Sometimes I think I might try and post stuff here more often and then more often than not something else comes up. The will to procrastinate is so strong that any sign of distraction is seen as an excuse. There’s some good stuff around that I should probably try and write about but aren’t you overloaded with information as it is. As guff as my angle might be though, it was never my intention to neglect the blog as much as I have been doing.
Just recently, Eddie Flowers asked me to contribute to the upcoming Vulcher print venture. I asked him if I should handwrite it and he said yes. Being that I hadn’t broken out the pens in a while, that was quite a culture shock. Not least because a semblance of an arthritic condition has crept over me so holding the writing utensil for any length of time was uncomfortable. I’d also forgotten all about the need to blot and not to smudge the ink. That made for some expletive filled outbursts along the way.
Forgetting is another thing I do a lot of. I’ve come to excel at that. Like a whole bank of memory tapes have been erased. Of course, all of this is down to aging. I’m under no illusion about that or the fact that it’s likely to get worse. At this point I’m well in advance of punk rock at 40 – this all of a sudden worthy commodity that some ne’er do wells can wring some cash out of cashing in on.
But what the hey, if someone is buying then they likely deserve to be taken. In the same way that anyone would even consider going to see Springsteen at Hampden fucking Park in Glasgow. Far be it from me to get in the way of what could only turn out to be the polar opposite of a real cool time. And I truly hope that Iggy will have made enough money to retire soon so that he can maybe hit the talk circuit and stop playing that post-Trainspotting gash.
Now that - I’d pay to see.