Yes it’s today!
Here we are its so beautiful.
Where you been? Here I am just sat here waiting for you to show. I missed you, did you miss me? Nah! That’s how it goes. It’s a dog eat dog world and as my dear daddy used to say ‘Every dog has his day’. But I live on the streets. I wander down leafy avenues and concrete car parks, my turf is the asphalt jungle and the sweet smell of diesel. But this city is just so big and wild and crazy. But I know a lot of folk who can spit real good! They got real bad dental hygiene and believe in alien abduction and giant mind controlling lizards who run the city police department. I don’t mess with them guys. I just do my own thing. So tell me your problems and I’ll hear you out and nod my head as if I really care and you’ll feel a whole lot damn better. You can tell me about your darkest thoughts and your fears of growing old and lonely and living on skid row. Or perhaps you’re Just scared of losing your marbles and are frightened ‘bout feelin’ cold on a sunny day. So do the right thing just throw me a nice titbit. I got class and I like irony and stuff. Yeah! I think we’re going to be good friends. Real good chums.
So stay safe! Gotta go.
Your sincere friend,
Here we are its so beautiful.
Yesterday I called in at the Rubbish Tip Shop. This is a good place. Lots of very cool things that are unloved and need a new home. So I now have a faded red plastic rubber lobster in the front dash of my car. It cost me twenty cents. Somehow I find that symbolic of my life. I love lobster. They migrate across the Atlantic floor looking for love.. or something close to love. Maybe I can draw a lobster in my next publication.. you know the flashing neon lights outside some bistro. Big claws.. opening and closing. Maybe it’s a jazz club, the kind of place full of sad jazz buffs with their tragic vinyl collections and soggy beer stained carpets and the rudest bar staff who talk to you like you are just there to pay their wages, which is exactly what you are there for.
But there’s some seventeen uber kid on piano playing some atonal variations on a theme by some dead dude who used to do bad stuff and the drummer is playing some strange funky backbeat. It all makes perfect sense and its such a cliched shithole that you believe it’s the best jazz club in the neighbourhood.
‘Hey! I’m going to the club tonight’ mmm ‘Not the Lobster Club? .. ‘oh wow.. that’s such a cool place, you know who I saw there the other night? No .. tell me.. ‘I saw Miles.. Yup! How cool was that?. Ohmygod let’s go there now’
You get my sad drift?
It’s been a few weeks and so little has happened. But that’s ok. I’ve been sorting out my pencils and upgraded my computer … my Amiga 1200 now is in a box and there’s a something very fast and big and shiny on the table. This is the world I have just let pass me by. So I am embracing in a rather coy clumsy way the New Order, this super slick AI world full of mirrors and smoke and spin.
As always the world of my artist hero Goya seems to reflect our sad obsession with torturing and killing the young and innocent. This distresses me immensely. I must try and be brave and look for the good I find in my fellow human beings. That’s all I can say on that… for now.
I have my doubts that this will work out ok! I just have that sad sinking feeling of ‘Oh no!! I’ve been here before’. BUT.. he who hesitates is lost. So let’s give it a go. I tell myself it’s a work in progress, all under the wonderful roof of Temple Comix. An artistic refuge that pulls together a few loose threads and lets me explore a few new leafy avenues.
First up there’s my graphic novel featuring my canine friend Mobius. No super powers here just the ability to smell a hot dog in the gutter from the three hundred paces. He is doing it tough on the streets of some scummy trash town full of pimps and hookers and meth heads and other fine folk. It’s coming.. (cue drummer dressed as a gorilla hitting rock god drum kit ) lots of pictures.. a few words.. just need a little more time and love and its soon going to happen.
Then there’s my chill-out music stuff… Minerva Street. Loved by a few and still relevant in my life. Featuring a few sublime downtempo moments that could become the film score to your happy/tragic/magnificent life. Or to bits of your life like going to the gun shop, waking up in a stolen car in a strange neighbourhood two hundred miles from home and there’s a dead body on the back seat and the name of an old flame written in black biro on your left hand.
So I tell myself… just do it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Just do it. Others will beat you up for free, you know the type.. so cool and hip and full of puke. Bring Temple Comix alive. Have some fun before the fun police drag you away.