
It all started with this track:
And it all ended with us being unconscious on a broken down train.
In August this year, DJC-Kay and I went to the SW4 Festival so that I could finally get to see my favourite DJ, Sasha. We came, we saw, we conquered. I got home and listened to some of Sasha’s mixes and came across the Kalkbrenner remix of the track I’ve linked above. I fell in love with it, found a Kalkbrenner Essential Mix and decided there and then that I needed to check this guy out.
A quick google search revealed he would be playing at the Koko club in Camden, London, so I bought some tickets and then asked if anyone in the wonderful land of Facebook wanted to accompany me.
November 13th arrived, and we hit the boat to the mainland at 8.47, and I was on the vodka and pharmaceuticals by 8.48, and in Portsmouth boat terminal at 9.15 topping up our coke bottles with vodka. I know how to treat my ladies.
Our train rolled into Waterloo just after 11am, and we were due to meet Stretch’s sister – Kerry Heverin – at Victoria Station.
But first I had to take care of something. You may remember in past blogs that I could never remember the name of the pub that you have to go downstairs to, based in Waterloo station. Well, now I know.
The Wellesley. I made Stretch and Becki come in there for a drink with me just to find out its name! And – as we walked in – a guy came running up the stairs, bumped into us, shouted “DRINK!” and then promptly walked himself down a dead end.
He was easily one of the least weird people we’d meet this weekend.
Victoria Station was our next destination where we finally met Kerry. We were half-cut, she was like a hungover, hyperactive Leprechaun, and Bex and I stood back and let them jump up and down and shriek in their Northern Oirish accents. I think only dogs could hear them.
The Shakespeare was the nearest pub to where we stood, so, by default, was where we headed. Finding a table, the four of us sat around allowing Kerry and I to get acquainted. I say ‘acquainted’, but she spent most of the time saying things like; “Jody Jody Jody… you are really bald, aren’t ye?”. It also took her under two hours of meeting me to call me a ‘cunt’.
I decided to escape for a cigarette, and slipped outside. Where Kerry found me and continued her incessant talk AT me. I was saved by a drunken old man staggering down the road, who came straight up to us and introduced himself as “Harry Kewell Fuckwit-Cuntington.”
Seriously.
This is when I discovered Kerry and I have the same sense of humour… as we both invited him in for a drink with us.
Harry Kewell Fuckwit-Cuntington
Harry sat down with us, and informed us that he’d just been kicked out from next door. We laughed, and were about to order him a drink when the above average looking barmaid (I was almost fully steaming by now) trotted over and told him he had to leave.
Apparently, when he said he had been ‘kicked out of next door’, he meant he had been kicked out of the NEXT door of this very same pub.
Harry was amusing, and brightened an already funny day up, and as he went to leave, he leant over to kiss Becki… and his teeth fell out of his fucking mouth.
It didn’t end there. i had to escort him to the door, and then hold his hand as he took an almighty jump from the step outside to the pavement below.
It must have been a jump of all two inches high.
With Harry gone, we stood outside mourning his departure, fags in hand… when suddenly a
Goldie.
man all in gold turned up and cheered us up. Kerry talked at him a lot, we had photos taken with him, and then he left quickly. I’d like to think his name was Goldie…
Next stop is Kings Cross, where we hadn’t booked ourselves a hotel. This is where I made my first schoolboy error. I’d forgot my fucking bank cards. I was wedged up with notes, but the Travelodge only took cards… via online booking… and tried as I might I could not get the girl on reception to take my damn money.
Luckily Kerry had her card. I gave her the cash, and – after a stupidly long time of trying to use the two computers in reception – Kerry finally booked the room over the receptionists phone. Yes, it was as much arse ache as it sounded.
We dumped our gear, and hit the vodka bottles we just bought, boozing it up in true pikey style to get ready for Koko and Kalkbrenner. The receptionist ordered us a taxi (the first useful thing she’d done) and just before it arrived we bombed the MDMA that we’d stashed with us.
I don’t do a lot of MD, only on special occasions, and this was the second time this year; the first being SW4. Becki was nervous about it, as she apparently becomes a ‘complete nuisance’, but Stretch was easy about it, and I was just out for a good fucking time.
And not many people can do it better than me, if I do say so myself.
The queue for Koko wasn’t too bad, and the stream of people actually ended right at the door to a pub. We decided to join the queue by sitting inside for a drink. Vodkas all round, and Kerry stated that she had to wait for her friend… Darren, I think his name was… but I knew that any second the MDMA would rip me a new one, so I said that I had to get in Koko before they had to peel me off the ceiling of the pub.
Becki came with me as we left our Irish friends awaiting Darren, and our ‘adventures’ continued in the queue outside. As we stood in the quickly moving queue, a ‘propa Landan geeza’ leaned over the railing next to me and started spewing swear words at such a rate that even I struggled to figure out what he was saying.
Suddenly I realised that he was spitting venom at the couple behind me, and once he’d finished berating them and left, I had to ask them what the hell had happened. They told us that the ‘geeza’ had offered them tickets while they were already stood in the queue. The guy – who was German – said no, and ‘geeza’ blew up.
Although thinking about it, the other guy was German. Maybe that was enough cause for abuse.
Inside, we grab our drinks as a female DJ plays tunes that already has the several hundred
Kalkbrenner and Grigoriu
in there bouncing happily is playing some big, Euro tunes. We join in, and then turn around to find the German guy and his girlfriend dancing along with us. The German guy informs us that the lady DJ is Paul Kalkbrenner’s girlfriend, Simina Grigoriu, the Romanian Bombshell.
We chat and dance, and I ask German Guy whereabouts in Germany he’s from. He tells me a place name that sounds like Luftwaffe, but obviously isn’t, before I turn to his pretty little blonde girlfriend and say slowly to her:
“AND WHERE ARE YOU FROM?”
Her reply?
“Leicester.”
Leicester Girl, German Guy, and Isle of Wight Idiot.
Meanwhile, back in the pub next door… and the MDMA has gripped hold of Stretch tightly by her throat. And then released it. What happened next wasn’t pleasant.
Although me to tell it to you as her sister Kerry told it to me. While reading this, speak it aloud, and in a Northern Irish accent. It will help colour the situation.
“So then, Jo-dee, lemme tell ye wa’ happen’d. There was oi, sittin’ there all pretty loike, when Stretch ‘ere suddenly started makin’ faces loike a choo-choo train. ‘Er cheeks kept blowin’ out and oi suddenly realised that she was gonna boke! [*translation: boke means to vomit] Oi was a little fookin’ worried, Jod-ee, bu’ Stretch managed to get ‘erself to de bathroom. Unfortunately, she barged into me on ‘er way, and oi dropped me fookin’ phone, and smashed de fooker!”
Here, Stretch takes over the story:
“Fook me, oi jus’ about got de toilet door open before I sprayed it everywhere! It were loike water from a high pressure ‘ose! I pasted dat fookin’ toilet. Oi feel sorry for de next person dat went in dere…”
Back inside Koko while Stretch was redecorating the pub, Becki and I were dancing. And dancing badly. The MD had gripped us strong, and our dance moves involved a lot of holding onto each other, bumping into other people, and saying various things like; “Imma
Kalkbrenner's Number One fan in Kalkbrenner t-shirt... and his other hand is cupping my arse. Seriously.
fuuuucked…”; “Where did we park the spaceship?”; “Please call my mum…” and the usual shit.
Luckily, the Europeans around us are more forgiving than our English cunterparts, or they were just as spangled, and they danced along with us. At some point I vaguely recall someone holding me up. It was either the German guy or Jesus, or Paul Kalkbrenner’s Number One Fan, but my memory is understandably sketchy over all this.
After a little while, and the manic, amazing rush had been ridden, and we were fully on our way to Wonderland. Kalkbrenner was on set, the light show enthralled us, and the beat of the music held us and wrapped us in its sounds. All around we could see mobile phones and cameras held aloft as everyone seemed to be filming the opening track of Kalkbrenner’s set – one of my favourite tracks of his, “Des Stabes Reuse“. Below is the video. At around the 6.01minute mark you can hear Miss Beavis utter the words “I am off my fucking trolley” as she then cackles like a mad cat woman. I laugh when I hear it even now.
All above us in the balcony rooms people dance, but I can’t get the light in the place to do a photo justice, but believe me when I tell you that the sight is magnificent when you’re absolutely fucking rendered.
We dance and dance, and then I realise that Stretch and Kerry still haven’t joined us, and – as if by magic… or by copious amounts of drugs – they suddenly appear. This is great for me, as Stretch and I hang off of each other for the next two hours of the set. Poifeck.
We’re all together, even the elusive Darren (who I can’t recall at all, so I’m starting to think
The Three Amigos.
that the girls just made him up so that they could fuck with me), and we’re having one of the best nights ever. Paul Kalkbrenner is a European Demi-god, and every track he puts on and every drop he makes has the crowd yelling and cheering. You have to remember that this DJ is bigger than Lady Gaga all over Europe… guess sometimes those foreigners do have better taste in music.
There isn’t much else to tell about Kalkbrenner and Koko, but we all danced the whole time. Apart from when another ‘geeza’ wobbled up to us and offered us “Anyfink yoo fackin’ waaant yoo caaaants”. I can’t remember what I said but he actually went to the bar for something, so Becki grabbed me and said that we’d better get the fuck out of there.
So we did. And ran downstairs to find Stretch.
Who we found talking to the same fackin geeza.
Koko - not Kalkbrenner night but gives you an idea of what it was like.
Our time at Koko was up, but not until we’d heard and seen Kalkbrenner play another two or three encores. We more than got our monies worth, and the man plays an amazing set. I’ll definitely be back to see him again. I’m just glad we managed to catch him on his Icke Wieder tour to promote his new album.
But our night wasn’t even close to being over. We headed back for the Travel Lodge, sunk some more vodka (this time with added Red Bull), and generally sat around suffering as the MD wore off. We were struggling, but Becki had a word with herself, I manned the fuck up, we all pumped ourselves with more drugs than a branch of Boots carries, and by 1.30am we were back in another taxi on our way to Fabric.
The Hallway to Koko
We queued outside – again, not a long queue – and the three girls were called to a separate doorway by a lady bouncer while I stood behind two guys waiting to go in. The man on the door was thoroughly searching them, and I suddenly realised that the wrap of bag stuffed into the waistband of my boxer shorts probably wasn’t as well hidden as I thought it was.
He searched me. He searched me good. He put his hand around my arse (outside my jeans), and then around my shorts (inside my jeans), before he pulled out my wrap and held it up in front of me. I raised and eyebrow and shrugged, and waited for him to say those words that all clubbers dread…
“I think you better come out the back with me.”
But he didn’t. He threw it on a table next to him (probably for his own consumption later… I kinda hope so, as it was good gear) before he went at it AGAIN around my shorts.
“Man, what else you got in there?” he asked as he stepped back.
I had nothing, and told him so. And to prove my point I said; “Here, look,” and started to take my jeans down.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” he yelled, and pushed me INTO the club. “Get the fuck outta my sight!”
I was in; drugless, but in. Kerry, Stretch, and Becki all stood at the top of the stairs looking confused, asking me what happened.
“I’ve been violated by a big black man.” I whimpered.
Fabric
Fabric as a club, is pretty good. The layout might be a little confusing, or that might be the MDMA that still rattled around inside me. The people inside – bear in mind that this is the ONLY night I’ve ever been there – were pretty much idiots. Fop-haired young men, dressed like they’ve been kicked out of the audience of Never Mind The Buzzcocks, and girls who looked barely old enough to be in the place.
Plus everywhere we looked there were people wearing silly and strange hats. I flicked my hood up to join in, and three seconds later had the hand of security on my shoulder telling me to take it down. Becki bought with her a hat with ears and long baubles hanging off of it. I wore this for the next three hours and no one said a fucking word.
Kerry. 'Nuff said.
The night went past in a semi-blur. Becki and I were fueling up on double Red Bull vodkas – with shots a lot bigger than back home, but at a cost of £9.50 each – while Stretch and Kerry drank vanilla vodkas and raspberry vodkas.
We hit the dance floor, as per usual, but the throng of people and idiots that were stumbling around were proving to be a problem, and I didn’t fancy fighting my way to the stage where everyone looked like they were having fun. If I had still been in the throes of Mr MDA then I would have.
Instead, becki and I joined Stretch and Kerry in a dark corner, where I stomped my feet until the end of the night. At one point the girls wondered off for a cigarette, but I stayed put.
As I stood there, stupid hat bouncing, feet stomping, a man around my age stepped up to me, wiggling his hips.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Wanna dance?”
“No thanks,” I smiled back. “I’m not gay.”
“Are you sure?”
“What? If I want to dance or if I’m gay?”
“Either.” he replied and strutted away to the dance floor.
He’s probably lucky, because if I was still ruined I would’ve danced with a lamppost. And probably would’ve tried to fuck it.
While Stretch and I were acosted by a right space cadet of a girl who looked like Lisa Loeb, (of “Stay (I Missed You)” ‘fame’)Kerry spent most of the time talking at a guy who was clearly gay. Well, clearly gay to the rest of us but not our Northern Irish friend. It was his bright pink t-shirt, and the throngs of gay men who came past stroking him and high-fiving him that gave it away.
Eventually, the days antics caught up with us… and by ‘us’, I mean Kerry, but she had been on it the day before, and I was starting to struggle myself, so we headed back to our Lodge in Kings Cross.
It wasn’t long before we were all tucked up in bed… for an hour… before we had to leave our hotel rooms. We went to Camden where we sat in a Spoons, blowing out of our arses, and it wasn’t long before I tapped out.
I needed to get home. I needed to get on that train. Stretch stayed with Kerry in Waterloo, at the Wellesley Pub (I know its name now!) and Becki and I hit the train.
Finally we managed to sit in a comfy seat, feet aching, eyes bloodshot, laughing at everything we had done. Exhaustion overcame us and we slipped our headphones in, music pumping softly into our ears as our heads fell together and we drifted off to sleep…
…before the fucking train then broke down before leaving Waterloo and we had to get off of it.
Shit cunts.
Allow me to leave you with this little gem of myself and Becki, that perfectly captures the essence of our weekend, and probably says more in this picture then I just have in over 3,000 words…
Around 22 years ago there was a small, dirty little club in a small, dirty little town. In this club I was given many, many musical lessons – not to mention pulling ropey birds and downing more drugs than Pablo Escobar in his time – but it is also where I met two Djs who were to shape my musical life.
These men were called Andy and Jay. In this interview I talk to Jay Innit, himself.
1/ So Jay, I’m not going to rattle on too much about Patsy’s Nightclub, as that is a blog I have lined up for the future, but tell me how long you played there, and how long were you DJing before you and Andy ‘took over’ the place.
I cant believe it was that long ago!! i was 18 years old when i first started playing that fabulous little club’ that we wont mention’ [*coughs* Patsies *coughs*, it was 1988 and , I had just started the whole clubbing thing and the forenamed club was my local haunt, I'd only been going there(as a punter) a few months when the staff there were spreading the rumour of possible closure due to lack of interest (they were lucky to be getting 50 people a night)..... and troubles with getting DJ's ,(it is worth noting at this point that clubs back then were stuck in the 70's and it was common place to play slow records at the end of the night).
Well i couldn't stand by and let them shut my local club.. i loved it there, so one evening after a DJ quit i drunkedly said i would take over the night and became resident DJ , a week later i met Mr.B [Andy Bailie] who was DJ-ing the under 18′s night , he was really good at mixing…. (my mixing was still a bit… vague back then), he ended up staying late and doing the over 18′s with me (1988 was still right at the birth of clubbing as we know it today, Acid house was a fairly new phenomenon and we found we had a shared love of this music and the art of ‘mixing’) things just evolved from that point for the next 13 years following the evolution of house/club music (that has to be one of the longest DJ residencies on record) we played many other clubs also during that time , but that club was our baby so in summary to your question I had been djing for about 20 mins before i started there *laughs*, that was 23 years ago , i’m still going today and still searching for something new.
I played there for 13 years and was heartbroken to see the site go for redevelopment, we had built it up from nothing to being rammed packed every week it stayed rammed for 11-12 years right up to and including the last ever night. we built a loyal following , in fact the ‘crowd’ are the real stars of any club ,they give any night that special buzz ,with a little guidance from the the chap up the front with the vinyl , and possibly also the dodgy looking bloke handing out smarties in the shadows…. i miss each and everyone of them .
2/ I can’t stress enough how much I learned about music just from listening to you two mixing it up every weekend, and even then heading to Andy’s to dig around the thousands of bits of vinyl he had in his basement as you two made me mix tapes straight off the cuff.
So, back to 2001, ‘the’ club shuts… so what do you do with your weekends after 13 years of breathing life into Ryde?
At first , was at a bit of a lose end ,and done things ‘Normal people’ probably do ( (looking back this probably saved my life)… as you can only burn the candle at both ends for so long . after a short while the boredom set in so we hatched a few new semi regular nights in a couple of clubs over in newport town… and kinda been doing that ever since if you’re interested you can have a listen to one of my sets i recorded from our gig last xmas –> ( http://soundcloud.com/stinky-3)
I’ve also started a podcast , which means i can branch out and play other musical genres under some new aliases *laughs* Oh and i’ve bought some great new toys, my favourite being a Kaoss3 pad (great for adding live effects to a dj set ) and the latest being a Native Instruments MASCHINE (great for live remixing during a set)… so my weekends are taken up by doing other ‘new’ things … or sitting about chilling whilst collecting as much new music as humanly possible.
3/ What format do you mix with these days? Are you completely tech-savvy, or do you still use vinyl on occasion? I have roughly 22gb of music stored on my PC and memory sticks, but I’m sure you can put that figure to embarrassment…
At home i pretty much only use Traktor on the PC ,mainly because of a space problem as my place is about the same size as a matchbox, If i was putting on a night somewhere that didn’t have equipment already ,then i would take my technics 1210 mk5 ‘s and serato as this would give me the option of playing mp3′s/wav and vinyl , mainly i would use mp3/wav (unless it was an old skool night where i would dig through the vinyl room for some forgotten gems *laughs*
Saying that i quite enjoy playing on pioneer CDJ 1000′s if a club has them , and lets face it most have as they have become industry standard in the same way technics dex were back in the day *laughs* *again*
As for how much music I have stored?
‘Some’.
4/ Have you ever attempted to convert all of your vinyl into MP3 format? I’ve actually got a USB convertor for the stack of olf vinyl I have, and I’ve been putting it off for about two years. My stack is about two foot high. I dread to think what yours is like…?
Well my vinyl is so old it has started to bio-degrade *laughs* so in short .. ‘ No’.. i haven’t been attempted to convert my vinyl to mp3, if i needed one of my vinyl tracks to play i’d probably download a better copy anyway , lets face it if you look hard enough you can find almost anything you want online, and also the conversion would only be as good a quality as from the source in the first place , most of my vinyl has been soaked in beer/spirits and silly string over the years plus whatever else that gets chucked around in clubs *laughs*
You seem obsessed with the ‘size’ of my music collection!
Ok, I will estimate that i have around 24-30 foot of 12″ vinyl/albums , around 1 – 2 yards of 7″ vinyl and 2 large HDD’s of mp3′s , but by the time this goes to print i may have started on my 3rd HDD…
5/ Size impresses me. I just remember the stacks that Andy Baillie had stored in his little ‘dungeon’ once upon a time… So, for a guy that has seen many, many ‘talents’ come and go, who has impressed you musically over the years, and do you like any of the new DJs/producers out there?
That’s a tough question , there’s many good new dj’s /producers so its hard to single any out; Amon Tobin , Danny Byrd, even Norman Cook’s many aliases over the years , ((Dave ‘Switch’ (although not that well produced, bonkers ideas)) Andy Weatherall ,not forgetting the legend that is Tony Coleman of London Elektricity fame, probably the best band ever!
Oh then there’s Underworld during the Darren Emerson years. i should also mention my mate andyB {Andy Bailie aka Future King of The World] whos dj mix creations are truely inspired sometimes …i also like what you are trying to do on Vectis Radio and dragging our little rock into this millennium.
Theres many good productions nowadays as musical production has been opened up to the masses in recent years as the equipment needed has become more compact and afordable , you no longer need a huge studio to produce quality sounding music, you just need a good ear and a few hundred quid for a pc , a good audio editing software package and a few plug-ins, i use cakewalk sonar 6 mainly , i have version 7 , but it wont run on win xp , i have it installed on my new pc, , but i always come back to my beloved xp machine for doing anything musically (its faster) … xp rocks!! win7 is for rednecks! *we both laugh*
6/ Win7 sucks cocks for rocks. As a man who has DJ’d everywhere over the years, what was/is your favourite venue? And do you still get the urge to get behind the decks on a night out?
I prefer small dark and dingy clubs over superclubs , the atmosphere is always better , my fave venue of all time would have to have been the small sweaty subterranean club known as patsys… but then I am biased *laughs* I used to like the Opera House in Bournemouth , Matter in the London dome was a good venue if you looked past the bare breeze block construction , and the Concord down in Brighton .to be honest most clubs ive been to have been a bit of a blur…
Yeah I still get the urge to get behind the decks (and occasionally still do ) but its not the same as back in the day, nowadays every 15 mins you will lose half the dancefloor as people are forced to go outside for a smoke, which inturn is killing off the smaller clubs , this is evident by the amount of festivals that have started to pop up as people go back outside to party.
7/ I never thought of the smoking ban effecting clubs like that… but you’re right! Ok, final question before we stick in a link to your mix; What would you ideal musical life be like if you had one wish…?
I’m not really into musicals.
Thanks Jay, and thanks for shaping my musical future, whether you accept it or not!
Now, I gotta go find a man called Andy B to see if he’ll give me an interview…
Ok, let’s go back in time, to January, when I wrote THIS BLOG. Ok, now you’ve either rekindled your memory or learnt something new(ish) about me. Well, for the past ten months I have worked at it, but no where approaching the sort of time and effort that I should be giving to it.
So, allow me to introduce you to NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This was an event started by Chris Baty back in 1999, where he and 20 others in San Francisco decided to spur each other on to write 50,000 words of a novel within a month. The following year, 140 participated… the next year 5,000. In 2010, over 200,000 took part. NaNoWriMo had taken the writing world by storm.
And now, I’m participating. The Book is getting new life breathed into it. I wanted to write 5,000 words a month, and so far I’ve rustled up 20,000. So, NaNoWriMo is going to supply me with 50,000 words which will make The Book almost complete. This could be the motive I need to get things back on track… although, as you may have recently discovered, I am to become a published writer…
But, I can’t rest on my laurels, I need to get all guns blazing, and the undead in my head need their story telling.
So, sit tight, and I’ll be updating my Twitter, Facebook, and WordPress accounts with my wordcounts all through November… as well as growing a moustache of epic proportions. November’s gonna be a helluva month.
And, if anyone is interested in taking part, Nicole Cook has written her own brilliant strategy on attempting NaNoWriMo. You can read her blog here. It’s well worth taking the time to check it out, and I shall be using her strategy myself!
Also, an honorary mention goes to my partner-in-crime, Marni Mann, who is going
The Delectable Marni
NaNoWriMo along with me, and with both our aims of 50k for our books, Marni should have all but finished the sequel to her first novel – Memoirs Aren’t Fairytales – which is due for release in December. And you will buy it. Please. She’s been a massive influence on my own writing and you really need to see what the mistress can do herself.
Ok, that’s all from me. I have to prepare for today. So far, I’ve shaved my face completely clean for the first time in almost/over 15 years, I started a Creative Writing course, and I also start an
Nicole Cook
Italian language course.
Oh, and some small thing called National Novel Writing Month.
. after a short while the boredom set in so we hatched a few new semi regular nights in a couple of clubs over in newport town… and kinda been doing that ever since 
if you’re interested you can have a listen to one of my sets i recorded from our gig last xmas –> ( 
