Coyness, is, indeed, nice.
But it WILL stop you.
I know this. Not that that helps. Sometimes a person can know the alphabet backwards yet still fail to recognise a “Z” when it is smacking them about the head.
Monkeys, iPods, ook.
I never whored myself, you know. I was gully and conceited.
So, I stayed up till just gone midnight doing a mix for The Selector, which was making me happy, as it was fun. Whacking Swiss and me over Pulp and shit. Jehst and Klash and Sov and Face and shit. GALANG. And, lo, so reach-ed I the finalle, when there was a mighty buzzing at my door. BRRRRING! BRRRRRRRRRRRING! And I ignored it at first, as usually the door is made noisy by pals slash drunks slash lady folk of Wade. But eventually I found it was in fact Jeres, who was drunk, and needing some vague refuge after a row with his better halves (girlfriend, bandmate).
So I never got the early night I was planning. Jeres got booze, and had a song in him he needed excorsising, and it was very beautiful. We shall finish it tommorrow – he just left – and I need to render this mix and send it to its new home. I shan’t bother going to bed a whee while yet, as Wade shall no doubt return from Rakehells’ with an army of drunk children and start making smoothies and bacon, and waking up to children and bacon after minutes of sleep gives me gip. Better that I am awake and slightly Steptoe, as opposed to full blown..
I am going to Prague tommorrow, aparently. Which seems odd.
So, one of my peoples emailed about my nice see through rock. He say it is “probably rock quartz or calcite [if it is see through, and it's calcite, it's a relatively rare form known as Iceland Spar - woop de hoop!!!!]… We shouldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility that you stumbled upon London’s only vent of kimberlite, a carbon-rich volcanic rock which coughs up diamonds more frequently than Pete Doherty coughs up excuses for no-shows wreathed in crack smoke.”
I like that. Eloquent my peoples. HAHAHA, I have a fuckin rock of CALCITE, bitch!
I thought for a whee while I was turning into a robot, made of metal and grease and calculations, you know. I didn’t ever remember dreams unless they were terrible nightmares.
Do you realise how relentless I have been for the last, um, long time since I stopped beign a foolish druggist?
Very relentless, Bub. Relentless turns into ludgubrious quicker than you can say Towers Of London are the greatest band in the world.
Balance, context, innit.
Speaking of which, dear old Larry Silverstein – the genius who once owned a couple of the World Trade buildings, but cleverly bought the lot, and took out a record insurance policy on them, months prior to the cinematic events of September 11th 2001 – has finally responded to the outrage he caused when he said on telly he’d given orders to “pull” (demolish) building 7, which WAS NOT HIT BY NUFFINK. His response? He didn’t mean demolish. Didn’t say what he did mean. I said it cos it’s true – dude’s a genius.