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.
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