It dawned on me at about 18:30 that I was very tired indeed. Outside the children on my estate played football in the sunshine. I was hunched over a computer and a keyboard, peering through dry eyeballs at twin monitors on which the technicolour visage of my Fruity Loops sequencer danced and shimmied. Beats and waveforms. Lego and fractals.

I had been making beats for three hours, and, despite a few near misses, had come up with nothing suitably genius. I closed the file I was working on, opened a fresh one, and drew a picture of a dog on the piano roll. I assigned a bass sound to it, slung up a kick and a snare, and pressed play. It was a one bar loop, and it was amazing. Two hours later I had written a chorus and 48 bars of “rap” – although I have to warn you that my recent works have departed from my traditional flow somewhat. I have a new one now. Its not about double time, or single time, or even wrapping words around beats. I have found one can spatter them like bullets, or drape them like towels. It is dope.

Haha, I am such an egist. The hook starts:

“Oh wow, they’re calling you out
Oh wow, they’re calling you out
Yeah it’s a seven fourty seven and they’re calling you out”

It does other stuff after that. Rah.

I love my job. I am good at it.

Anyway, I missed this. They’re making “beauty” products out of dead people and foetuses now. Go figure.

— Wednesday, April 5th, 2006

Rah! What a glorious thing. Etc. I have been up since real time, and it has been all good so far, thank you very much

I am well. South London is well. North East London is well. The bambis in my park are well. The goat in my park is overweight and has arhtritis. Which is sad. Poor goat!

The constant state of barmy flux that is my life took another twist yesterday, on a number of fronts. Today we twist further. Everything is moving always.

What was it they kept saying in Magnolia?

“We may be done with the past, but the past is not done with us.”

Serious.

Speaking of which, Alex Jones continues to attract nineoneone whistle blowists. The former head of the Star Wars missile defense program was on his show yesterday saying Dick Cheney did it. But what would he know? He worked for Ford and Carter. Ha!

Nine year old spawns of major label bosses are reading this funny white and red website, I have just been informed. Righteous. If I had a nine year old spawn and found him reading this, I’d give him a nice green Granny Smith. Rah! Do your homework! The world is yours!

— Wednesday, April 5th, 2006

“My life is amazing… and great. It’s all down to God…if you don’t believe in God fair enough and you think i’ve been brainwashed then also fair enough but it’s an amazing brainwash…. cos i’m feeling the happiest and most peaceful i have felt in over a year and it’s really quite amazing and i now longer need to feel guilty or blame myself for anything! I can’t stop smiling to myself! So big up the brain washing.”
Mary Turner, yesterday

“Witchcraft scum exploiting the dumb,
Turning children into punks and slaves
Whose heroes and healers are rich drug dealers
Who should be put in their graves.”
Bob Dylan

I was watching The Sopranos earlier. Tony said, “If the history of the earth was the Empire State Building, the existence of man would be a postage stamp. Doesn’t that make you feel fucking insignificant?”

“I don’t feel that way,” shrugged Chris.

This show is so amazing on so many levels.

Later on a man explained to Tony that the boxes he was watching on TV were actually illusions. “It’s just physics,” he said. “Particles bumping up against each other. It’s like two tornadoes.”

“Everything is everything,” nodded Tony’s friend. “I can dig that.”

I wondered if I got that, because I have been thinking of such things lately. I wondered if, had I seen it last tear, I wouldn’t have got it. I wondered if its the 100th Monkey thing. Maybe we’re all starting to get it.

Tony was visited in hospital by an evangelist, who told him that God made the earth 7000 years ago, and that science has an anti Christian Skygod agenda, and the man who told him about the particles was going to hell.

I remembered that time Mary said I was going to hell, but it was OK, because heaven’s perfect, so it won’t bother her in the slightest.

Charlotte was telling me how her friend puts pumpkin seeds in her porridge earlier. It dawned on me that I strip away the natural colour of my hair for effect. What is with us? People are fucking nuts! Rah! It is quite amazing, truly.

After being awed by an American television programme purportedly about gangsters, I recorded the song I wrote last night. Then I watched Magnolia, for the fourth time. I am 25 now. I saw so much in it I hadn’t before.

When the frogs fall, child genius Stanley Spector notes, smiling, “This happens. This is something that happens.”

Which is true. I have been making a concerted effort to learn for a three or four years now, but I only recently sussed I was unlearning as well. That when I was very small, I knew everything its going to take me a lifetime to realise now.

I have said this before, but really, I mean it with all my heart – if you have children, throw away your TV.

So, that poll I posted yesterday was fun. It seems half of you think there should be a forum on the site, and half of you think that a forum would ruin this site. Or perhaps not. I received the following email this evening:

“Dude you should keep the website, i know a hole rack of people that love your site, and i got them all to, and i am a big fan of yours and it lets us know of your progress and we all Think your kick ass man. You music is the greatest thing. Your cool and kick ass lol. Just keep on going man.”

Oh lord! I ain’t going no place! I asked if you wanted a forum! That’s all!

I wonder how many people who clicked “no” thought that. And vice versa.

Prolly an equal amount. But anyway. Gavin, who sent that, thank you, it is communication of this nature that, well, it isn’t why I do this. But it reminds one of why it is worth doing. A new mixtape will be yours by the end of next week. And soon, soon, oh, soon, you will be allowed to hear my first album.

I have nearly finished writing the second one, you know. I have thirty seven songs so far from which to choose. A need to write four songs of a very specific nature to complete what I see being the picture.

Stupid “machine”.

Oh. I was talking to my mother on the internet earlier. She said, “i hope you regularly check your testicles – you are at that age.”

I said, “What age?!”

She said, “The danger age for cancer.”

— Tuesday, April 4th, 2006

— Sunday, April 2nd, 2006

Rah, I totally flushed my telephone down the bog earlier. Serious. Shit so won’t work at all now. Tragic really. Like, I KNOW you wanna talk to my translucent ass. Too fuckin’ bad

Saying that, there’s five of you I can think of that have my landline. So y’all can ring me. I’m gonna go peep my deer tomorrow. Let’s hang. Rah!

— Saturday, April 1st, 2006