The Next Big Thing

A welcome diversion to my routine yesterday and some logistics juggling abetted my much-attempted ambition to stay away from the computer. Sir Tom Phobic (nee Crossley) dropped by and it was a lot of fun to go over war stories , play music and just sort of get a grip on why all this stuff is important. The general wearing down process can seem all-enveloping sometimes but events like this create an often obscured perspective.

If you’re not familiar with The Phobics then you should be but more mature readers may recall Tom’s tenure with Bad Karma Beckons (not Beckhams, clothears). Anyway, this guy has a star-spangled punk rock pedigree and is one of life’s total gentleman. As ACC sez Been there, done that. He also proudly wears the t-shirt.

Something that came back to mind yesterday after talking to Tom was remembering how I used to go and take out loans to publish the magazine and all that guff. It seems unthinkable now and they’d probably chase me. However, yeah it was all funded in that way and even although it never “recouped”, the spiritual return on that investment of time and green has been amazing. That only really becomes clear when time can be spent with fellow “veterans” or the extended family across the planet. Never something that should be taken for granted.

This will swing into sharp focus again when the Stockholm trip goes down in a couple of weeks. That’s something that real life won’t be able to mark with the proverbial ice axe. Here’s to the next summit down in Tom’s “manor” in May. We’ll be the guys at the bar when The Stooges are on.

Of course there’s stuff I SHOULD do but I’m inclined to watch “The Brits” tonight. A wee bit of rhyming slang with regard with what is likely to be portrayed but I’m curious as to just how lamentable it’ll probably be. The hollow self congratulatory hype notwithstanding, I find the concept of how anybody could rate that caterwauling bisom Florence (and her apparatus) anything other than trés poor bordering on pitiful. Either that or the other way about, take your pick.

So here's a couple of things to keep you occupied...

The v. prolific JD King just keeps knocking out the great stuff and Chapters 12 and 13 of metaphors are available for your perusing pleasure.

Isn’t there a publisher out there that recognises that this ought to be an actual book? I realise that publishing is possibly even more shot than the music but really, their equivalent of A&R operatives are overlooking genuine gold here.

A cyber-chinwag with The Chairman (Marty Thau) by Dick Porter is over at Mudkiss.

The fog hasn’t lifted all day here and the sun is on its way down. I’m going to prepare a wee snack and buckle down to suffering for the closest thing to an art that I‘ve got. Hope me ‘eart is up to processing the anger palpitations.