my friends at LONDON WORD FESTIVAL (where Camusflage Krokodial, that monologue i wrote last year, was first shown) have created a page dedicated to The Fib - which is a poem based on the Fibonacci sequence. CLICK HERE and go to the Fibber's Gallery at the bottom of the page. Then, when you are ready, you, the very merry public, are invited to submit your own. Go.
also
www.youtube.com/screamingbody14
video diaries and films
i will update the page as i sort thru my computer
there are many videos from pilion to laugharne to texas to
Wednesday 19 November 2008
Monday 17 November 2008
live at the paradiso
so we travel thru the night into the city of red lights..around 3am we stroll up to the top deck and look out at the channel as we skulk across it. the air is warm and fizzing so we open our mouths. we do that and take photos of eachother leaning over the edge. start talking with a guy called mustufa who says he is a moroccan travel agent..i spend a while thinking about what he really meant by that.
we drive thru belgian countryside which we all agree is really fucking dull and arrive in the city at around 8am. we have breakfast, do the tourist thing and then try and get into our rooms for a sleep. the thing is my room isnt ready so i have to sit there, while everyone else sleeps, being 'entertained' by this gaunt freakshow of a receptionist. he shows me his films which are, on a very basic level, just photos that he has lifted off google of animal cruelty. he calls them 'shock docs'. i cant help but laugh violently. i dont even realise im doing it until alice points out that im dribbling all over the mans keyboard.
after 20 minutes of sleep, not sleep really..more just having my eyes shut, we soundcheck and then stock up at the drink shop, which is in between the knocking shop and the coffee shop.
later on we play a show. its the first show with this new live line up and, as i leave the stage, i feel it has gone well and turn to the others and hug them and say " guys, i think that went well..so...you know..well done" they all feel the same and we laugh and shout for hours. i spend the rest of the evening outside by the canal speaking with people and spitting into the water. i dont even see any other music which i regret now as there was some interesting stuff. the only thing i do see is this very tall looking boy with about 10 jumpers on called fyars. he is good and we all nod in agreement as his set draws to a close. we head back to the canal and leave him to sweat it out.
after a few hours we head back to the hotel and catch the final hours of children in need which is pretty fucking out there. benji rolls thru the hotel doors at 5 ish after being removed from a restaurant by our tour manager for offering himself up to amsterdam in some kind of abstract sexual sacrifice.the next morning he puts it down to miscommunication.
anyway, we finally get home and eat pasta at the flat and continue celebrating nothing.
we drive thru belgian countryside which we all agree is really fucking dull and arrive in the city at around 8am. we have breakfast, do the tourist thing and then try and get into our rooms for a sleep. the thing is my room isnt ready so i have to sit there, while everyone else sleeps, being 'entertained' by this gaunt freakshow of a receptionist. he shows me his films which are, on a very basic level, just photos that he has lifted off google of animal cruelty. he calls them 'shock docs'. i cant help but laugh violently. i dont even realise im doing it until alice points out that im dribbling all over the mans keyboard.
after 20 minutes of sleep, not sleep really..more just having my eyes shut, we soundcheck and then stock up at the drink shop, which is in between the knocking shop and the coffee shop.
later on we play a show. its the first show with this new live line up and, as i leave the stage, i feel it has gone well and turn to the others and hug them and say " guys, i think that went well..so...you know..well done" they all feel the same and we laugh and shout for hours. i spend the rest of the evening outside by the canal speaking with people and spitting into the water. i dont even see any other music which i regret now as there was some interesting stuff. the only thing i do see is this very tall looking boy with about 10 jumpers on called fyars. he is good and we all nod in agreement as his set draws to a close. we head back to the canal and leave him to sweat it out.
after a few hours we head back to the hotel and catch the final hours of children in need which is pretty fucking out there. benji rolls thru the hotel doors at 5 ish after being removed from a restaurant by our tour manager for offering himself up to amsterdam in some kind of abstract sexual sacrifice.the next morning he puts it down to miscommunication.
anyway, we finally get home and eat pasta at the flat and continue celebrating nothing.
Monday 10 November 2008
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